Search Results for: Spiral

If you were at my writing salon . . .

It was shortly after 7PM when the writers appeared. The living room was soon crowded with nine enthusiastic guests from Pinole, Walnut Creek, El Sobrante, Richmond and Point Richmond, CA. ( One more writer outside didn’t knock on my door alas, thinking he had the wrong time.)

We began with a animated discussion of what a salon is and what it means to read our work aloud (it means everything). I shared a story I read in the biography of Nobel Prize novelist, John Steinbeck. In his early years as a writer, Steinbeck had a habit of greeting his friends by reading his latest writing aloud to them. Courageous!

So you’re curious about attending a Writing Salon

At my writing salon, we began with a animated discussion of what a salon is and what it means to read our work aloud (it means everything). I shared a story I read in the biography of Nobel Prize novelist, John Steinbeck. In his early years as a writer, Steinbeck had a habit of greeting his friends by reading his latest writing aloud to them. Courageous!

Once upon a time, a thousand years ago

Once upon a time, a thousand years ago, a boy discovers a trap door into a tower on a high, ominous mountain. The boy, a character in my newest novel Spiral, goes by the name of Little Hawk. Though his mother has forbidden it, Little Hawk has been longing to get to the top of the tower ever since his mother, his dog and he arrived at this strange, new place. Sliding through the trap door, he finds a ladder in the middle of the circular room leading to a hole in the roof high above. He spies skeletons without heads arranged in a circle, their feet facing the center, as if it were a fire pit and they only wanted to warm themselves.

What mother does not fear for her child?

Willow was daydreaming, admiring her baby when the Elders came again, the staggering men stomping and dropping snow and ice on the floor. She jumped up but not soon enough, for Thin Nose had already grabbed the infant out of her arms.

The Spirit of a Novel

How to begin writing a novel? How to keep on writing? I begin a book starting with the earth and write from the ground up. My upcoming novel, Spiral, begins with young Willow looking out over dry Chaco Canyon, New Mexico, for her lover. The ancient Anasazi of the Four Corners area knew the connection between Earth, Sky, Spirit and Story too. They designed their Great Houses and created rock drawings to align with the equinoxes and solstices. The heavens still illuminate the spirit of what they left behind long ago.

From my backyard

Visiting Chaco Canyon, New Mexico for the first time, I “saw” the story when I stopped before a nondescript ruin of a small house with an ancient, sad face that called out to me, speaking of sweet dreams and great disappointment.

Road Trip to the War Gods

Even from so far away on the Colorado road, I feel repelled at my first sight of Chimney Rock National Monument. I shiver thinking how it matches the dark mood of Spiral, my novel-in-progress and a prequel to Sundagger.net. Why am I here? I had to see for myself this most ominous, isolated outlier of the Pre-Puebloan Chaco Culture where the climax of Spiral erupts. But just seeing the peaks . . .

Dear Diary #7—An Open Door

I can’t decide which route I should take—North or South. I’ve been frightened of and yet determined to take this trip since I first started writing Spiral, the prequel to Sundagger.net, and discovered so much fascinating research. I’d gone to Chaco Canyon, New Mexico twice but never to Chimney Rock, CO the furthest settlement of the Anasazi culture. Will I too see the bludgeoned skulls of the ancestors inside the ancient ruins?

Dear Diary #4—Remember the Fun?

Dear Diary, Get a grip. I’m tired of reading about my incessant self-absorption of long ago. Let’s go to the California State Fair. What’s so great is I get to be one of 40+ featured authors. And I enjoy the whole damn show. Remember how I loved going to Kennywood Amusement Park in Pittsburgh? (No, I don’t even mention Kennywood in you, dear diary. That’s because it’s too much fun!) Remember screaming with excitement and delight on the Racer with Dad while the roller coaster climbed higher and higher?