Category Archives: Nandy Ekle

The Gift Of An Author

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POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE

 

The Gift Of An Author

By Nandy Ekle

 

Imagine walking down a hallway of closed doors. Each door has a plaque above it with the title of a story, and a few doors have plaques with no words on them as if waiting for a name. You hear voices behind every one and knocking comes from the other side of two or three at the same time. You’re standing in front of a door listening to loud, insistent pounding and a voice calling your name over and over. You reach out to turn the knob and realize it’s locked and you don’t have a key.

Where is the key? That door was just opened a few days ago and you visited with the voices behind it like gossiping neighbors. Why is it locked so tightly now?

This is how I imagine writer’s block. It’s frustrating and scary and can even be debilitating. It’s like losing eyesight or a hand. And I’ve been there lately.

These are the times I turn to my good friends Stephen King, J.K. Rowling and a myriad of other flourishing writers. I open a successful book written by one of these masters and beg them to instruct me once again about writing again. I get lost in their stories and feel them tug at the door with me.

Then the miracle happens. As I turn the page, enrapt in the worlds they created, I find the key to the door. I slip it into the keyhole and feel the lock turn, allowing the door to open. My characters run out and embrace me as my hands fly across the keyboard of my computer once more.

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.

Obsession

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Obsession

By Nandy Ekle

 

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I have been accused of having a touch of OCD. And maybe I do. Maybe do listen to the same song over and over, watch the same movie over and over, do the same activity over and over. Maybe I do have a specific way of doing every task, from the order of laundry loads to which ice cube comes out of the tray first.

I think, as a writer, the ability to obsess is important. Even if you have a short attention span, use the writing mood as intensely as possible. When you wake up in the morning, think about what perils your character will find during the day. As you shower, decide how your character will deal with these new obstacles. While you’re performing your day job, let your characters whisper to the right side of your brain while the left side performs the work. During your meals, allow the activity of your story to build. And when you lay down in your bed at night, your characters will put you to sleep so that you can start over the next day.

I really don’t know any other way to get the story out. When the mood is gone, it takes the words with it and you’ll be wandering around with characters frozen in mid sentence waiting for you to return. And one thing I’ve learned is the more I obsess about something, the deeper the obsession becomes.

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.

Heart

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Heart

By Nandy Ekle

The heart, the center, the core, the theme, the main idea. This is a very important part of your story. The heart is what the story is about.

Look at anatomy. On the outside we see skin, hair, fingernails. But we don’t see what’s under the skin. We don’t see the bones, the muscles, or the blood in its vessels. But we can look at the skin and see the evidence of those deeper body parts. Our skin has a firm shape because of the bones under it and it’s warm and has a rosy color because of the blood being pumped by the heart through the blood vessels.

Our stories are the same. We talk about story layers all the time, and that’s another good analogy—the onion theory. On the topmost layer of the story you have what’s happening at the moment. The next layer might be what’s going on inside the characters’ heads, and there might be a layer of tension between the characters because of the relationship between them. You could even have a layer of discovery and healing when the relationships change. But the very center of the story, the heart, is what the whole thing is really all about.

The other definition of “heart” I want to talk about sort of fits parallel with this one. Heart equals feelings. One of the best ways to connect with your reader is with emotions. You have a main character that wants something so much they are willing to risk everything to get it. You want your reader to feel this yearning and hunger as much as the character. You want your reader to feel every struggle, every disappointment, every victory with your character. When that happens, the center layer of your story goes right into the reader’s heart and they learn the same lesson the character learns.

In my blog next week, we will look at ways to burrow down into a reader’s heart and make your story become their story.

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.

Taking Control

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Taking Control

By Nandy Ekle

 

I have the best day job in the world. I work for a major finance corporation in the correspondence department. So I read letters, analyze the letter, research the contract and write a letter in response. So I spend all day long in the bottomless pit of words. And when we’re behind, as we have been quite a bit for the last year or so, we work overtime, still swimming in that ocean.

I love this job because it utilized every part of me I always enjoyed using—analyzing, investigating, reading, and writing. However, one of the drawbacks is by the time I get home from work, the words have just given up. As a result, I have not written much during the past year. I had forgotten how good it felt to write.

This week I made myself a promise. Beginning this week, I will take my entire lunch hour for myself. I decided to spend my lunch HOUR writing.

I also bought some new music on my player. Now, by the time lunch comes around, I’m very excited to get the writing time.

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.

In the Cavern

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In the Cavern

By Nandy Ekle

 

My youngest son was about three or four years old when we went on a vacation. We decided we would go through a cave in another state.

