Your Brain on Mute

If I pulled my brain out of my head and rubbed it across a blank piece of paper what sort of messy thoughts would smear the surface? Would phrases like "gas tank," "the dishes," "finish term paper," and "dentist appointment at 4:00 or 4:30?" soak through the page like a glossy grease stain?

Life is messy. But my head feels messier. Am I to just sit down, whip out the laptop, and let my fingers dance when my head, in all its festering, garbled clutterness, is in much need of pesticide poisoning?

Anne Lamott's book, BIRD BY BIRD, gets right to the meat of how we can begin chewing into our imagination's material when our skull's about to explode from a brain clot.

She writes:

"You try to sit down at approximately the same time every day. This is how you train your unconscious to kick in for you creatively. So you sit down at, say, nine every morning, or ten every night. You turn on your computer and bring up the right file, and then you stare at it for an hour or so. You look at the ceiling, and over at the clock, yawn, and stare at the paper again.

Then, with your fingers poised on the keyboard, you squint at an image that is forming in your mind- a scene, a locale, a character, whatever- and you try to quiet your mind so you can hear what that landscape or character has to say above the other voices in your mind.

The other voices are banshees and drunken monkeys. They are the voices of anxiety, judgment, doom, and guilt. Also, severe hypochondria. There may be a Nurse Ratched-like listing of things that must be done right this moment: foods that must come out of the freezer, appointments that must be canceled or made, hairs that must be tweezed. But you hold an imaginary gun to your head and make yourself stay at the desk. There is a vague pain at the base of your neck. It crosses your mind that you have meningitis."


The solution?


"Some days it feels like you just have to keep getting out of your own way. It is a little like when you have something difficult to discuss with someone, and as you go to do it, you hope and pray that the right words will come if only you show up and make a stab at it.

But the bad news is that if you're at all like me, you'll probably never read over what you've written and spend the rest of the day obsessing, and praying that you do not die before you can completely rewrite or destroy what you have written, lest the eagerly waiting world learn how bad your first drafts are."

I suppose in the end we all have busy times. Groceries. Deadlines. Visiting relatives. Until those busy times move to chaotic. Broken car. Bronchitis. Visiting relatives. Before long life is spiraling out of your hands once again with your teeth being the only glue to hold it together. Crashed car. Kitchen fire. Knee surgery. Visiting relatives. Then you finally claw some sense of order into your shredded life to keep the tide from rising above your chin. Meteor strikes. Relatives' funeral.

Amidst this repetition between bad and worse, can we just sit down and spew all of our thoughts, and rants, and memories, and pretend castles on the Microsoft screen and pray something sticks?

Sure! Why not.

Reremix

While working my body extra hard today to digest the hoards of feasty fabulousness, my mind became drowsy and my thoughts heavy with the random wonders of writing and remixing (whilst watching football of course, and simultaneously wondering how I could use the word, 'whilst' in my next blog post.)

I used to detest remixes. Why? I believed remixes were corrupted/lesser versions of the original. This was back when I thought myself to be a truly deep-thinker and therefore, took all my thoughts very seriously. But wasn't a remix, thought I, something that cheaply tainted the purity of the artist's work? Remixes were certainly nothing more than glorified knock offs... gimmicks, contrived-sacrilegious-gambitious-audacities.

But then... how could I be an art purist if one of my all time favorite films is:



In fact, with most Shakespeare adaptations, the more creative the spin, the more fascinating the production. Is it really such a defilement then, to take a piece of art, be it music, paintings, or a piece of literature, and mix in your own style to create a different take?



I've recently heard criticism regarding the success of PRIDE AND PREJUDICE AND ZOMBIES, with the criticizer stating that the book was nothing more than a gimmick that cheaply imitated Jane Austen's masterpiece right down to the original plotline and word-for-word sentences. Now I agree that Jane Austen's works are classic masterpieces, but the original "pure" versions will always remain pure. They will remain untouchable.

