It Ain't too Late...

"P.D. James published her first book, Cover Her Face at age 42.

Rachel Carson published her first book, Silent Spring, at age 54.

Annie Proulx published her first book, Postcards, at age 58.

Penelope Fitzgerald published her first novel, The Golden Child, at age 61.

Frank McCourt published his first book, Angela's Ashes, at age 66.

Peter Pouncey published his first book, Rules for Old Men Waiting, at age 67.

Harriet Doerr published her first book, Stones for Ibarra, at age 73.

Helen Hooven Santmyer published her first bestseller, "...And Ladies of the Club" at age 88.

So "I'm too old to be a writer" or "It's too late to be a writer" really didn't apply to these people. Should it apply to you?

(List courtesy of The Pocket Muse: Endless Inspiration by Monica Wood).
All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2011

Strong Female Role Models

For the record, I didn't grow up with strong female role models. I had a "stereotypical" Asian daughter's upbringing. According to my mother, my goal in life was "to go to school, get a good job and help the family." It was implied that I would follow the desired paths of law or medical school. My mother had been a nurse' she had hopes I would follow in her footsteps.

Being a writer wasn't encouraged. I knew I had no real desire to enter the medical profession, although I admired people who had the courage (and determination) to become doctors. Being a lawyer wasn't too appealing to me, either. When I told Mom that I was thinking about majoring in journalism, she had visions of CNN dancing in her head.

"Oh, that's so dangerous!" she gasped. Or she wanted me to take her on overseas assignments so she could travel. On the whole, she didn't approve of my dreams or ambitions. They were not part of her plan.

As a result, my writing had very few strong female characters. Most of them were submissive and suffering, or domineering and meddling. I didn't know better at the time. One of my friends at the time commented, "Do you really hate us that much?" I guess I had a subconscious scorn and disdain for women, whom I considered weak. I must have spewed a lot of venom in those early days. In one way, it cleared a lot of emotional garbage that was happening at the time. It allowed me to reconcile my feelings of an independent person breaking free of her mother's shadow.

I began looking at others for role models: teachers, acquaintances, friends. What kind of qualities appealed to me? What kind of traits do I want? Honesty, courage, strength, patience, enducrace, love, honor and respect. To be treated, and treat others, equally, instead of assuming control over others and forcing them to do your will.

I also turned to books, mainly science fiction and fantasy. Authors like Marion  Zimmer Bradley (The Mists of Avalon) and Mercedes Lackey (the Heralds of Valdemar series) included powerfu characters in their stories. To my delight, I found David Weber's Honor Harrington series. Honor's character has been described as "a female Horatio Hornblower or Lord Admiral Nelson".

Although these women embody sterling qualities, they are far from infallible. Morgaine Le Fey is a priestess of the Old Celtic Ways, and tries to stem the tide of a new religion in Britain: Christianity. Talia Sensdaughter struggles to deal with strange powers. Honor Harrington deals with politics that interfere with her military career, as well as her personal life. They must overcome their struggles in a very human-like manner.

Anime cartoons for young girls featured a strong central female character. Most of the time, it centered on a normal girl who had been granted magical powers to do some good in the world. The more mature films showed women in positions of power: military leaders, pilots, and heads of business corporations. Even the villains possessed a delicious ruthlessness that was unique. Women held their own beside the men (and even had somewhat believable sex lives!) It was an eye opener for me.

All this influenced my writing in a positive way. Gone was the passive geisha girl, the teary-eyed Victorian heroine. I began to unlock a new treasure chest of characters. They spoke with new confidence and new life and enriched my literary world a thousand-fold.

All original writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Does Writing Age Like a Fine Wine?

I've spent the weekend digging through my old writing notebooks, some dating back more than 10 years. I'm amazed at all the writing I've done that I've long forgotten about. At the time, I just dashed off these little poetry/short story snippets without too much thought. Words scribbled between teaching classes, grading papers at the local coffeehouse, and waiting for the city bus at the stop. The years of my student teaching were grueling, with hardly any time to breathe. (the first one was in languages/ESL for undergrad. The second was in a 5th grade classroom, all subjects for masters). Writing was a necessary outlet to preserve my sanity.


As I look back at these pages, I can remember the circumstances of each piece. My health has always been up-and-down, with constant infections and other problems. It wasn't until I was formally diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis in 2006 that many of the incidents made sense. This poem was written on June 1, 2001:

The pain makes me tremble.