The tour through this cave was a fairly new tour, and there were places where the walkway was not very well developed. My daughter and son were old enough to be thrilled with the challenge and adventure of the whole thing, but my younger son was a little timid by more scary spots. He clung to my leg like he was attached to me.

We saw beautiful stalactites and stalagmites, which the tour guide explained were formed by water dripping constantly, drip, drip, dripping, one drop at a time. And each time a drop of water travels the length of the protuberance, it leaves a deposit of mineral. After a length of time, the minerals clot up and a finger-like projection is born. If you’ve ever seen a cavern with the different stalactite and stalagmite formations, you know about their breath-taking beauty.

I’ve read a few books, that reminded me of this past adventure, and I think those are the books I love the most. I approach an opening in someone else’s imagination. The author, who is the tour guide, has set up a pathway through his world to make the trip safe enough so no harm comes to you, but there are still emotional dangers. Yet the idea of learning something is worth more than the danger could ever be.

The guide takes you deep into the cavern, just using a flashlight to start with. But you get to the point where he turns on a stronger light and you gasp with the beauty you are seeing. The words have continued to drip steadily until you have the most beautiful formations you have ever seen. And they are made of more layers than you could ever imagine. In fact, the deeper you look, the more layers you find.

This type of story is a masterpiece and your readers will read it over and over.

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.

Coffee Break

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Coffee Break

By Nandy Ekle

 

I’m a coffee drinker. I used to be avid about it, drinking coffee all day long. But a few years ago I cut back considerably. Now I have one medium sized cup in the morning and that’s all. Still, that one cup is very important.

We don’t use the new-fangled single cup coffee makers because my husband has never cut back on his coffee consumption and the little singles are just not practical in our house. So when we make coffee, we make it by the 12-cup pot full. This means putting a filter in the basket, measuring out the grounds, pouring water in the tank, pushing the button, and watching the brown goodness drip, a couple drops at a time, sometimes a small brown stream down into the carafe until it’s full and ready to be poured out.

So, what does making a pot of coffee have to do with writing? Well, I’m a writer. Sometimes I’m a more avid writer than others, cranking out stories all day long. But sometimes just one story a day is enough. Still that one story is very important.

I have to assemble my ingredients: the computer on my lap (make sure the mouse is on), scratch paper and pen next to me (because I always have scratch paper and pen next to me), the internet pulled up and handy (research and polling friends), and my cup of coffee. Then I push the buttons and let the page fill up. Sometimes it only drips one word at a time. But then, sometimes it flows as a stream onto the page in front of me. And when it’s done, I feel the same sense of satisfaction I get from drinking my hot coffee first thing in the morning.

And now, I believe I will have a cup.

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.

 

 

 

An Empty Hole

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An Empty Hole

By Nandy Ekle

 

There’s a hole in my life. It’s bigger and emptier than the Grand Canyon ad it’s frozen all the way to my soul.

A very important presence left, and not only is my soul in havoc, but it also left everything around me in shambles. I look around the room and wonder what happened between us.

There’s a hole in the roof of this room and the rain continues to fall. The blowing wind keeps my world stirred up with just enough wreckage to keep things from settling back in order. And the wind is icy cold. I reach for a piece of paper as it passes me and my hand burns in this arctic cyclone

My soul and this dark empty room are not the only things feeling the cold rain. A parade of people are paralyzed in mid action. In one corner I see two young girls, the best of friends, on their way to the mountains for a weekend of adventure and healing. I see a lonely young woman whose entire life exists on the computer. I see an insecure girl waiting for her lover to come to her as he does every Friday—an artist trying to work through a broken heart and looking for just one friend—a confused woman waking up in an unknown place with no memory of how she got there—a frustrated and bored mother looking for adventure in the monotony of her life—the conflicted bridesmaid who’s lover is the groom—and probably the saddest face I see is the teenage girl who desperately wants independence from her twisted family.

But they are all as frozen as the air around me.

The source of all this icy chaos is my missing muse. She comes now and then, dropping a small seed in my head without providing the water or sunlight needed to make it germinate and grow. Sometimes the seeds pop up and then die, sometimes they never even take a breath.

I picture these characters she had me create, how they are stuck in turmoil and pain, and I want to help them. I want to fulfill their dreams and give them everything they want. But my hands are as worthless as the rain that continues to fall.

