Ocean Inspiration

Every artist (writer, painter, musician, dancer, film maker, actor, every artist, doesn’t matter what the discipline) has places in their head that inspire them, scare them, get them thinking – iconic locations. They can be real or imaginary. They can be right around the corner or halfway across the galaxy. They can be a memory (the garden you haunted as a child) or a place right around the corner (the street you walk to work each morning).

For me, my inspiration is one very large place – the ocean. Mostly the Pacific Ocean, but that’s only because I live on the west coast. The Atlantic off the east coast of the Americas and the French and English coasts also resonate with me, as does the Mediterranean. Obviously, for me it’s not only about the water, it’s above the movement of the waves.

Why do I say obviously? Because I grew up in Vancouver right on the Pacific Ocean and when, for many years, I lived either in Kelowna on Lake Okanagan or in Toronto on Lake Ontario, I always felt – though I didn’t realize it until years later – that something was missing. I figured it out after four or five years in Toronto when I went to Miami. I sat on a dock watching the brown pelicans fly by and breathed a giant sigh of relief. Of course, I’d felt the same thing coming home to Vancouver, but I was coming home. I didn’t realize that the comfort I felt was anything other than that.

So I write about the ocean. Not always in an obvious way, but when I think about it, I see that it’s always there. I suspect it’s the reason I craft sentences the way I do, so that they move like one of the many rhythms of the ocean. I’m always conscious of the way sentences move – whether I’m writing or reading them – it’s probably the most important thing to me. I read them out loud and if they don’t work, I’ll fix them.

The nice thing about the ocean being the inspiration for both my stories and my sentences is that it provides me innumerable choices – the ocean can be anything. It can be any color, any mood, any emotion, any flavour. And, although I don’t consciously consider the ocean when writing a sentence, when I look back on them, I know what’s wrong – and invariably, it’s the rhythm.

I suspect musicians who grew up on the ocean have the same feeling when they’re writing – they’re listening to the notes, but they’re equally conscious of the rhythm.

After writing for almost twenty-five years, I’ve finally figured something out. It feels both good and a bit scary.

Kate

The Power of the Journey

Remember when you were four or five and the last thing you wanted to do was to leave the world that you knew, the world where you knew every single blade of grass, every crack in the sidewalk, every knock on the door, and it was all so simple? So clear? So safe?

And remember when it was no longer any of those things?

I think we all go through phases—phases when the best thing in the world is the safe, the secure, the place where we know every person and every inch in it and phases when we want more than anything to run away to some place we’ve never been, to talk to people we’ve never seen, to immerse ourselves in the unknown.

For me, I’m far more likely to be in the second phase than the first. I moved away from home when I was sixteen and between that time and the time I turned thirty-two, I’d moved over thirty times. My desire to run has slowed down as I get older, as I acquire more things, but it’s still there. When I’m tired, unhappy, bored, I want to run away from home. I want to live somewhere I’ve never been, I want to meet people I don’t know, I want to walk down streets I’ve never seen. I want the challenge of moving, of learning to live in a new place.

I’ve done that a lot.

But it’s much more difficult at this stage of my life to run away, so I do something I’ve done for years—I run away in my head. A character in one of my books goes all the way in her dreaming; she accumulates clothes and books and money and hides it under her floorboards.

I’ve never gone this far in my planning, even in my head, but many times over the years I’ve traveled to faraway places, walked away many times. And each time I’ve done it, I’ve learned something.

What I’ve mostly learned is that there’s power in a journey that isn’t taken, power in the planning of a life you’ll never live, power in choosing the unknown—even if you do it only in your head.

And I guess that’s why I became a writer, and how odd is it after all the years I’ve been a writer, that it’s only through writing this blog that I’ve finally figured out what drew me to writing.

It’s so I can walk away from the life I’m living and journey into the unknown.

Kate

P.S. This is a blog I've posted today on the group blog I share with a bunch of other writers - Black Ink, White Paper. If you're interested in checking out some of my other blogs over there, or blogs by the fascinating writers I blog with, go to www.blackinkwhitepaper.wordpress.com

Counting Blessings

I've been thinking this morning about blessings - and how to celebrate them.

I realized, thanks to a blog I read this morning, that I'm very good at counting the blessings in most of my life but not so good about counting the blessings in my writing life. When I talk about my writing to others, I tend to focus on the lack of time and organization in my writing life - on the fact that because my day-job schedule changes sometimes from day to day, I always feel as if I don't have a handle on a writing schedule, as if I'm being tossed from pillar to post (and what does that mean, anyway?). I have too many other things to do - blogging, promotional things, my commitment to my writing organization, reading work of friends (which I love and would never give up).

But in many ways I'm incredibly fortunate. How? I'm just now thinking about that:

• I have terrific and supportive writing friends, who listen to me when I whine about time and energy and motivation - and I promise you, I'm going to stop doing that. Because having you in my life is a huge blessing.
• I write fast and relatively easily once I get started - don't get jammed up too much - this is definitely a blessing.
• I DO have time to write. So what if it's scattered? I like to write in short blocks so this can be a blessing.
• I like writing short - novellas and short fiction - and those are making a comeback, especially on e-sites. That, too, is a blessing.
• I can write anywhere because I like to write - at least part of the time - by hand. When I'm stuck, when I'm not sure what comes next, I take out my pen (a blue Uniball Signo 207) and my yellow newsprint lined paper, and I write. I love the feel of the pen against the page and I can lose myself in it. That ability to write anywhere and losing myself in the writing are both blessings.
• Almost anything I do, anywhere I go, anyone I know or see, anything I read, is research. The blessing there is that I don't think of it as research, it's just life. And how wonderful is that?
• I have a lifetime of experiences, of people, of places, of things, of reading, to use as fodder for my work - I don't do it consciously, but when I think about it now, I know that's a big part of where my fiction comes from. So my long and healthy and exciting (both good and bad) life is a blessing.
• I get to write off the books I buy - and I'm an avid reader - and that's a blessing. They ARE research in one way or another, either about the skill of a writer or the ideas, or just simply the immersion in the art.
• I get to go to places - the art gallery, the aquarium, the beach, the park, the streets of the city, or the woods, or the mall - and all of those places give me ideas. I listen to people on the street or the bus or in the elevator, on my way to and from work, which is all part of the scattering of my time - and I often get the beginning of a new story. Definitely a blessing. I can't tell you how many of my stories have begun with an overheard phrase.
• I can sit on a bench or in a coffee shop and simply contemplate the world and it's about the writing. How many people are that blessed? 
• And most of all are the mornings like this - when I read something and it brings me to a realization about life, or love, or writing, and I can share it right away. Right here. It makes me articulate my thoughts, it makes me a better writer, it makes me happy. So this blog - and the others I contribute to - are blessings. So thanks to all of you for that.

There are likely many more blessings in my writing life - but that's enough for this morning. I'm going to work on my current manuscript for a short block of time and then I'm going to work. Oh, yeah, and there's a huge blessing - I have a great job, with great people, which pays me enough money to live on and leaves me enough time to write.

This morning I'm definitely counting blessings.

Kate