Blog # 8: Jess Yaun

I haven’t worked on my novel once this summer. I needed to take a break and let the story simmer; let lime trees, hot Carolina sun, a hedgehog and two tigers set up residence in my imagination. With every book we read I entered a different world, each of them complete and vivid. I found myself on a shrimper’s boat watching for a white dolphin, hiding in the concierge’s armchair sipping jasmine tea, and falling asleep on a plush, new mattress given to me by my lover. Whenever I thought about leaving one of those worlds to enter my protagonist’s world, I found my limbs unwilling. I realized there wasn’t a world to return to.

The first section of my novel suffers a loss of place. In the second section, when my character Rebecca lives among the Cherokees, the place is bright and vibrant. I can feel the breeze on my bare skin, walk beneath the red and orange leaves of the forest, and hear the river rushing on the edge of the village. But the first section of Rebecca’s life, in the present moment, there is no world. I gave the reader the vaguest sense of where she is. I wanted her to be lonely but I made her too alone; I wanted to show a disconnect present in modern times but didn’t give the story enough characters to depict that disconnect. And above all, she has no place. I wanted Rebecca to not have a place, but I failed to create a place around her in the process. Instead, I need to create the world around her and figure out how to show that she doesn’t feel a part of it. Just because she feels she doesn’t belong to her world doesn’t mean there isn’t a world!

The books also reminded me to let go. Since beginning the MAPW program I’ve been like Hemingway, painstakingly choosing each word. But this is not the kind of writer I’ve always been. While I’ve learned the value of revision and careful word choice, I’ve restricted myself to the point of strangling my creativity and forcing myself into rigid lines of what is acceptable. Strout prompted, there are different ways of constructing stories. Smyth whispered, find the heart of your character’s world and let it flow from you in beautiful words. Barbery advised, the big things you want to say are important, more important than technicalities or what others may think of how you express it.

Toni Says Thank You

My many thanks to all of you. You have made my summer brighter.

Blog # 8 by Brittany Leazer: Its in the Details

This course has challenged me in my own writing in so many ways. I have learned so much about my writing that I would have never learned without these books. First of all, I would have never even picked up most of these books without being told to. I would have looked at the back cover of most of them and then returned them to the shelf. For instance, Lime Tree Can't Bear Orange did not sound appealing to me, but I could not but it down. I was completely overwhelmed by the beauty of the writing and incredible descriptions. I learned that I need to be very aware of the details in my writing. All of the books we have read have been so precise in the details. In the Prince of Tides, the setting was so vivid, because of the details surrounding it. In Olive Kitteridge, the characters came alive because of the details. In A Movable Feast, Hemingway always pays careful attention to the details of language. He chooses each word so carefully.

In my own writing I have been careless with details. I have been hoping that the reader will just get it. I have learned in this course that to truly write something worth reading, I must take great care with the details.

Blog Post # 8: Ray Atkins Wishes You All Well

Beach Readings for Writers has been an enjoyable class for me, both because of the selection of books on the reading list and because of my interactions with all of you. During the course of the semester I learned (or re-learned) a bit more about the complex craft of writing from each of the authors we read.

In A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway reminded me that being a writer is very cool. No, really. I became a writer in the first place because I always believed that it was the best of all possible occupations. Occasionally I have forgotten this and have allowed the realities of the writing life to spoil the experience, and I was going through such a period when I opened this book. Thanks, Papa, for adjusting my attitude.

In A Prince of Tides, Pat Conroy rekindled my lifelong love affair with beautiful language. As far back as I can remember, I have been drawn to books with lush, descriptive words and exotic turns of phrase. I have always believed that how a story is told is at least as important as the story itself, and every time I read Conroy, I am encouraged to write magnificent sentences.

In Olive Kitteridge, Elizabeth Strout taught me that a character doesn’t have to be likeable in order to be sympathetic. This was an epiphany for me. Olive was an unpleasant, selfish woman. I took an instant dislike to her. Yet by the middle of the book, I truly cared about her, and I wanted her life to turn out all right.

