November 2006 Archives

   I haven't posted what I'm reading in a while. I just finished this book, a first novel, by Darnell Arnoult (female). Marvelous! I'm not sure it would appeal to all my readers as it's . . . well, more literary than commercial. Big on beautiful writing, small on action. Big on Message, too. In lesser hands than Arnoult's, it might have been preachy, but because the wisest character is an elderly African American woman, the message is delivered in credible pieces by someone who has Been There and Done That. Despite the literary label, the book is engaging and accessible. The story is about a woman who develops schizoprenia in middle age and leaves home, finding her way to the farm of the black woman she knew as a child. The two families, black and white, come together as they struggle to make sense of Gracie's illness. Yet it's not a story about race--I loved that the racial differences were presented merely a matter of fact. It's more a story about love, tolerance and understanding. What makes it my favorite sort of story is that it's about good people trying to do right. Point of view jumps all over the place and that bothered me a bit at first, but it's so skillfully done that I quickly forgot about the fact that I was in one person's head one sentence and in someone else's the next. It's a "southern book" with all the atmosphere (and allusions to great food!) that give a book that distinction. I hope Darnell has many more books in her. Four and a half lighthouses.

This picture of Keeper and Jet pretty much describes how we spent Thanksgiving. Hope yours was equally restful!  

Remember way back in October when I was interviewed for an NPR program about being agoraphobic as a child and adolescent? Well, it never aired because of NPR's fundraising week, but it IS in their archives in a truncated version. If you want to hear it, go to and fast forward to minute 44.00 and there I'll be. The long main interview leading up to it is about an immigrant family and worth listening to.

  Well, we have the red sofa, but now we need to work on lighting and picking out the wall color. Can you tell we're struggling with that decision? LOL. One of our friends says it looks like we have a camouflage pattern going on. We need the right color to go with John's art, the wood mantle, the trim color and of course, the sofa. Maybe we'll have it all figured out by this time next year!                    

First, I must address the fact that you could ask a dozen writers what the difference is between literary and commercial fiction and get a dozen different answers. For the sake of simplicity, I'll say that literary fiction is more about the writing than the story, while commercial fiction is the opposite. Literary novels are those books we feel we "should" read and enjoy  (remember Tess Gerritsen's terrific blog on Legume Literature?); commercial books are those we can't put down. GILEAD, BELOVED, BEL CANTO, all books I thoroughly enjoyed, are examples of literary fiction, full of breathtaking writing (and symbolism) to which the story takes a backseat. THE DA VINCI CODE, which I also loved, is commercial all the way. Then there are those amazing writers who manage to write literary books with commercial appeal: I would put Pat Conroy, Sue Monk Kidd and Anne Tyler in this category, though some would disagree with me. Anyhow, the conference I attended last week really got me thinking about this debate, which is ongoing in the writing world (and in bookgroups all over the map). I usually attend conferences with published writers of commercial fiction where we talk about the biz of writing. The North Carolina Writers' Network conference was different in that it was more about craft and VERY literary in its leaning. Lots of poets, MFAs, and simply fabulous writers. (When I did my reading from THE BAY AT MIDNIGHT, I admit to feeling slightly intimidated at following four astounding poets). Here's the rub: literary writers tend to look down their noses at commercial writers (although I hasten to add, I was treated with complete respect for my work at the conference!), and commercial writers tend to belittle the importance of beautiful writing. Here's the lesson I took from the conference: By breaking into two camps, we're only hurting ourselves. I adored the exposure to a different sort of writing that I experienced at the conference, and I have no doubt that the so-called literary writers could benefit from learning some of the skills of story-telling commercial writers have perfected. We cut ourselves off from one another because of our ego, fear and protecting our turf. I'd like to see more of a mix. We can learn from each other. I've been cleaning out my files and stumbled over my early rejection letters that I keep to remind me of leaner times. Here is my favorite rejection (of my fourth novel and the favorite of many of my fans, KEEPER OF THE LIGHT): . . . "the author seems preoccupied with the psychology of the relationships she creates . . . While this approach may work in more literary novels, it won't in more commercial arenas. In my opinion, Chamberlain is straddling the two." I hope I can continue straddling. That's right where I want to be!

At the conference this weekend, I donated a "character name" as a prize in a raffle. In other words, I will use the name of the winner as a character in my work-in-progress. Well, guess the name of the person who won? Jabeen Akthar! LOL. She called me yesterday and sounds like a delightful woman who's hard at work on her own novel. But with several hundred people at the conference, how did I end up with a name like that?? The first time I auctioned off a character name was while writing KISS RIVER. The winner that time? Moto Sato. I had to figure out how to add a Japanese man to a book set in the Outer Banks of NC during WWII. It was a challenge, but those of you who've read the book may remember that his character actually added to the story. It forced me to do some out of the box thinking. So I'm expecting Jabeen's name to do the same for my WIP. Wish me luck!

