Yay for the Builders!

 

It’s been a rough four years for us all.  One of the many effects it’s had on me is to quash—or, I guess more accurately, redirect—my creativity. 

Before November 2016, I had written two books and almost a third in my Wyoming Chronicles series.  These are YA novels, British classics set in contemporary Wyoming. So fun to write! I’d written Moreau (The Island of Dr. Moreau) and Pride (Pride and Prejudice) and almost finished Solomon (King Solomon’s Mines).  But the same week as the election, which devastated me and so many others and caused a bit of a mental breakdown, I also got this series rejected by traditional publishing for the final time.

I quit writing.  I hardly had the emotional energy to make it through the day, much less write.  I think I listened to the same comfort music (Vince Guaraldi’s Charlie Brown Christmas) for a year straight. 

Only in the last year have I started to come out of it.  Like everyone, when the pandemic hit, I began to cook a lot. I’ve always cooked a lot because I love it, and I’m a good cook.  It’s something I love and something I’ve devoted a lot of time to.  I’m always trying new recipes from NYT Cooking or WaPo Voraciously or EatingWell. 

I also dove head first back into science fiction.  I’ve always loved science fiction.  Ever since reading so much of it as a teenager—my brother had a subscription to Science Fiction Book Club—I have loved it.  But I focused on literary fiction for much of my adult years, though I’ve always been an avid sci fi movie buff.  (The Expanse ROCKS!)  And as part of that, I thought I’d try my hand at writing a science fiction novel. The result of that is the first book in my Mechalum Space series, The Language of Corpses.

The first step in creating my universe was to create a future history. Oh my gosh, I can’t tell you how fun that is and was!  Thinking through, okay, here’s where we are today, and here’s where that technology is going to take us in 700 years.  The rabbitholes I went down figuring it all out.  So amazing.  So fun.  Absolutely the best!

We are living in a science fiction universe.  All those things you’ve read about as possibilities are coming true.  Just this week, we’re landing again on Mars and moving toward a permanent base on the Moon.  Scientists on CERN are getting closer to understanding hydrogen antimatter, and they announced findings just this week.  We will land humans on Mars in fifteen or twenty years, and we will be able upload our consciousness into computer in thirty. Seriously.  Not just in fiction or in theory.  In my lifetime.

And of course the adults are in charge again. The forces of chaos and hate are at least going underground, and hopefully the solutions offered by builders as opposed to destroyers—I told you we were living in a science fictional universe—will help enough people to turn them away from extremism.

It’s been the best of times. It’s been the worst of times. As they say.  I am so lucky. I can work from home, which I never would have been able to do without the pandemic. I am able to help my teenagers do their school from home.  My partner and I kept our jobs.  We have options.  We are so so lucky. 

So I’m thankful.  I’m still going through deep-but-functional depression, but I’m clawing my way to creativity again.  I don’t think I’m alone in this.

Science fiction has saved me again, as it did when I was a teenager.  So, if you’re so inclined, check out my other blog and my book, The Language of Corpses, if you’d like. Follow me on Twitter at @tt_linse.  I’m deep in writing the second one in the series, The Evolution of Corpses.  And stay tuned here.  I’ll be trying to blog once a week on my other blog about sci fi and here about other things.

My heart goes out to you and your loved ones. We’re all going through such a tough time.  I love you!

Blogging, as a Sign of Recovery

 

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

Ain’t that the truth? But I feel like I’ve recovered a little. You?

Anyway, I’m going to try to put up at least one blog post a week here and on my other blog. (http://tamara-linse.blogspot.com/, https://www.ttlinse.io/blog/).

Stay tuned!

Live Life Deliberately

I went into myself because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

'I don't feel very much like Pooh today'

"I don't feel very much like Pooh today," said Pooh.

"There, there," said Piglet.  "I'll bring you tea and honey until you do."

Ideas Catching Fire

Oh my god, oh my god!! I just came up with the greatest idea for a novel!! A series, actually!  It’s called The Moshfeigh.  Oh, I could just bury my head in this idea and not come up for months. I don’t want to say much about it other than it’s science fiction and it's very Ursula Le Guin-esque. Lush world, competing idealogies, one insignificant being must save her species from subjugation. Lots of social and political intrigue. Hmmmm. 

I’m at the exciting world-building stage that’s in some ways the very best! Because you haven’t had to do any hard work yet, just play play play.

