Inspired By JaZZzz ...Thursday's Children March 28, 2013

Improvisation. Spur of the moment. Music and rhythm.

That's where I find inspiration. And the topic for this week's Thursday's Children Blog hop hosted by Rhiann Wynn-Nolet / http://rhiannwynnnolet.com/ and Kristina Perez http://www.kristinaperez.com/

Hop on. Take the tour and be inspired! Then get to work and write.

I host a weekly Open Vocal and Jam Session at Zinc Bar in NYC for the last two years. It started as a crawl and eventually grew into a very busy Thursday evening. I didn't know what I was getting into at the start, but to all of our delight it has grown into a invaluable source for Jazz vocalists to use for performance practice and get their voices out there. Or prepare for an upcoming gig, whether a seasoned singer or just stretching their wings.

And I created it. *pats back*

As a vocalist you must always find your own musicians and be prepared to pay them, either for rehearsals, or for gigs. Gigs are easier, since there's usually money to dole out. But not always, I know several singers and instrumentalists who still play for dinner and tips. Or dinner--or tips. Not an easy road for a musician after years and years of study.

I was happy to have a place to screw up my lyrics, a place to nurture others, and allow my own improvisational skills shine ...and this,  is a lot like writing.

Writers take prompts or cues, and inspiration and weave the threads into a narrative. A vocalist does this with music, on the spur of the moment with LOTS of people watching.

I feel this is very good preparation for my writing. Certainly for a rough draft--slinging it out there. Finding the rhythm--even in the revision process.

Rhythm is very important to me in books. Sometime I read a story out loud to my boys, and if the rhythm in the writing isn't there it glottises my throat. It almost closes up and I feel like I'm choking. Some books I read aloud flow, like cream over a dream, lulling me into a tapestry of sound and images. These are my favorites. This is why it's so important to read your work out loud. You'll know.
Humans are so clued into rhythm, it's older than history (unless you're on of those people who are always late).  o.^

Music and Rhythm...rhythm and life.  You might even check out an earlier post of mine HOWL, Ginsberg and Poetry. Mr. Ginsberg knew Jazz and writing went together. http://www.karenleehallam.com/2013/01/howl-ginsberg-poetry-and-me.html

If you'd like to hear me sing a tune:  The Man I Love.   Happy Thursday's Children to you all.

Spin around and visit the others in the Hop...and be inspired.
http://www.linkytools.com/wordpress_list.aspx?id=190621&type=basic

Thursday's Children March 14, 2013

A weekly blog hop where writers come together to talk about whatever inspires them. Join us!

This blog hop is about how we find inspiration as writers. A special thanks, to Rhiann Wynn-Nolet http://rhiannwynnnolet.com/ and  Jessica Fleck http://jessikafleck.blogspot.com/ for Thursday’s Children Blog Hop. See the linkey below and hop on. Or take a tour of the other inspiring stories with Thursday’s Children bloggers.

Well, and this may sound a little perverse, but after coming down with a nasty bronchitis last week, I realized a VERY important inspiration --and that is BEING HEALTHY!  It’s always more apparent after being sick, unable to do ANYTHING except stare at the walls, to remind you of how much you value your health. 

Maybe it was a good thing that my usually over active mind was numbed down, because I had energy for nothing--barely able to visualize. It could have been extremely frustrating. So I used this time as a deep meditation. I did read one book at the onset, that I Loved: CODE NAME: VERITY (thought I’d read more). This incredible story gave me a lot to dream about before the malaise overwhelmed me. When I became the staring Zombie. 

Being Healthy after infirmary is inspiring, and for me, creates a frenzy of ambition. All the things neglected come to the forefront, and I want to accomplish them all in a hurry.  

I must pace myself though, or risk collapsing/stressing/suppressing my immune system again—did I not learn my lesson. 

As a dear old friend’s mother, who survived Auschwitz said to me, “if you have your health, you have everything.”

Words to live by.

To your health! 

I sure needed a brain. 

**Be sure to visit the blog hop participants Thursday's Children

Inspiration from Mysterious places. 

First, I want to thank Rhiann Wynn-Nolet for organizing this weekly--yes, weekly blog hop. If you'd like to join us, head over to Nest Of Words for linky and information.

Two weeks ago, when I decided to hitch a ride and wrote my first blog hop post about where/how I find inspiration, I thought, inspiration can come from so many, many things, ideas, smells, emotions, and just anything that moves you or moves passed you.

So after posting about my first inspiration, which was characters, other ideas floated to the surface, I could see why Thursday's Children needed a weekly blog about inspiration.

