Blog Tour Award - The questions we ask ourselves

Welcome!

This blog post is a bit different from my usual and a bonus for the month of June. Thank you to Rosanne Hawke for inviting me to participate in the Blog Tour Award.

Firstly, these are the rules:

1. Pass the tour on to up to four other bloggers.

2. Give them the rules and a specific Monday to post.

3. Answer four questions about your creative process that lets other bloggers and visitors know what inspires you to do what you do.

The questions are:

1. What am I working on at the moment?

2. How does my work differ from others in my genre?

3. Why do I write or create what I do?

4. How does my writing/creative process work?

I really appreciate the talents of some other up-and-coming authors: Wendy Noble (writer, reviewer, editor, speaker and very diligent blogger) and James Cooper (all-round writer, writing teacher, and chief editor of the group blog author.docx). Wendy will post her Blog Tour Award on Monday 29 June and James on Monday 6 July.

Although this blog is mostly built around my short stories and poems, I’m going to tell you today about my major novel project.

 1.   What am I working on now?

The short answer is – the same novel I have been working on for six years! But the more informative answer is that I’m actually now writing it as four novels in a series.

I’m thinking of calling the series 'Find Freedom' and this first novel by the same title. In it we follow Meg, a forty-two year old journalist in the City-State of Encaedion in the year 2230. She has been the ‘voice of the voiceless’ throughout her career and has a large following, but she’s starting to ask the hard question: what difference is this actually making? Already discontented with her work and her marriage, life takes a serious turn for the worse when her teenage son is convicted of subversion. Where can you go when your life is falling apart?

my writing space

2.   How does my work differ from others in my genre?

I don’t write to genre – true confession: I don’t really understand how genre works – which leaves it in the miscellaneous category called ‘literary’. But I’m not clever enough to be what the reading public thinks of as literary…my focus is to write using English well and to tell stories that make readers feel like they know these characters as neighbours. I write about transitions, so the ages of my protagonists (and therefore my target audiences) vary according to the nature of the transition.

3.   Why do I write or create what I do?

I ask myself this question quite often. In the end, I think that it has the same answer as a lot of other things in my life – that I have the opportunity, the desire and a sense that it’s something I was made to do.

A related question: what can I offer uniquely to the myriad of books currently being published? My answer is that there is room enough in the world for every human being to be creative, each uniquely because we are actually unique. There isn’t a quota, or a standard to meet apart from using what we have to the best of our ability and opportunity. It’s not actually a competition (unless you’re after fame and fortune).

4.  How does my writing/creative process work?

This is harder for me to answer because it’s still developing.

I put aside a day a week to write. I learned the hard way that it doesn’t work to do it in the lounge room when your family is around. I key my stories directly to the computer, but I handwrite poetry – for the practical reason that experimenting with formatting is easier with pen and paper. (I used to say I couldn’t think without a pen in hand, but it turns out I can think just as well with a keyboard.)

A map of Encaedion City

I also use an art journal for a haphazard collection of items: newspaper/magazine clippings, hand-drawn maps, arguments with myself about why I need to approach an aspect of the story differently, and for times when I haven’t access to my computer. I am not a visual artist by any means, so mud-maps are about as exciting as it gets in the non-verbal department.

A process flowchart:

 ·      an idea about theme, setting, and the key character

 ·      a rough structure mapped out (plotting is not my forte)

 ·      lots of character notes, scenes written to make the characters act, interviews with them, etc – I had 65,000 words of notes before I began actually writing the story

 ·     a first draft (meaning that some chapters were written five times and others only once)

 ·     feedback on the first quarter from my writing group

 ·     most of a second draft

 ·     decided to convert it into four novels, and proceeded to rewrite the first quarter AGAIN, this time four times longer

My next post will be in mid-July – I hope you’ll pop back for another short story, poem or excerpt from my novel writing. And feel free to drop me a line by comment or email.

See you next time!

Claire Belberg

The dormant blog - The Earth Cries Out

Daisy regrowth after a long time of nothing

Welcome!

When I set up this blog in 2012 I had no idea how demanding I made it on myself! I quickly used all my short stories and poems, and realised that I cannot write enough new material, even monthly, of the quality I want others to read. What to do?

My first ‘solution’ was obvious to all – I stopped blogging! And gradually the number of hits has declined, which is fair enough.

Now my good friend, Rosanne Hawke, has inspired me to revive it by including me in the Blog Tour Award!