It pierces with dull blades

Sharp when water flows.

It burns my blood.

When my mind is clouded,

my body becomes a rod

attracting all kids of thoughts.

My back feels heavy,

my legs sting.

The hornets hide in every crevice

And poke with awful sting.

My soul stands up against it,

saying, "No, you don't,

Not this time."

But the shell I occupy

turns traitor.

And I crumble with little strength.

I rebel against my fate

And bear the agony alone,

Hiding the ashes within my throat,

Withering slowly within my heart.

---RAD 6/1/01

I'm amazed at how relevant those feelings are to me, nearly ten years later, and how powerful they remind me of that time of my life. Here's another one, written the same year, when I was angry at my husband. We'd been married 5 years at this point:

An idiot

knows he's an idiot.

A smart idiot

bites his tongue

till it bleeds.

But a genius idiot

dies a death

of a cold hell

where he rambles on

to an audience of one:

himself.

---RAD 7/16/01

Again, I'm struck at the relevance of this poem at the time and now. This was before we had our children, and two of our three children's diagnosis of moderate/severe autism. It wasn't until much later that I realized my husband had all the signs of Aspberger's Syndrome (high-functioning autism), which includes brilliance in certain areas (in his case, computers), but difficulty in relating to others' thoughts and feelings.

I'll close with one more short poem, about trying to find who you are.

Finding yourself in a mirror,

is such an easy thing to do.

Your image warped

beyond recognition.

Good in place of evil---

Perfect lines blurred.

Yet which one is the right one?

The crisp reflection of everyday life?

Or the shadows hidden within?

---RAD 3/11/00

Writers, when you look at your old manuscripts, what do you see? Can you remember the time and place when you wrote it? Can you remember how you felt at the time? Look back, you'd be surprised.

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

New Facebook Page: I Gotta Write Community

Now there's a page on Facebook connected with the blog, here: I Gotta Write Community Page. Stop on by and say hi on the Discussion Page! If you are a writer, artist, or all-around creative person (who is all of us!), you're definitely welcome! If you also have a blog, website or Facebook/MySpace page and would like to exchange links, please let me know and I'll add you to the IGW! main page.


Thanks,
Annie

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Language, Writing and Art Entwined

Whenever I can, I like to incorporate my various interests in my writing and art. One of my main hobbies is languages. I originally trained as a foreign language/English as a second language teacher in college. I love the sounds, the complexity of grammar, how semantics can change a spoken or written word, and how body language conveys messages on its own.

I think that's why I enjoy writing science fiction and fantasy. I can build my own worlds and make up their cultures and languages. Sometimes they are based on Earth peoples and places, other times they sound truly alien. I can draw on my experience as a linguist, teacher and artist to make my stories unique and believable.

Language can be a basis for art too. I'm currently studying Japanese, and brushing up on my Mandarin Chinese. My family history is from Southeast Asia, so it's also a link to my own cultural roots. Here are some examples of how I combine 3 of my loves: foreign language, writing and art.

Marumochi, Japanese rice cakes. The word is written in hiragana and kanji (two of the three writing systems in Japanese.

 Sakura, cherry blossom. The word is written on the right (and vertically) in hiragana.


 These two are Chinese calligraphy, yellow acrylic on a red acrylic background.  The character on the left is Ming, "bright", which consists of the characters for the sun and the moon. Makes sense, in a way, especially once you see the characters side by side to understand the meaning.

   The one on the right is Fu,  "happiness". This one's a bit more abstract. On the right side are the symbols meaning "to fill" (which consist of the symbols for "one", "mouth" and "field"), joined with the symbol for "heaven" on the left. To be filled with bounty from the rice field, sent from heaven equals happiness.

Language, writing and art are interconnected in many ways. I really enjoy incorporating the three in many different ways and in many different mediums. Fiction. prose, poetry, collage and art all tell a different story for different people. What does it tell you?

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Decoding Baby Babble--Language in Motion

My younger daughter has been babbling up a storm. It's amazing to hear her, especially since my older two are autistic and non-verbal. I was trained as a languages/linguistics person, so this is something new for me.


"She's loud," my sister commented yesterday, trying to raise her voice over Sarah telling her about her day.


"Yeah," I agreed.


"She sounds like Mom."


"Mom babbles?"


"No. Well, yeah. I mean, she *sounds* like Mom. You know, how she talks. With everything, like her face and her hands."