We all know, the "flow" is unleashed in a myriad of ways. Here's my #2, although I don't think my inspiration is in any type of order. Muses live in another dimension after all.

I LOVE speculative fiction, especially when it crosses over into "news". Maybe some would call this conspiracy theory. So what.
I'm writing fiction.

Give me flying Blue Beam projects or lights caught in outer space via NASA, or something like this: Mysterious Purple Spheres Found in Desert.

It almost doesn't matter what these "really" are. I can conjecture them into my pages and take flight. I can make them anything my imagination might design.

Or try this one: Klerksdorp spheres  "Roelf Marx, curator of the museum of Klerksdorp, South Africa, where some of the spheres are housed, said: 'The spheres are a complete mystery. They look man-made, yet at the time in Earth's history when they came to rest in this rock no intelligent life existed."   

 Yeah, this is the stuff I drool over.  If you'd like to read more here's a link to get you started https://www.forbiddenhistory.info/?q=node/26  

There's even a Wiki link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Klerksdorp_sphere     
Come on. If Wikipedia lists it, it must be true. Right? Again, for my purposes, it's not necessary. I'll move the story into fiction and make sure my characters are real.

Klerksdorp Spheres

Maybe we could try a little writing prompt with one of these mysteries. I will. 

I keep an "X-file" for all of my speculations. When I need a CR-A-ZZzY idea, that's where you'll find me. 
Until the next Thursday's Children Hop.... 
Make sure to visit my writing buddies in the hop. They're pretty inspiring, too. 

Linky:

Thursday's Children Blog Hop

How do I find inspiration? How do I not?         

I'm in constant flow of ideas, which are often met with the frustration of having my hands tied. Or my mind riddled with something else while the muse waits, and waits, until…

a) I write the notes in my notebook. b) I get right down to business. Or, c) I multi-task with projects spread around, carelessly completed.

Not always carelessly, but that's how it feels. I try and slow down, but time flies, and I have children! Not young children, worse--young teen-age boys! And they need more help than they must have needed as toddlers. I swear.

But what inspires me to write?  That is what this Blog Hop is about. I would say above all—it is PEOPLE! The Characters, shady ones, unusual traits, hidden kindness, overt cruelty, or Joe Shmo, who I turn into a Wizard on the page.

I played with Barbie’s well into the age of thirteen. Of course, I realize why, now. It was the dramatization of the characters I craved. When we moved from Cocoa Beach to Key West, I was only permitted to bring the most essential. I figured it was a good time to drop the Barbie dolls. I sure did miss them. But by writing fiction, I can still pretend and make-believe.

And having fun inspires me all the time.

A weekly blog hop where writers come together to talk about whatever inspires them. Join us!

   

HOWL, Ginsberg, Poetry, and Me

Last night I watched HOWL, the biopic about Allen Ginsberg on Netflix and was completely inspired. My poetry has been on hiatus since focusing on writing fiction for kids. I’ve sporadically written some poetry, particularly when there isn’t much time for writing anything else. 

HOWL reminded me of my brush with Allen Ginsberg and the Beat Poets when I lived at 437 East 12street in 1989; where late one night, the howls of Ginsberg’s love Peter Orlovsky meet with the ambulance siren on the street, while my radio simultaneously reiterated the Beat generation's poetry. It was surreal. I thought messages were being sent to me—I always think I’m on the receiving line of some great truth.

I was a spunky twenty-something in 1989. It’s no wonder the apartment on east 12 street is where I began typing (on a rotary typewriter) in my attempt at writing fiction.

I had been writing poetry, lots and lots of poetry, for years. My earliest novella, at twelve, was taken by the school bus driver and never seen again.

Let’s say, it was the vibe of the building, which I barely understood at the time. But the frequent Beat messages poured unto me from all over and surrounded me. There were other poets in the building, and literary luminaries coming and going.

Edith Ginsberg, Cliff Fyman, Bob Rosenthal, Allen Ginsberg, John Godfey, Steven Taylor, Peter Orlovsky, Greg Masters, Michael Scholnick, in front of 437 E. 12th St., where all except Edith lived. Nov. 14, 1982. 

One day a man with black straggly hair knocked on my apartment door, and said his name was Richard Hell; he loved the music I was playing, said everyone should hear it. He ordered me to turn the music up--way up. The music was The Dead Can Dance.

