Alison Hodgson

Expert on the etiquette of perilous times.

Writers: A Blog You Should Really Read. Please.

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Have you ever fallen in love with someone online?

I have. Twice.

My first cyber romance was with a pug named Tonka, a fat and jolly fellow whose picture I saw on the local Pug Rescue and he stole.my.heart. but Paul opposed adopting a second dog. It would take someone burning our house down and our little girl working her heart out  to get Paul to change his mind.

My second online romance was unknowingly match made by Michael Hyatt whom I follow on Twitter and Facebook. He wrote the book Platform: Get Noticed in a Noisy World which is a helpful guide for aspiring writers as well as those who are already published.

Mr. Hyatt advocates intentional leadership and constructs clear action plans for his readers. He’s very encouraging and upbeat but, for someone whose default action plan is: 1. Make coffee  2. Read  3. Slip into the fetal position, I have found Mr. Hyatt’s information—on occasion—to be the teensiest bit overwhelming.

If you keep up with the publishing industry, the news can be grim. Everything is changing and most will tell you, not for the better. Many blog posts from professionals in book publishing could be illustrated by  Edvard Munch and as much as I want to stay current and keep learning, it becomes disheartening.

Last year Hyatt retweeted  an editor who worked on Platform, Jamie Chavez, with a post titled, “Words I Never Want to See in Your Novel. Please.” It was the “Please.” that got me. Short story: I clicked on the link and fell in love with Jamie’s mix of brilliance, bossiness and fun!

I was expecting a list of 15 impossibles things to do today to make my writing dreams come true…maybe…probably not!—and instead I found language and LOVE. I read and read and then I tracked her down on Facebook—something I never do—and asked her to be my Friend…if she didn’t keep FB private—which I completely understood—not that she was asking for my understanding.

I’m so glad this made her laugh and she said yes because we’ve been having a good time online ever since.

Jamie is a developmental editor, a book doctor, if you will, someone who understands the art, as well as the craft, of writing and the lady knows her stuff. Her blog is full of helpful advice for writers and she’s a voracious reader so there’s so much for anyone who loves language and books.

Do yourself a favor and check out my lovely friend’s blog HERE.

What NOT to Say After a House Fire: “At Least You Got a New House!”

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photo: Sandi Gunnett

It is so strange to see your life frozen in time.

Last week I was featured on Houzz.com with the article  “10 Real Ways You Can Help After a House Fire.” Houzz was a helpful resource throughout the rebuild, especially during the planning stage. I’m delighted to write for them.

If you are a long time reader you might remember the struggle I was having trying to write a concise account of the fire. Only recently has the “story” felt over and how long it has gone on has been a source of sorrow and—if I’m honest—shame.  I could never have imagined how painful this entire experience would be nor how long it would take, even after everything was “back to normal” although I can’t tell you exactly what that means now.

As I was reading about the Waldo Canyon Fire in Colorado Springs, I came across an interview with a woman who evacuated her home in Colorado Springs and had already gone through the Hayman Fire of 2002 in which she and her husband lost their business and livelihood. Regarding the Waldo Canyon fire she said, “It’s not the fear of losing stuff. It’s the fear of starting over.

When I read that I sighed. She knew. From what I can tell, most people who lose all their possessions—in one way or another—tend to hold more loosely to things afterwards. You know what you can live without and it’s practically everything. Our old house was more than 2500 square feet and the things I have wept over could fit into a small closet with room to spare. And yet, just the thought of going through the process of rebuilding again makes me want to climb into any closet and never come out.

A peculiar aspect of a house fire is, in most cases, there is a brand new house at the end of the story, so you know, happy ending. I know someone whose 100 year old farmhouse burned. She is grateful for her new house and she misses her old one. I do not miss my old house, but my nine year old daughter does. She has wept many tears for her home.

Unless we pay it, we can’t ever know the full cost, can we? I’m still paying the price for our fire, literally: our mortgage increased and figuratively when I get up at night and walk by any of the windows on the north side and reflexively glance out and scan the yard for a dark figure. I’m not consciously afraid, just assessing conditions, making sure another arsonist isn’t out there.