Well, I came home from the North Carolina Writers' Network conference to a crashed computer. Sigh. Typing on my laptop right now and it's not nearly as easy to use online as my desktop. I'll find a geek-on-call, or whatever the North Carolina equivalent is, tomorrow. On a happier note, the conference was fabulous! The workshop I did was filled with enthusiastic students and we had a good time. I attended workshops on writing memoirs and writing humor (if you're one of my readers, you know humor is not my strong suit!). I joined other faculty in reading from our work. Most of the other writers were poets. The poetry was incredible. I also attended a ceremony inducting three writers into the NC Literary Hall of Fame. Two of the three are poets. I haven't heard so much poetry since high school. Is the celebration of poetry a southern thing? I was in awe at the way the poets cut right to the heart of their subject with carefully, beautifully, perfectly chosen words.   How have I missed poetry all these years? DIS-missed poetry, really. It was so painful to get through in high school. I feel as though a new world's opened up to me. Does that mean I'll try to write poetry? Ah, I don't think so. First, I don't think that's where my talent lies. Second, and here's the reality check, writing is my job. It's the best job in the universe as far as I'm concerned, but it also pays for my mortgage and my health insurance and my groceries. I need to write my novels. I don't have the time to acquire the skill it would take to write beautiful poetry. But I'll be reading it. Savoring it. And remembering this weekend surrounded by people who share my passion for putting words on paper.

This weekend will be the North Carolina Writers' Network Annual Fall Conference. I'm looking forward to meeting other writers and teaching a class on Saturday. I spent some time today thinking about what material to present. My goal is always to give my students "nuts and bolts"--techniques they can use right away to make their fiction better. I only have an hour and a half, so my focus will be on character and I have to think about which exercises will make the most of their time with me. I LOVE teaching, though I could never do it full time. Teachers have my enormous admiration. On the WIP front, I'm continuing to work on the backstory. I realize I have one (that I know of) problem with my storyline, so I'm also giving that my energy, searching for a solution. It's also weird for me to write about alcoholics. I've had plenty of experience dealing with adolescents and alcohol usage from my old private practice days, but I'm a teetotaler, so trying to get myself inside my alcoholic character's mind is an interesting challenge. Plus, I need to keep her sympathetic. I don't know why I've never been a drinker. I have NEVER had a drink, although I've had a sip (literally) of wine now and then just to taste it. Drinking was not a taboo in my family growing up, but no one drank much at all. Yet we had a "rec room" with a HUGE well-stocked bar for when my parents entertained. A couple of years ago, I mentioned to one of my old high school friends: "Isn't it strange that none of us (in our group of friends) got into alcohol?" She laughed and said that they were ALL "into alcohol." They just didn't invite me when they knew they'd be drinking. Now I know why I was home alone all those Saturday nights. LOL. Think I'll go have a cup of tea.    

Well, let's see. I got home yesterday (Saturday) afternoon, and wow, was I ready! I had a fantastic and productive week. The Weymouth experience was incredible--it's amazing how much I can get done when I have no TV, boyfriend, radio, newspaper, dogs or Internet nearby. The two other writers--former strangers to me--and I kept mostly to ourselves, focused on our writing. Friday evening, though, I went out with one of them for dinner. It was one of those connections I believe only women truly get to experience. By the time dinner is over, you each know 95% of the other's personal history and have shared sympathy and advice. But those two hours of extroversion completely destroyed my ability to get back to work. I spent the rest of the evening packing and took off for home the next morning. So, I've learned my limit of productive time in isolation is four and a half days. I would not do well in prison. I did 45 rough pages and am very pleased with the whole experience. Now it's back to reality. I'll be at the Opium Den in the morning. . .

As promised, here are some pictures of the Weymouth House, the mansion where I'm staying. It's in Southern Pines, which is another adorable little town less than two hours from where I live.                 Here's the house itself, taken from some of the gardens. The writer residency program was started decades ago by North Carolina's late poet laureate, Sam Ragan, and the Friends of Weymouth have done their level best to stay true to his vision of a place where writers can come--gratis--to focus on their craft. What a gift! I'm still pinching myself that I have this opportunity. Here's my room. You can see I'm suffering for my art! Yesterday morning, I woke up to voices outside my window and looked outside to see the volunteer gardeners hard at work. The roses--and many other flowers, are still in bloom and the scent outdoors is intoxicating. Below that picture is the view from another window. Today I took a walk through the acres and acres of pines and ponds and gardens. Below is my favorite of the garden sculptures I found in one of the fountains.   The final picture is for you, Margo! The little house on the property that's been turned into an artists' studio. Can you imagine painting in that setting? Today I worked on a chapter of backstory. I love backstory--sometimes I have to be careful it doesn't overshadow the current story. Our backstories make us who we are, and it's no different for our characters. To my surprise, I find myself really adoring a character who is dead in the current story. I seem to do that a lot: Annie in KEEPER OF THE LIGHT, Kate in SECRET LIVES. This time it's a man who's capturing my heart. I look forward to getting to know him better tomorrow. I'm typing this at Panera, where I can get good Internet access, and they're about to close, so I'd better skedaddle. Adding one more picture: artist Amy Smith and Flynn, two women I met at Flynn's coffee shop (of the same name), where they were hanging Amy's wonderful artwork. Love it!