Oh, I’ve tried everything to get her back. I’ve begged and pleaded, cried and coaxed. I’ve spent money for lectures, books, pictures, and music hoping she hides there. I’ve re-read the words leading up to her departure thinking she may be in a corner just waiting for me to find her and pick the stories back up. I’ve talked with others whose muses are steady and helpful. I’ve even pretended she was still whispering to me, but the words are as empty as my heart feels.

So, what to do. The masters say to keep putting the words on the paper and she will eventually come back. They say exercise keeps the muscles strong. And they say to take matters into my own hand and give up the muse.

All I know for sure is the hole in this roof needs to be patched and the furnace needs to be turned on.

Desperately waiting for a post card from my muse.

 

 

 

 

They Will Smell Your Fear

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They Will Smell Your Fear

By Nandy Ekle

 

One of my friends was taking a poll. She asked everyone which they preferred, a story written in first person or a story written in third person. Of course, the numbers were pretty even on both sides of the question because this is a personal preference.

But I started thinking. There are definite advantages and disadvantages to those Points of View (POVs). I can enjoy a good story no matter what the POV is, if it’s done right. With first person, the goal is to be more connected to the main character, and therefore the reader will be more connected. The disadvantage is you can only have the one view point. If you are the main character, you are restricted to your own head. And these two rules are the opposite for third person: you can see through lots of eyes, but because of that, you don’t have time to connect as deeply with the main character.

So what was my answer to my friend’s survey? I told her to write in the POV she was most comfortable with. If you’re connected with your characters and you’re comfortable with them, it will show up in the way you tell the story. This will make your readers connected and comfortable with them. If you’re not comfortable, that will also show up in your writing. The readers will definitely know that too.

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.

 

My Dear Mr. Murphy

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My Dear Mr. Murphy

By Nandy Ekle

 

First of all, I want you to peek in the window of this house. The owner is in his bed sleeping. He’s still and quiet, not even snoring. We’ll stand here for, oh, about a hundred pages and watch. Everything stays peaceful. His robe is hanging on the hook and the only thing on the floor is the dog, which also does not move a muscle. No sounds, no action, no chaos.

Now let’s go to the house next door. Look in that window and what do you see? Well the owner seems to be getting into bed. The bed is all ruffled, which means he’s been in bed and gotten up. His robe is in a heap on the floor at the foot as if he tried to toss it on the chair and missed. The dog is standing on four feet turning circles like, maybe, he’s been outside and come back in. We hear kids crying upstairs and the lady of the house stomps into the room with a scowl on her face and a wooden spoon in her hand. Her robe falls off her shoulders in a pile and she stomps past it. They both pull the covers up to their chins and he turns out the light.

We’ll stand here a few pages more and listen to them snore. Then we hear a phone ring, the dog barks, and childish laughter peals from the upper floor. Mr. and Mrs. both turn on their lights and roll out of bed. They reach for their robes and don’t find them. The dog jumps around wagging his tail as the two adults stumble to the foot of the bed and bump into each other while searching. He goes for the phone, which has rung two more times and she gets the wooden spoon and heads out the door; the dog jumps in the bed and immediately lays down and goes to sleep.

Which one of these homeowners is the most peaceful? Which one the most interesting? While peace, order and serenity may be wonderful in real life, your story needs conflict to be interesting.

Mr. Murphy has the perfect formula for story writing: Anything that can go wrong, will.”

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.

A New Perspective

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A New Perspective

By Nandy Ekle

 

I have worn eye glasses my whole life. I’ve always been near sighted and in the past ten years or so I’m also had a touch of far sightedness. I’ve been wearing glasses with a far away and a close up. And if objects are too close, I take my glasses off and squint.

Since leaving my teen years I have not had to change glasses every year, but I can certainly tell when it is time for a new pair. And this week I got some new specs. It’s been a few years, but it seems the sight in one of my eyes has changed dramatically. Dark had become darker and the lights in the dark had become brighter and fuzzier. So my new “eyes” have corrected those things.

As I put them on, I noticed things I had not seen in a while (and hadn’t realized I hadn’t seen). I noticed the vibrant colors in some of the pictures around my house and my office. This was amazing because a few of these pictures were fairly new. I had seen them and liked them, but now I can really SEE them. I’ve also noticed that the world is no longer flat. Things actually have dimension.

Sometimes that’s what we need to do in our writing. We get wrapped up in our characters and the story they act out for us. We spend entire chunks of our lives looking at these words and this same old whiny girl in the same old scene. We devote so much to this world we’ve created that we forget what it really looks like. We need to put on a new pair of glasses, step back, and admire what it looks like when you can see the whole thing.

Congratulations. You have just received a post card from the muse.