When someone has experienced a grave loss, it’s not the responsibility of those of us on the outside to extract the possible benefits of the situation.  When we preface anything with “At least” we are ignoring the loss and that doesn’t make it go away. For a sorrow to heal it needs to be acknowledged and mourned.

And for those inside the tragedy, “at least” comes from such a weak place. When I’m looking for a lifeline to pull me through the pain, I prefer the strength of gratitude.

In the early days after our fire, I was only thankful. As time and trauma wore on, this seemed to slip and I was so ashamed. What helped me in the middle of everything was when people asked, “How is it going?” When I told them, with perhaps a little too much detail, but then caught myself and apologized for going on and on…or didn’t and just went and went…or started to cry, they were gracious and kind, tolerant and forgiving. They were curious and listened. They taught me so well and I’m forever grateful.

Welcome

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Today I have a post up on the Breathe Christian Writer’s Conference blog on the subject of writing true. It features a previous post, from this blog as well as a bit of writerly commentary.

If you are a writer—of any sort—I highly recommend you come to Breathe. It’s sponsored by my writer’s group The Guild and we work so hard for it to be a wonderful, enriching experience. The feedback we get, year after year, is that it is.  I’m going to be writing soon about why I recommend attending writer’s conferences in general, and Breathe specifically, regardless of where you are in your writing.

If you are visiting here from the Breathe blog, welcome.

Six years and one day after May Day

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Yesterday I remembered  a post I had written on May Day back in 2006. That was a really good time for me. God’s love had become profoundly real. I was grabbing people’s sleeves and telling them, “The Bible is FULL of the love of God.” This was often met with nervous glances. No one knows what to do when someone says something obvious with total wonder. Only kids can get away with that sort of behavior.

I had been held hostage by the grace of God for years, roughly since I became a mother. Stockholm Syndrome had finally set in and it was wonderful.

These days, I’m focusing on hope and clutching at people’s sleeves again stating the obvious with awe. Hope seems to be really important to God too.

Up until a few months ago I’d missed that as well.

If you’d like to read that post, it’s right HERE.

The choice in the gap between our talent and our desire

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Jana Riess, in her  session at The Festival on memoir, recommended “The Getaway Car: A Practical Memoir about Writing and Life” by Ann Patchett and referenced this,
I believe that, more than anything else, this grief of constantly having to face down our own inadequacies is what keeps people from being writers. Forgiveness, therefore, is key. I can’t write the book I want to write, but I can and will write the book I am capable of writing. Again and again throughout the course of my life I will forgive myself.

I like it because it acknowledges the disappointment that comes from not measuring up to our desire.


Filmmaker David Shiyang Liu created a wonderful video based on Ira Glass’ thoughts on the creative process.


The last workshop I attended at Festival was a panel with Susan Isaacs, Mark Richard and Scott Teems. 
I chose it because I had wanted to see Isaacs and missed her other sessions. This panel was to be on 
“Navigating Faith and Work: Hollywood and the Writer” which wasn’t of particular interest to me, but 
I enjoyed it. 


Mark Richard talked going to New York and meeting up with a bunch of other southern writers “because 
that’s what Southerners do when we get to New York — we find each other.” After, I don’t know how 
many years, there was only Richard and another woman who made it. Richard said it wasn’t because he 
was the most talented, but because he didn’t give up.


Teems said, “What challenges you the most doesn’t challenge your talent, it challenges your desire to be
a writer.”


This seems to contradict what Ira Glass is saying, but it doesn’t. So many of us surrender our desire to write
when we come to terms with the realities of our lack of talent. For many, it doesn’t occur to us that our
abilities are organic and that writing is first and always a practice.


In “Your Life as Story”(Which I highly recommend to those structuring memoirs) Tristine Rainer says, 
“…the central character should have a clear desire line—it can bend, it can turn unexpectedly, but it should
 not break; it should be intense and continuous.”


When we get clear on what we want: to write, and what we need to do: to write, then it gets pretty simple—
rarely easy—but simple, and our desire can carry us through.