In The White Tiger, Aravind Adiga taught me that a book can be serious and whimsical at the same time. I think that this is an especially important skill for writers of serious fiction. Have you ever sat down with an “important” book only to have the author beat you over the head with the book’s message? I usually end up with a headache, and the book generally finds itself donated to the Salvation Army.

In Lime Tree Can’t Bear Orange, Amanda Smyth showed me that simple can sometimes be better. As I have said, I love rich language, but there is a fine line between a verdant sentence and an overwritten one. Smyth walks this line and makes it look easy for the rest of us to follow.

In The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Muriel Barbery reminded me of the importance of titles. This seems like such a simple lesson, but that is precisely why it is easy to forget. It doesn’t matter how great your book is if no one picks it up in the first place.

In A Pearl in the Storm, Tori Murden McClure taught me the importance of action. The action in her story was non-stop, and the book was hard to put down as a result.

And finally, in The Ghost of Milagro Creek, Melanie Sumner taught me that it’s okay for a writer to get outside of her comfort zone if the story she wishes to tell is out there beyond the boundaries, waiting.

Samara Blog 8: Where do I go from here?

I must say that almost all of the books we were asked to read for this class are most likely books I would have never picked up on my own. However, I am glad that I have had the opportunity to read all of them. It is important to read books out of your comfort zone and some of these were way out for me. I have learned a lot from all of the selections chosen, but four of the books had a significant inpact on me as a writer.

I not only enjoyed The White Tiger as a reader but also as a writer. I found that Adiga's style of writing suited the story he told exceptoionally well. I think that writing the truth can sometimes be a challenge and Adiga rose to that challenge. Even though his work is a piece of fiction it is clear that he has an agenda to tell about life in India from a persepective that is not often heard from.

The Prince of Tides will most likely be the biggest help to my writing. I struggle with setting in my works. I get so involved in the characters and the dialogue that I tend to forget about setting all together. Conroy's writing changed that for me. The minute I began to read this book my eyes grew wider and wider at all of his descriptions of setting and how he actually made the setting another character in the novel. I also feel this way about Lime Tree Can't Bear Orange. The descriptions of the people in this novel are wonderful. Each character is so clearly rendered that the reader would know this person if she met any of these characters in the street.

Olive Kitteridge is a novel that I will come back to often to look at usage of point of view. I am awed by Strout's use of point of view within her novel. Each chapter lends itself to a specific person's voice and Strout is able to execute this effectively. Point of view can make or break a piece of writing. Some stories are meant to be told from a distance and some are meant to be up close and personal.

Without a doubt I learned something from each and every book we read in this class. I also learned that it is okay to come out of your comfort zone as a reader because it just might make you a better writer.

Blog #8 Dina's Journey of Thought

Wow - what a semester! When I signed up for this class, I wasn't sure how an online format would work for a class about reading. With great relief, I quickly found out that with intelligent, dedicated classmates and a list of thought-provoking novels, it probably worked better than in a classroom. Since I was forced to write my responses after reading beautifully written prose and consider my classmates' points-of-view before responding to them, I began looking at reading and writing in a very different way. Here are just a few of the things I learned.