Mom does talk loudly and fast with the occasional back slap to make her point. It's the Spanish side of the family (Filipino/Spanish/Chinese), the enthusiasm for life. And until Dee pointed it out, I didn't realize that Sarah had inherited that quality. It can be annoying or endearing, depending on whether or not you're in striking range.


A person's mannerisms can be a definite clue to their personality. If you watch someone in a coffee shop, you can pick up clues about their lives. Are they on a cell phone with their boss? Taking their toddler's hand out of the candy jar? Wanting their coffee *yesterday*, hurry up, they're on the clock? Flirting with the barista? Typing away on a laptop, oblivious to the rest of the world? Do they talk with a slow drawl, quickly, with an accent? Watch and listen, and you can learn a lot about character.


Today, I can tell Sarah is going to be just like my mom: loud, chatty and expressive. She'll definitely be quite a character.

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Art and Poem: Serenity

Meditation

Serenity (Haiku)

I

In my busy life,

I rarely have time to sit

and contemplate things.

II

So when the chance comes

I take deep breaths and focus

upon my blessings.

III

Family, friends and

the chance to use my pen to

make a difference.

IV

So no matter how

stressed I feel at times, I try

a new perspective.

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Ah, the People You'll Meet (Part II of III)

Sometimes a chance encounter will spark an idea for a character or two. You could be standing in the lunch line in the cafeteria or at the grocery store. You  could be walking around the Mall or the track. Each person brings his or her own story and perhaps you might hear a little bit of it.


Yesterday, I met a gentleman at the used bookstore. His brother ran the store, and he was visiting from Daytona Beach, Florida. As I put the kids in the van, he told me that he and his companion had enjoyed their stay in Charlotte over the 4th of July weekend. He asked me where I was from (and I get that question a lot). My parents are from the Philippines, but I was born in England, married to a Southerner and mum to 3 kids. When I mentioned the Philippines, he immediately told me the story of his cousin, who married a mail-order bride from the Philippines in the 40's after World War II. He introduced me to his companion, who was originally from Alaska.


She seemed to be a nice lady, with the weathered brown skin of an Aleutian Eskimo and pretty dark eyes. She complimented me on how my son and baby daughter were so beautiful. She told me that she and her companion had been together for 28 years (not married, said the man, just together) and that they were on their way back to Daytona Beach. We didn't talk long in the hot sun, but the couple made a definite impression on me. I had all kinds of questions I didn't have the time to ask: What was he doing in Alaska? How did the two meet?  What was it about him, that she would leave Alaska for Florida? Did they have any children or grandchildren? Were they retired in Florida? What were the stories of their youth?


The spark for a story. Look around at the people around you, ask questions and listen to their answers. Or answer those questions yourself, make up a background or personal history. Pretend that two of them met in a certain setting and have them interact. What happens?


The places you go, the people you meet...

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Oh, the Places You'll Go! (Part I of III)

This morning, two of my kids and I ran errands all over Charlotte. I drove down several roads and took routes that were out of the ordinary for me, just by virtue of where we ended up in the city. As we went on our way, some unique store signs caught my attention.


"Situations" was the name of a bar on Tryon Street. Now THAT was a strange name of the pub. My author persona immediately asked, "What kind of situations happen at this pub?" Bar fights? Happy Hour? A place where two people find their respective soulmates? The site of a covert operation?


"Pet Store: The Last Place on Earth". No joke, that was the sign in front of the store. Why was it the 'last place on earth'? It specializes in otherworldly companions? If you can't find it on Earth, you'll find it there? It has an underground bunker, in case the world comes to an end, with enough supplies for Man's Best Friend too?


On our way to the used bookstore on Central Avenue, we drove through Plaza-Midwood, an area of historic houses. One house sported stone lions at the door, another had a huge rock face in the front yard. Think Easter Island statue. A white picket face encircled another house, and a fourth house looked like a huge castle painted yellow, complete with turrets and white trim. I almost expected to see a suit of armor on that front porch.


The way home was just as interesting. Charlotte has a railyard just outside Uptown, and there's an overpass that gives you a clear view of the trains, the tracks and the various buildings in Uptown, including Bank of America and Wachovia. The contrast between the old and the new was pretty striking. Aging, rusting train cars with the sleek, glass-enclosed bank headquarters.


Go out and see what's out around you. You might find the setting of your new writing project or have the spark of a new plot.