So here is my first blog for over two years: the pre-cursor to the Award blog, which I will post on 22 June to answer the Award's four questions on writing.

Today’s poem ‘The Earth Cries Out’ is on an issue that sorely troubles me. Forgive me if you don’t find the plight of asylum seekers disturbing too (apparently at least 60% of Australians don’t), but I hope you can at least appreciate the second stanza.

And…

after you have read it, I’d really like your ideas about my blogging problem. What would you like to read on this blog that you reckon might be manageable once a month? (I know, once a week would be better but, honestly, I don’t think I can do that). One option is the best 300 words I’ve written on my novel that month. Another is to move away from just stories and poems, including (for example) writing tips, my life as a ‘submerged’ writer, faith-informed writing, life in general...

BTW, if the comments button doesn’t work for you, you can send me an email at bellwriting@gmail.com. I’d love to hear from you!

The Earth Cries Out

I

The once mundane glory of life’s daily rhythms

pulsing a future for the family,

the tedious rising to work,

to eat, to sleep (repeat)

– ancient rhythms –

halted.

Gone

the streets

where voices raised

were only children’s cheers

and the cries of the fruit seller.

Torn by hatred, trust is a tattered flag

signalling surrender to relentless terror.                               

The earth cries out.

II

A tree stands dead, droughted and decapitated,

prized home to a succession of wild birds.

Rosellas, galahs, lorikeets

compete for the shelter

of a burr hole

exposed.

Air

quivers

with chainsaw buzz.

Orange ropes, danger’s cue,

lash the trunk. Chunks of timber thump

to the ground, and with them the burr hole nest.

Leafless landmark gone, where will the birds find refuge?           

The earth cries out.

III

Seas away from the streets of death, boats carry hope

which builds a nest in a barren landscape.

Yearning for new life, it waits…and wilts…

Shelter becomes prison

No welcome arms

No home.

Gone

the beat

of life’s normal

rhythms. The flag of trust,

roughly repaired, is fallen and

lies discarded. No terror now but mere

oblivion, a death more discreet than drowning.                

The earth cries out. 

See you next time!

Claire Belberg

Welcome to Mountain Beautiful - stories and poems by Claire Belberg

Welcome to the Belberg blog! I am planning to share poems and excerpts of stories I have written, for your enjoyment. Let me know which ones hit the spot for you.

A bit of a bio: I live in the Adelaide Hills in South Australia, surrounded by gum trees and yellow-flowering acacias, possums, wattle birds, koalas, and a host of other wildlife. The neighbours are reasonably tame though :) I have a family, tropical fish and one chicken. I write for children, young adults and adults in no particular genre (the miscellaneous side of 'literary') but I love to write about what's going on inside people.

Here's an excerpt from my story 'Head in the Clouds':

'I can't believe this is happening,' Jennifer said out loud for the comfort of hearing something familiar.

            'I can! It's just like I wanted,' piped a young girl's voice from behind her.

            Jennifer jumped. 'Who are you?' she asked, peering at the girl uncertainly.

            'I'm Jennifer. How did you get here?'

            She was a funny little thing, the woman thought. She reminded her of herself as a child, only sweeter in manner. 'Well, isn't that amazing?' she said aloud, her eyebrows raised. 'My name's Jennifer too. I came here on a sailing boat. What about you?'

            'Me too. I never knew sailing would feel so much like flying.' The child held out her arms and spun around.

            'Ooh, careful! How do you know you won't fall through the cloud and out the bottom?' The adult Jennifer hadn't moved yet for fear of that.

            'It's fine. You should try it. It's like . . . like dancing in cottonwool.' Little Jennifer continued her dance in wider and wider circles.

            Jennifer the woman moved gingerly, and found the insubstantial mist to be as firm as land. Relieved, she turned back to the little girl. 'We need to decide on names. We can't both be Jennifer or people will get confused.'

            'What people?' the girl asked, looking around. 'I don't think there are any. What a shame. I'd like to meet the people who live here.'

            'Yes, but names,' the woman repeated. 'Do you have a nickname or do they call you 'Jenny'?'

            'I don't like 'Jenny',' the girl said, frowning, then brightening. 'You could call me Poppet. My granddad calls me that. I didn't like it at first, but he said it was a special name for a special girl.' She did a special girl pirouette. But her words had made the woman shiver.

Well, that's all for this week. There's much more to that story, so let me know if you're interested in reading more of it.

See you next week!

Claire Belberg