• With A Moveable Feast, I found out that the novels I feed on are more than likely not the result of a few months of easy, fluid writing. The best books I read were probably written in fits and starts, edited multiple times, hated at times by the writer, and took dedication and commitment to complete. Writing is not for the weak-hearted, and I have to be willing to work through my self-doubt and fear and "write the best story [I] can" (183).
• A Pearl in the Storm showed me how to weave the past and present together with beautiful descriptions thrown in to light the way. Her personal story also taught me that dreams can come true if you never give up.
• The Prince of Tides inspired me to do a better job of setting, characterization, and descriptive language. I mean, come on, "lost in the coilings and overlays of a memory tight-fisted with the limitlessly prodigal images of a Carolina sea island" (110). Can you get any more evocative than that? He just inspired me to be the best writer I can possibly be. He made me want to write a different book than the one I'd been working on because, after that, I wanted to tell a more intricate story.
• I continued to think I could do more, had to do more, when I read Olive Kitteridge. Her stories were simple but still showed the complexity of the human heart. But what I really loved was the unique format. It made me think about different ways to tell a story beyond the typical novel format. What could I do that was new and interesting?
• The White Tiger made me want to create a character with more dimensions. Although I can't say I liked Balram and would want to have tea with him, I was fascinated by him. He had highly moral ideas in some respects, yet he was willing to commit murder to be free. What situation or conflict would bring out a different side to a character - a side that even the character didn't know he/she had?
• Lime Tree Can't Bear Orange once again gave me picturesque language that painted a foreign land that didn't feel foreign because Smyth took me there with Celia.
• The Elegance of the Hedgehog showed me that beautiful writing isn't enough. Tell a story. Staying inside a character's head for several chapters and discussing one topic too long is death to the reader. No matter how good a writer you are, beautiful words are only words if they don't engage the reader and make the reader care.

I haven't done much personal writing this semester or applied these lessons to my current novel for several reasons: one reason was time, but I could've made the time if I'd really wanted to. The main reason was that these books, the writing, made me want to write a novel with more depth than the one I've been working on. I'm not sure exactly the story I want to tell, but I'm getting there. Then I just have to write it.

Blog #8 Toni Michael

Reading the selections that we have read and taking the time to reflect and write about those readings has shown me that I need to be more disciplined. I am a big picture kind of girl, so zeroing in on details is something that I have to work on and be attentive to. I need to focus on the details of setting, description, characterization, and purpose. In A Moveable Feast, Hemingway demonstrates time and time again that a writer must be disciplined and consistent to write daily.
Once upon a time, I was very good about journal keeping. But my entries were dry and not very descriptive. The reason for this is because I would hurry through my entries or write in such a way that was strictly to record information. This semester, I have realized my need to become a sagacious observer of people and places. If Renee and Paloma are riddled with insight, it is because Muriel Barbery is a keen individual who has worked on understanding the twists and turns of the motives behind people’s behavior. If Tom is a true Southerner, it is because Conroy has absorbed the sights, the scents, and the colors of the south. If Olive is both caustic and caring it is because Strout has shown her through the eyes of multiple perspectives.
So, what am I doing with what I learned? I am looking at everything with an eye for the details. I am purposing to write daily or as close to daily as I possibly can. I am also looking for books that have been as good as the ones I have read this summer—any suggestions?

Blog # 8 Lisa What I Did on My Summer "Vacation"

Summer is a great time to read. Two of my favorite places to read and to write are either on my front porch or next to Lake Blue Ridge. (Picture of Blue Ridge, GA while I reading for this class) I spent a lot of time on my front porch this summer reading and writing for this class.

We read books I would have never selected but I am so glad that I read them. As a writer, each selection taught me something about being a writer. Each of the books had a distinct voice. I think of what I learned at a “Discover your Voice” writing workshop, that we do not like some books because we just do not like the voice of the author. It’s okay if I did not like every book, we don’t have to like everyone. Even if I did not like every book, I learned something from each one.

From Ernest Hemingway in A Moveable Feast, I came to appreciate the writing friends I have in my life. Their contribution is a listening and critical ear that forces me to write the “one true” sentence.

Tori Muden McClure inspired me for her courage. Her courage went far beyond her rowing adventure; she had the courage of her convictions to write the spiritual side of her story. In A Pearl in the Storm, McClure shared a very personal transformation with complete transparency. I admire that more than her other great accomplishments.

Pat Conroy forced me to look up many words in The Prince of Tides. I am normally annoyed by writing that requires a dictionary, but Conroy wrote so beautifully it was an honor to learn new vocabulary from him. Story was complex model for fiction writers, I will remember this when I get overwhelmed plotting my simple stories.

Elizabeth Strout’s clever use of point of view in Olive Kitteridge taught me the reasons for using omniscient point of view. I will likely use this technique to give more latitude to my writing.