Soon before I moved out of the building, I found a treasury of books that I was sure belonged to Allen Ginsberg, and he had put the books in a box on my floor—the second floor, just for me: Ken Kesey, George Bernard Shaw, Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath; books on philosophy, theosophy--so many, which I still have. I knew (or made believe) they once belonged to the Great Ginsberg, and he gave them to me--as a beacon, a glimpse of my path, as I imagined that I was meant to write.
Oh, to sweet dreams. 

Poetry for me was fast and quick, I could go anywhere with it. Instant gratification. Who knew, I would love the long haul of novel writing: the years of commitment, the revisions, the draft; the world I could paint with words. 

I’ve had little time lately to revise my WIP #3 –but with Poetry, I can keep my fingers greased and my mind fluid, so I won’t feel locked out of my world of fiction.

Today, I made the promise to myself to write one Blog entry before beginning this workday. What do you write when you can’t dig in to your novel?

My apt was on the second floor to the right of entrance. Inspiring times.

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2013, 2013, 2013

I'm starting off the New Year with more responsibilities and this leaves me terrified.

What if I can't find time for writing? What if I'm too tired and my brain won't function at lightning speed through my rough draft stage?

I am used to change, though change can be frightening, it's a useful tool for restructuring.

It turns out that I'm the type of person who works well will a lot of plates spinning. I find pockets of time to read CP's work, or study writing craft, and read in my genre and out of my genre. Fifteen minutes, here...ten there. I complain to my kids, and ask why they can't make a little "pocket" for reading. I have two reluctant tween readers, who are also delightful, wildly surprising sons. They do occasionally surprise me, like when I found one of them hiding in a corner with THE ZOMBIE SURVIVAL GUIDE and a look of guilt, as if he was caught with a plate of cookies, and didn't want to share. He finally got his own copy of this book--because no one at his school was giving over theirs.

I think I'm going to change my vocabulary. Instead of this uncertainty painting a bleak, worse case probability, I will say:  challenge, excitement, challenge...okay, I need other positive reinforcing words to compete against -- terrified, nervous, anxious.  After all it's only what I love. My passion. The one thing that makes time disappear. WRITING is the only life for me. (to the Green Acres tune)

How do you, busy writers with more than one job, make time for writing?  
I am going to write, no matter WHAT!  -even if it takes the place of eating.

 2013 May you find the time for all you LOVE...HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

This is how I feel when making time for writing. This applies for revisions as well--right?

"And You Are...?" Blog Hop

Swinging into the Blog Hop. Hope I'm not too late for the Par-tay!

hosted by Tammy Theriant  http://tammybr2.blogspot.com/
and Emily R. King http://getbusywriting.blogspot.com/2012/12/and-you-are.html

I'm hoping for some goodies from Santa. Click Dave, over there and read the other participant's Blog interviews. They're hilarious! Eeps--Davis is broken. To read the other Blogs click on Emily R. King's link above--that'll take you to the hub.

1. How many tickets have you gotten?  One, when speeding home from the Catskills in my Robo Cop car that didn't have a catalytic converter. Think I was racing home to my dog. I don't drive very often living in NYC. And when I do, I prefer to watch the scene pass, you never know where an idea may stem from.

2. Can you pitch a tent? Of course, I can read, can't I?

3. What was your worst vacation ever? I don't think I've ever had a "bad" vacation. There have been challenging ones. Like when I traveled the islands of Greece, only expecting good food, and it was Lent and the coldest Spring ever. Even the fishermen weren't out.

4. What was the last thing you ever bought over $100? Um? maybe a pair of boots? But it could of been the electric company? Oh no- it was definitely the grocery.

5. We're handing you the keys to what? A Beach house! Yay! Thank you SO much. Or a solar power Volkswagon Karmann Ghia. I hate choosing!

6. What was the last meal you cooked that made even you sick?  Sick? I burn everything. I cook a lot of goood food, but I don't eat it if it's been too burned.

7. Fill in the blank: Oh my gosh! Becky, look at her butt! It is so big. She looks like a
backwards Kangaroo.

8. What was your first car?  A 1985 red Nissan Sentra. In college, my dorm buddies and I called it the KIT car, not sure exactly why, though.We had many adventures in this baby, across state lines. 
Almost forgot all about her. Here's what she looked like --spittin' image. 

9. Your best friend falls and gets hurt. Do you ask if he/she's okay or laugh first?  I'd check my besties condition and how she feels--was it a cool acrobatic descent, or is she crying...

10.  What's the worst song ever?  Dude Looks like a Lady--think I heard that one this morning. That's drop everything and turn the channel kind of song. There are MANY these days.


Dear Santa, I've been a Very good girl, most of the time.