One itsy-bitsy problem: I have at least five book ideas ahead of this one. Two in my Wyoming Chronicles series, two in the Round Earth series, and a memoir. And why oh why do I always think in series?

You heard it here first, folks. Let's see which idea wins out ...

Despair to Optimism

As I’ve mentioned before, I have long cycle manic depression. Not diagnosed or anything, but every 3 months or so I cycle from optimism to despair.  In the despair phase, I feel like I totally suck. It’s hard to get anything creative done, because, you know, what’s the point? In the optimism phase, I’m manic, I’m going, I’m a creative fireball.

I’m not way out there. In optimism, I’m not unreasonably manic. I’m just upbeat and motivated and getting a lot done.  In despair, I’m not suicidal (usually).  I’m just reamed out, empty.

And, at the moment, I’m transitioning from despair to optimism. Could you tell? By the fact that I’m blogging? 

Something that happens, which I always notice on this part of the cycle, is that I turn outward.  My mind and emotions are no longer a hamster on the wheel. Instead, projects come toward me like road signs and I follow them and everything starts to hum along.  I notice how absolutely fabulous it feels to create and to put things out there. Who cares if these victories are tiny ~ publishing a blog post, posting a photo for photo-a-day, having a meaningful exchange on Facebook with another writer. 

But, the thing is, because I open up and start saying YES to the universe, good things come my way.  A friend recently sent on a call for a writing opportunity, and I followed up.  Had I been in the depths of despair, I would have let it pass. But since I’m revving up, I took it and followed up. And I got the assignment! 

It would be so easy to say, “Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps, girl! It’s all in your power to control. Why don’t you just be optimistic all the time?” Well, as many of you know, it’s not that easy.  It’s also a subtle way of blaming the victim. “It’s your own damn fault you’re depressed. If you’d just eat better/get some work done/focus, it’d all go away.” Riiiiiight. 

A lot of the time I can white knuckle it.  I can force myself to get things done. At least get up in the morning and get dinner on the table. But, sometimes, I just can’t. It takes more emotional energy and courage than I possess. 

But when I’m on, man oh man. One of my most recent novels I wrote start-to-finish in two months. TWO MONTHS. 

At least I’ve learned moderation in my habits (thanks in part to my supportive husband). That makes the lows less low and the highs more sustained. When I was a teenager and knew nothing about moderation, it was all lows, pretty much. 

But really what I wanted to say was that CREATIVITY ROCKS!!  Nothing beats the feeling of things coming out of your brain and body and into being. Nothing.  It’s manna from heaven! 

Slow TV

Feeling rushed?  Try some slow TV.  Watch the complete train trip from Bergen to Oslo, Norway.  All 7 hours, 14 minutes, and 13 seconds. No car crashes, just rolling countryside.  I love the idea!!

The World Is an Alien Place

You know, if you really think about it, the world is an alien place.

We go through our days living inside our heads and bodies and rarely really look at things or think about things. 

Or maybe I should speak for myself:  I go through my days living inside my head and body and rarely really look at things or think about things. 

But if you take a moment to observe and to question, or to do some research, you realize that the world is fantastic, and truth is stranger than fiction.

I mean, you could spend your whole life just reading about and figuring things out about the world. It’s truly amazing.

I remember realizing, when I came to college, that I truly could be anything and that anything I wanted to learn was literally right there within my grasp in the library. Now it’s on the internet, the whole world of knowledge.

It made me want to scream with excitement and possibility.

The world would be a better place of everyone wanted to scream with excitement and possibility.

Hot Pork Sandwiches As a Metaphor for Life

I made hot pork roast sandwiches for supper tonight.  You know the ones?  You take leftover pork roast, slice it thinly. You chop some more pork into small pieces and fry it and make a nice pork gravy out of the fried pork, chicken stock, and corn starch to thicken. Then you serve it by layering a slice of bread, a piece of pork, and hot pork gravy.  It’s yummy and easy and comfort food.

If I’d really been doing it right, I would have made homemade mashed potatoes, but I was running late on time.  So just fresh sliced apples and steamed broccoli with lemon pepper on the side and some pickles.

It’s funny how everyone has their own system for eating.  Some people eat out all the time. Some people only eat homemade. Some people favor lots of cheese and cream. Some people favor veggies.  I lean toward unprocessed homemade food. Sure, on a week when we’re running late to everything, we’ll grab something at Wendy’s or nuke a frozen dinner, but in general I try to make something homemade.