I know I am being very politically incorrect when I say this, but the last three books – I just did not like because of the foreign voice of the authors. I know this is not the “right” attitude to have; my friend Anne Richards calls me a “higher education nightmare.” I am just not a very "multi-cultural" person. I was born on the 5th of July and love everything American. I know that is not popular right now. But Aravind Adiga gave me permission to expose this dark side of my personality. I was going to be a foreign missionary until I realized I had to go to a foreign country – I went to Northern California instead for one summer. And when I call technical support and I hear, “Helloo LEEZA” in an Indian accent, I want to hang up and try again. That aside, I did learn from these foreign authors.

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga gives me license to write what I just wrote – my real opinion. I would not call it an “agenda” but a preference.

Lime Tree Can’t Bear Orange was beautifully written by Amanda Smyth. My father went to Trinidad to work after he retired and lived there for many years. He loved it. I have no desire to travel there, however wonderful her descriptions of Trinidad and Tobago. I learned from our assignment how to write a scene with my senses – that was fun and I will try that again. I especially enjoyed feedback from class members.

Muriel Barberry is not an author I would care to meet at a book signing. Her comments about not thinking about the readers in her interview with were arrogant, like her characters in The Elegance of the Hedgehog. I do not want to write something so annoying to the reader that they are tempted to put it down and not finish.

Blog #8 Heather Cook

As I look back on this semester, I’ve had quite impressive mentors. I’ve been taught by Ernest Hemingway and Pat Conroy. I’ve been around the world to India to learn from Aravind Adiga , to France to listen to Muriel Barbery, and to Trinidad and Tobago to learn from Amanda Smyth. I’ve sat with Tori Murden McClure and listened to her beautiful prose as she rowed across the Atlantic, and I’ve sat around the fire and listened to Elizabeth Strout tell her stories about Olive Kitteridge. From these authors I’ve learned quite a lot, but the biggest aspect of their writing that I have taken with me is the ability to slow down and to build the characters with grace and depth.

Out of all the authors we’ve read, Pat Conroy spoke to me the loudest. With his book that contained such memorable characters, I learned the merits of a slower pace. I was astounded at some of the details he included about the characters, things that I wouldn’t have even thought to include, yet these little details help shape the characters into the rounded people that they are in the novel. In the detective fiction piece I have begun to write during this class (which I have begun to put more focus on rather than the fantasy piece), I slowed the pace down in order for the detective to think about all the occupants within a movie theater.

Immediately bored of the previews, Spade began to profile everyone around. A man with what appeared to be black hair sat a couple rows from the front by himself. Every now and then, he would scratch the back of his head almost habitually. Sitting diagonally to the left about five rows in front of Spade was the easily aggravated young couple who were necking as if they had forgotten that they were in a public space rather than in the confines of a bedroom.

From Amanda Smyth, I learned that setting is more important than I thought. The reader needs to visualize the scenery or the world that I have created will not become real to them. Often times in my writing, I pay more attention to the temporary settings, like a certain room or a certain day’s weather, but I wouldn’t paint the larger picture of where the characters are to begin with. In the detective fiction piece I’m writing, I tried to change this by describing the physical appearance of the theater.

Although he frequented this theater, the appearance of the theater always managed to startle him. Despite the bright lights and the new paint on the outside, the insides truly showed the theater’s age. The beige walls were darkened with dust, and the burgundy carpet was worn and tattered.

Though these are only a few examples of what I’ve learned from these wonderful writers, they have had a profound effect on me, and their lessons echo through my mind as my fingers brush the keys.

Parisian Twilight Zone

You know the theme song from "The Twilight Zone?" That Do do do do, do do do do? Well, I had the good fortune to go to France last week, and my first stop was Paris. After a day of sightseeing, I settled into the hotel room to start on The Elegance of the Hedgehog. On page 19, Renee informs the reader that she is the concierge at number 7, rue de Grenelle, and I thought to myself, "What's the address of this hotel? 150 . . . rue de Grenelle." Do do do do, do do do do.