But why not take content that is so timeless, addicting, and downright precious, and remix other styles, colors, and interpretations to it? The remixer may not exactly be breaking the same ground as the original, but their addition could provoke alternative perspectives, suggestions, and revelations. What does the contribution of zombies reveal within the PRIDE AND PREJUDICE realm? If one thinks about it, the character of Mrs. Bennett most likely WOULD risk Jane's dismemberment of limbs via zombie attack in order to get to Mr. Bingley's house to flaunt, flirt, and score some matrimony.

It could be exciting for this remixing of classics and perhaps even contemporaries to continue.



How rich could a piece of text, music, or visual art become with the remixing of various flavors, the layering of fresh paint strokes and frosted toppings? What could remixing reveal about the work's audience, the pop culture surrounding the work, or even the work itself? Is it possible that recreating, reinterpreting, and any other re-ing actually contributes to the inspiration the original artist initially started?

Happy Halloween!

Yay, for the day of goblins, graves, ghosts, gremlins, and gothicism! I'm sure there's more "g" words to describe Halloween but alliteration can get old after about five words...

Time for the best of horror stories.










However, some of the best scary stories are the shortest.

The Query: How to Prove your Book is Made of Awesome

Ah yes, the infamous Query Letter. So infamous that I went so far as to inadvertently capitalize a common noun in a sudden rush of reckless abandon.

But really, the query letter is a strange and horrifying thing. It's a three paragraph sales pitch that will make or break the future of your book. Granted, there are many hurtles that strut between you and a publishing contract, but for some reason, the query letter carries the most weight. It's a pretentious little microsoft document, one that continuously smirks up at you as if to say, "that's right, the fate of your soul lies entirely in my nonexistent hands."

Yes, authors are always saying their characters speak to them. Well my query letters mock and verbally abuse me.

Of course, when writing your query, your primary goal is to sell yourself. But you could also (sadistically) view it as a chance to manipulate others. Basically, you're Ursula, bouncing and singing and shimmying your voluptuous "body language" to convince Ariel (the agent) to sign a shiny gold, levitating contract (your book.) The whole sucking of the voice out of the mouth and into the shell necklance doesn't really apply to my metaphor so we'll just move on.

I realize we're now being portrayed as the evil agent in this situation, but villains have more fun anyway, especially the ones with well-endowed, purple cleavage.

The format of the query letter requires your contact information at above the greeting. Following the greeting, you will typically have three paragraphs which follow:

Phone Number
Home Address
Email Address

Dear Drusilla Von Horlacher,

Paragraph 1: You want to begin with a hook that will seduce your agent right off the bat. I've read from several agents that a major turn on is learning as much about the main character as possible within the first few sentences. Reveal the strengths of your book that prove its originality and appeal.

Paragraph 2: This paragraph includes the summary of your book. Try to do this in as few sentences as possible. Also be sure to include your book's genre and word length. In this paragraph you could also include that your book is perfect for this agent to represent because it's similar to books X, Y, and Z. This information is crucial in your query, so make sure you include it at some point.

Paragraph 3: This paragraph includes a mini-resume of other works you have published. Even if you are a first-time author, you must still include some writing credentials about yourself. These can include awards you have won, clubs you are a part of, conferences you have attended, or school experience relevant to your literary work.

Then finish your letter with a painfully polite remark. Something along the lines of "I look forward to hearing from you/ working with your agency/ being graced with your artistic genius."

Sincerely,
Your Name (make sure your entire letter is single-spaced, including "yours truly.")

There are many options that can help guide you along the way to creating the perfect query letter. I'll be posting said options soon. But for now, begin constructing the basics, piecing together attention-grabbing sentences with personality, charisma, and flow. Best to just begin. I found the first sentence to be the most garment-renting. When overly-stressed, just think of Ursula. Actually, during all the times of the day, both good and ill, think of Ursula.

The things you can do with a pen and a book of blank paper

Noteboek from Evelien Lohbeck on Vimeo.