I have lots of shortcuts.  For breakfast, I buy sausages and cook them all slightly underdone and then freeze them so that they can be nuked to warm for breakfast.  They’re better than the ones you buy already cooked.  I make a parfait by layering fruit and yogurt and cereal or chocolate chips. We have bagels and cream cheese or toast with butter and toppings.

Dinners, I try to have all 4 or 5 food groups: a protein, a veg, a fruit, a grain, and milk. So I’ll roast or crockpot or time-bake some meat of some kind, I’ll steam some veggies, we’ll have bread and butter or I’ll timer some rice, and I’ll chop up some fresh fruit.

I guess my yen is for unprocessed stuff.   I used to go way in for strange diets when it was just myself, and it wasn’t until we had kids that I got serious about trying to balance everything. It seems to be working. The kids, so far, have maintained a healthy weight, fights about food are fairly minimal, and they try new stuff.

Things that surprise me. My son loves blue cheese and tomatoes. My daughter loves corned beef and cabbage.

One of the things that got me thinking about this is that I’m much more thoughtful about my kids food than my own.  It’s easier for me to help them be healthy than it is to make myself healthy, due to the half-hazard way I was raised.  I was thinking recently that I should think of myself as  a third person. That way, I might be able to treat myself better than I would otherwise.  Think of myself in the third person. 

And all this is a metaphor for my writing.  I can’t seem to convince myself I’m worth it, either in food or writing. Something to work on, for sure.

As Robert Goolrick says, “If you don’t receive love from the ones who are meant to love you, you will never stop looking for it.” 

Exciting Things on the Horizon!

I've been absent here for a while. It's because of a combination of, first, being down but then, second, I was actually getting some writing done!

I'm trying not to stare into the face of the beast too much.  You know, spend too much time online gazing at my and others' navels. Don't get me wrong ~ I love myself a good navel gaze, but it seems to contribute to my depression sometimes, and so I have to look away.

I have to look inside because that's where I need to be to get the writing done. And, boy oh boy, I've been getting some really great writing done! I won't say too much about it right now, other than it's YA, but let me tell you, I got the best reviews from my kids.  My daughter said, "It's just like Percy Jackson!" and my son said, "I don't like it ~ I LOVE it!" Of course they would say that, but it warms my heart to the cockles!

So let me just say, wonderful things coming down the pike. I'll fill you in once I know more.

Happy writing!

War Is Mass Delusion

Via the Atlantic

I was thinking this weekend about war and about the rhetoric around war vs. the real reasons we go to war.

It started from a thoughtful post on Facebook friend Stephan Heard’s wall:

I just came to a startling conclusion about how I perceive delusions to work: Namely, the idea that the delusional thinking itself is safe: It is a withdrawal into the creative spaces and processes of the mind, where thought is beautifully free-flowing and the mind can conceive of alternate realities conceptual in nature, imagining things otherwise difficult to apprehend ... The struggle being that delusions cannot ultimately seem to exist outside of the consequences that occur via the delusions, nor can the delusions easily substitute for the goals and tasks a person has and can only seem to achieve though standard rationality and purposeful action. Where, then, and at what point, do the delusions become so disconnected from reality that they cease to be connected to the real world whilst yet simultaneously guiding action that exists in the real world, ultimately leading to the conflict that it leads to?

Delusions in general, while not causing harm except in bizarre situations, are dangerous, and that is what makes them so valuable, but is undermined by the traditional ways we are conditioned to think ...

I responded:

Great observation. I think it depends on the delusion. (I have relatives who believe we're descended from aliens.) I think delusion is a necessary part of the writer's process. A writer has to believe both that what he or she has to say is important and worth listening to - a certain brand of hubris - but simultaneously he or she often believes that they are worthless, and this is a driving factor in getting work done. It also takes a certain amount of delusional thinking when you start a novel - "Yes, I can write 100,000 words!" We could also talk about how war and religion are delusional and harmful, but that's a much bigger subject.

PS And I agree that delusions inside the head by themselves are harmful, even without considering resulting actions.

A delusion is an idiosyncratic belief that is firmly maintained despite being contradicted by reality or rational argument.

What do we say about war?  It’s necessary. It’ll bring peace. We’re just doing it for noble reasons.  Death is a necessary cost of political interest ~ to bring democracy to the unwashed heathens. That it’s for the best.

Why do we really go to war?  Commercial interests. Political interests. Too many young men at loose ends challenging the establishment, so let’s have a draft (both the Crusades and Vietnam and probably many other wars). Because we have all this confusing and subtle frustration in our daily lives that has to be focused somewhere, and we think if life were only black and white, if we had a goal, if there was an enemy to fight, we’d have a place to release all this anger and hate.