The next day, I took my husband on what he described as a death march, to see the Luxembourg Gardens. We cut down a side street to get there and I looked up at a plaque on a nearby building identifying #27 as the home of Gertrude Stein, "where she received numerous writers and artists from 1903-1938 (in French)." Do do do do, do do do do.

We left Paris to spend a week in the foothills of the French Alps, then returned to Paris. I dashed through the shops in the airport, trying to buy a few gifts to take home to my kids. I stopped at an elegant little cart and bought these gorgeous multi-colored macaroons and popped them into my carry-on. When I settled into my seat on the plane, I opened Hedgehog to finish it and read, on page 139, this haiku: If you offer a lady enemy/Macaroons from Chez Laduree/Don't go thinking/You'll be able/To see beyond. I opened my carry-on and pulled out the box of macaroons and read the label: Laduree. Do do do do, do do do do.

So you see, the things you read follow you wherever you go.

Blog #8- Kristi DeMeester

When I began my reflection, I thought back to a piece of advice an old teacher once gave me. I had asked her how I could improve my writing. She smiled before swiveling her chair to the large cherry bookcase behind her. She trailed her fingers over the middle row before pulling out a rather hefty volume and passing it to my waiting hands. “Read all you can get your hands on. Good or bad and then learn the difference between the two.”

The book she gave me was Orwell’s 1984, and instead of just reading it, I read it like a writer. Weighing what worked, what didn’t, and wondering how I could use it.

As I’ve progressed in the MAPW program, I’ve noticed that my writer brain is growing more keen, and I can largely attribute this development to the readings for this class. With every book, I found enviable elements and tucked them away for future use.

From Hemingway I take away, “Write the truest sentence you know.” Forcing myself to start somewhere and to let it be true is something with which I struggle. Hemingway taught me that it’s okay to hear the voice of the internal critic, but that it isn’t okay to let her run my writing and to keep me from writing those truths.

From Murden McClure I learned that if I announce I’m going to write in a particular genre, I should most certainly spend most of my time in that genre. Either that or detail why I’ve put a new, refreshing spin on the genre so that my reader doesn’t feel betrayed. Romance, my foot!

Oh, Olive Kitteridge. You taught me so many things. The art of layering multiple perspective around an epicenter so strong yet so fragile became a thing of magic and something I hope to gather the courage to try one day.

What I appreciated about Adiga was his ability to be honest about the reality of a world that many people consider unfathomable. To have the courage to present the reader with a protagonist that he or she will more than likely consider unlikeable demonstrates a bravery and confidence I’d love to have.

Smyth taught me about description. She taught me that flowery language full of verbosity isn’t necessary to create an image that lingers long after the final page is turned. Celia’s world is colored in so expertly, so brilliantly that at several points, Smyth literally took my breath away.

Burberry taught me of the balance between philosophic prose and plot, or at least, she taught me when to err on the side of plot to avoid losing readers within the first 100 pages.

And I come to Conroy at the end. I’m beginning to regret my initial ranking system. I think I was too fresh from reading Hedgehog to fully appreciate the entire scope of readings from the semester. I would put him first. From him I re-claim a fascination with the beauty of language and using it to craft setting and not shirking from violence because even violence has its purpose.

I thank all of you for your discussions, encouragements, and alternate viewpoints. I think I’ll spend the last three weeks of my summer being an absolute bump on a log and well…reading some more.

Blog #8 - Kathleen - Book Learnin'

I learned a lot in this class. I learned that an on-line course can be even more engaging than a classroom course. I already knew that to be a good writer, you had to read good books. Here’s what I learned, about life and about writing, from the books we read for this course (in reading order):

1. A Moveable Feast. If you want to be a writer, you have to act like a writer. Be more selfish. Make time to write every day and get out of the house. Seek out companions who want to talk about writing, literature, and ideas. Don’t overwrite; think about paring down your sentences. Write one true sentence. Write another one. Heck, write a true paragraph. Don’t marry a man who’s going to go out drinking night after night and leave you at home with the kids.