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

Stories from the Hairdresser, the Coffee Shop and Other Places

Yeah, I finally got around to cutting my hair today. I chopped off about 4 inches worth. The hairdresser asked me, "Are you sure you want to cut so much off?" I said, "North Carolina summer. It'll grow back in time for winter." So yeah, shoulder length and layered. MUCH cooler and easier to take care of. With 3 kids, I don't have time to fuss with my hair. Grunge Mum 101.


We chatted while she did my hair about everything. Busy times/slack times in the hair salon (high times: prom, Easter, Christmas, weddings. Low times: NASCAR races at Lowe's Motor Speedway. Seriously. Everyone's at the track. No one can park at the Mall.) Interesting clients. Learned a lot about daily life as a hair dresser. Kids bouncing on mattresses and dancing to Spongebob and the Wiggles.


Filed the info away under "Possible character". Even while I'm getting 4 inches lopped off at the salon, I' m still watching and listening. Yeah, the writer in me is always on the lookout for possible inspiration from real life. They say that sometimes Real Life is stranger than Fiction, and that's absolutely true. Real Life can inspire fiction. Being a writer requires you to watch and listen...you never know who or what will inspire an story.


Coffee houses are also good places to find writing sparks. My favorite place is called Jackson's Java, an independent coffee place just down the road from UNC Charlotte. It's a college hangout, and during the year, all sorts of people drop by. I'll jot notes to myself in my notebook and maybe do a quick sketch or two of a cool set of teacups they have on sale, or maybe a bottle of coffee flavoring.


Just watch, listen and find inspiration for your writing. It'll come from the most unexpected places.

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

What If...? (or Three Hobbits and a TARDIS)

"What if?" is my favorite question. Not "Why? or How?" or "What For?" It sparks a story idea, it presents possibilities when I get stuck on a plot, it fires up the creative juices.  Sometimes the most outrageous stories come out of those writing sessions, but that's all right. Creativity is rarely on the straight and narrow. As a friend of mine likes to say, "If you ain't outrageous, if you don't question, you ain't living."


Like:
1) What if Frodo and the Hobbits found Doctor Who's TARDIS? Could they even reach the control panel? What happened to the Doctor (choose your incarnation here)? Could they just whisk off to Mount Doom or will there be other misadventures along the way?


2) What if Jack the Ripper came back in the 31st century? Technology's advanced by this time, so would he use a different modus operanti in his murders? Or would he stick with the tried and true, 19th century style? Was he frozen in cryostasis? Is Scotland Yard (or the 31st c. equivalent) still pursuing him, or someone different?


3) What if present-day Earth became a utopia? How would the people live? Is it violence-free, disease-free, poverty-free? How could such a society exist and maintain itself? Or is there something darker under the surface (Like Orwell's "Animal Farm" or "1984'?)


4) What if the London Underground/New York Transit System/BART got stuck? Or if certain hidden tunnels were secret passages to different worlds? Or maybe a train driver/conductor/worker finds a long-lost treasure deep underground?  Maybe there are really mutant sewer rats or alligators down there?


5) What if no one could speak? How could anyone communicate with each other? Sign language? Writing? Body language? 

That sort of thing.Sometimes the most outrageous stories comes out of those sessions.  But that's all right.

Hmm...what if?

Ask yourself..."What if...?" and maybe it'll take you on a writing journey you didn't expect.

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010

"Eureka!" she yelled in the bathtub...

I've got several fanfics and other things going on at once. I know that these times are usually pretty busy, with multiple windows open on the computer and plot threads all over the place. My Muse picks this time to pack up and go to Bermuda, and I can rarely convince Her to come back until she's damn good and ready.


But She left me a some ideas before she left. Now I have a good idea of how to write my "5 + 1" fic (which is a short fiction piece with 5 times an event happened and 1 time it didn't. Like "5 times [insert character here] cheated death and the 1 time [he/she] bit the dust.) and how to continue another story that I was stuck on. Eureka! moments never happen for me when I'm at the computer, of course. It's when I'm trying to get off a busy exit on I-85 or trying to keep my son from opening every box in the pantry or sitting with my younger daughter with her Legos.


And most times, it's when I don't have anything to write on or write with. I've taken to lugging a notebook and a pen with me wherever I go. If I don't write it down, I lose it. My brain functions that way.


How do ideas come to you? and how do you "capture" or remember them?

All writing and art copyright A. Dameron 2000-2010