2. A Pearl in the Storm. As a nonfiction, mixed genre, book, Pearl was the most like the type of book I am working on for my capstone, my family trip-through-Ireland book, Sweater Weather. McClure, like Bill Bryson, inspires me to stuff my memoir with variety. Give your story a vehicle, such as a journey or quest, but weave in elements of your past, as well as interesting facts about the places or activities you are writing about. Incorporate meaningful quotations from other writers or historians or philosophers. Push yourself, as a writer and as a person, but know when to give yourself a break. Lighten up, Tori baby!

3. The Prince of Tides. Let yourself be haunted by your personal geography. Write about your heart’s own land, your terra, as Robert Penn Warren calls it in A Place to Come to. Conroy has reminded me that I want and need to write about my low country homeland, too. Write big, he taught me in Prince. Describe what you see and how you feel about it in lofty terms. (But get an editor who won’t let your story sprawl!)

4. Olive Kitteridge. Brilliant book, a multi-faceted diamond. The next great American classic. Lessons learned from it: Consider the parts of the whole. Use multiple perspectives. Don’t be afraid to tell it like it is. Write about imperfect people. Advance your story with memorable dialogue. Consider hormone replacement therapy.

5. White Tiger. Can you change the world with your book? Is there an issue, an agenda you’d like to present so that your readers can see how someone else lives-- and suffers? Adiga makes me consider going for the jugular.

6. Lime Tree Can’t Bear Orange. Don’t be reluctant to describe the small details; use all your senses. String your descriptions like jewels throughout your narrative.

7. The Elegance of the Hedgehog. What’s the big idea? Put that in your book—but don’t overdo it. Don’t isolate yourself personally or as a writer. Keep searching for those moments of beauty and movement, the camellia on the moss, the rosebud that falls softly from the stem to the table. Put those moments into your work.

Where do I go from here? When the semester ends, I’m going to pick up and read Melanie’s book, The Ghost of Milagro Creek, and Ray’s book, Sorrow Wood. I’m going to email Elledge and tell him what a perfect format this course has been for the summer, how it fomented an incredible sense of writing community that I wish we could keep going. And I’m going to return to my writing with renewed enthusiasm, inspiration, and ambition. Thanks, Melanie--and thanks to each one of you.

Blog #8 Melissa Davis - Learning and Using from Everyone

There's been so much I have learned from these amazing authors. Most of these books I would never have picked up and read, and I would have missed out. Even those that I didn’t particularly like, I learned from.

The vast and equally important discussions from my fellow classmates have also provided a wealth of knowledge and insight. I have enjoyed reading other’s interpretations of these works and finding out whether they saw / felt the same as I did, or if they saw / felt something completely different.


These are the some of the things I will take and use:


Hemmingway – “Write the best story you can and write it as straight as you can” (138). Hemmingway taught me to finish what I started, but only when the story is ready. All those folders and story beginnings are such wonderful potential for me and are as equally important as the finished stories. Someday I might have an epiphany and finish them all!


McClure – “Mixing genres is something I have yet to tackle unless you count the fantasy romance.” McClure’s ability to combine so many genres into one memoir made me realize that most stories, including mine, combine parts of many types of genres. My series, The Ghost Hunters, combines action, adventure, horror, science fiction, and romance (what good YA book doesn’t have a little romance in it?).


Strout – “The careful separation of the personalities within the narrations shows the individuals, as well as, their influence on each other.” Strout allows the reader to experience many characters and their effect on each other. In my story The Ghost Hunters, I have seven characters and experiencing the interaction played out in Olive Kitteridge has given me great ideas!


Adiga – “I found his frankness and fortitude very appealing and refreshing.” Balram taught me that characters need to be truthful with the reader, whatever the consequence. If told the truth and with openness and grit, characters can be respected, if not liked. In my Cupid and Psyche retelling, readers are not supposed to like one of the main characters, but I want them to respect him and understand him.


Smyth – “Smyth’s descriptions are crisp and clear and provide a visual and emotion response from the reader.” Smyth’s settings influenced my writing greatly. I hope to make my settings as lush and beautiful, as hers, as well as, use precise words to create the complete picture in the reader’s head.

Blog 8 - Jessica Quinn - "What I Learned and What I Intend To Do With It"

The topic of “What I Learned and What I’m Doing With It,” was almost as foreboding as “My Name is ______, and I’m a Writer.” I have learned a great deal about writing this summer, tips on how to write, coupled with a new strength of opinion of what I like and what I don’t and why. However, with the intense summer that I’ve had, I have yet to find the time to apply all of these lessons, thus making this blog post feel a bit intimidating. I know how I want to apply them, I just haven’t done it yet so I feel disingenuous.

When I do have the time to write again, which will be in a few short weeks once I complete an author book tour for a P.R. client, the most important rule I hope to engage in my writing habits came from Ernest Hemingway in A Moveable Feast:

It was in that room too that I learned not to think about anything that I was writing from the time I stopped writing until I started again the next day. That way my subconscious would be working on it and at the same time I would be listening to other people and noticing everything, I hoped; learning, I hoped; and I would read so that I would not think about my work and make myself impotent to it.(Location 184-199 on the Kindle Edition, approximately p.11)

Of course I’ll also seek to write true sentences.

When reading A Pearl In The Storm, I was riveted, but it wasn’t just the writing style, but all of the many genres of writing that are encompassed in a memoir—or can be I should say. The biggest challenge for me will be fitting romance into a book about Faith-Based Public Relations, but in Pearl, Murden lays down the gauntlet as she quotes her uncle:

With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “A romance—it must be a romance.” He explained that I was too young to write my life as a history: “Who wants to read the history of half a life?” Tragedy, he explained was “boring.” Anyone over the age of thirty can write his or her life as a tear-soaked muddle. “There is no challenge in that,” my uncle counseled. “Comedies are fine, but the greatest stories in life are about romance.” (p. 8)

Maybe romance can find a way into my non-fiction book on public relations. It sure did find its way into my life. Stay tuned for more.

Blog 8 - Danielle Swanson - Relationships, relationships, relationships

At the beginning of the semester, I wrote, "As a writer, I think my most important habit is to read, and it's one I stick to daily." I still think this and have continued to read all summer. From reading, I learn so much and Beach Reading has expanded my knowledge simply by allowing me to enter the worlds of these works.

This class has forced me to read books that are outside of my norm; a majority of these books, I never would have picked up if they weren't required reading. Still, each of these books have taught me something. I have learned about writing interior thoughts, about sharing secrets, about creating unique settings from several of the works we read. I will never forget Olive Kitteredge and the way the short stories come together to paint a portrait of a character or Balram's tale and how a protagonist can change across the pages of a novel.

While each book has offered me something different to put in my writer's toolbox, consistently the books we have read have allowed a view into the interworkings of relationships in creative writing. We began the semester with the simple relationships of Hemingway and his fellow writers, each developed almost as an individual scene, worked our way through the lonliness of the sea, saw several disfunctional relationships, and finally landed on perhaps the greatest relationship book we have read this semester: the magical tale of a poor conceirge and a 12-year-old girl.

I was once told that some books are driven by plot and some are driven by characters. One of those two things has to be great in a book to keep readers turning the pages. Maybe this is true; however, I would argue that all books have to be driven by relationships. If a book does not have sturdy, true connections between its characters (or even between a character and him/herself) than the reader will not want to continue. Early on they will leave the book and will, perhaps, lose out on those great characters or that great plot.

While I may not have enjoyed every moment of reading these works, there is not one I can say I regret reading. I am appreciate what I have learned from them and hope that I can incorporate what I have learned about relationships into my own work, which already has several connections. I'm going to look back and make sure those relationships are developed the way they should be, the way the relationships were in the books we read this semester.