To be sure, many of the men and women who fight in wars are doing it for the noble reasons. They risk their lives because they believe in God and country and that they are sacrificing themselves for the greater good.  This is an amazing thing.  A very laudible, if misplaced, thing. But many soldiers (I’m not trying to speak for them, of course, but I’ve read it time and again) get over there ~ wherever there is ~ and quickly become disillusioned.

But we lie to each other.  We baldfaced lie. Since it usually isn’t us or our loved ones who pay the price, it doesn’t touch us.  It’s like cheating on you diet ~ oh, I’m making myself feel better ~ but every time you take a bite, someone dies. It’s like passing a law that doesn’t do anything but make yourself feel better, but every time, a country is invaded.

War ~ an idiosyncratic belief that is firmly maintained despite being contradicted by reality or rational argument.

Humans are capable of such vast and unimaginable horror.

What’s Next?

(via)

Generally, on the Friday following a book release, I talk about what’s coming next.

This is both easy and hard because on one hand I know exactly what I’m working on but I’m not sure when I’ll have them completed. First I’ll tell you why, and then I’ll tell you about the cool projects I’m working on.

This is the why.  I’ve gone through a long period of writers block that’s severely shaken my confidence.  I couldn’t seem to make myself make any progress at all.  Many reasons behind it, but I was pretty despairing for a long time.  Will I ever write again?  Should I just give up?  This is fodder for a longer post, but suffice it to say I’m once again facing the blank page—and actually writing.

To get myself back into my writing, I’ve been working on a middle grade chapter book called The Adventures of Opal the Hounddog.  So much fun!  My daughter was very distressed when she found out I killed the dog in Earth’s Imagined Corners.  I told her I hadn’t actually killed her ~ she just disappears in a flood. My daughter then insisted I resurrect Opal and that she live a long and happy life.  And so that’s what I’m doing, and it’s a blast.  Opal swims out of the flood, gets attacked by a bear, befriends an elephant, and then joins the circus. I’m also going to do some illustrations.

I’ve also started working on a book of essays called Stand In Your Truth.  These are very much for me at this point.  I feel like I have to write these in order to break myself out of the depths of whatever it is I’ve been in. They most likely will never see the light of publication.

Once I get through with Opal, which shouldn’t be but a week or two, I’ll get back to writing my young adult series called Wyoming Chronicles. It’s British classics set in contemporary Wyoming, with a girls' and a boys' version. The first girls’ book is Pride set in Jackson Hole, which is based on Pride and Prejudice.  The first boys’ book is Moreau set in the Hole in the Wall, which is based on The Island of Dr. Moreau. This is so much fun to write!  Young adult rocks.

Then I also have the sequel to Earth’s Imagined Corners coming up.  It’s called Numberless Infinities, and it follows Sara and James out across the Nebraska prairies supplying ties for the railroad and ends at the Massacre at Wounded Knee.  It won’t be ready for the next January publication, as originally predicted, but what you going to do? Keep plugging away.

And then I’m also working on my photography projects, and I might put together a photo book.  I also have been doing some artwork and would love to illustrate the two children’s books I’ve written ~ A Blush, a Giggle, a Smack and ZoLilly and the Feeling of Impending Doom.

I’ve always been one to have way more ideas than I could possibly follow through on!

What Went Into the Sausage?

So, you're curious about Deep Down Things?  What went into it?  Here is my letter to the reader that talks about what went into the writing of it.  It was a long and arduous process, let me tell, with many doubts along the way. But I'm very proud of the result. And as you know, it's just out in audiobook, read by the lovely and amazing P. J. Morgan.

Dear Reader,

Oh, what I wouldn’t have given to be able to give Maggie a happy ending, to have Jes grow into a happy and healthy young man whose only scars are those left by his troubled father. It wasn’t to be, however. The logic of the story inexorably pulled me to where it ended.

That’s not entirely true. The first ending actually had Jackdaw successfully shooting Jes and then killing himself. So maybe I did pull back a little—at the behest of an editor friend. The conversation went something like this. “The ending is too unremittingly dark.” “But Jes has to die. Otherwise no one will buy it.” “Yes, but does his father have to kill him? AND THEN commit suicide?” Point taken. That same friend said she bawled in public in NYC at least four times while reading it. Now THAT is a compliment.

The inspiration for this story is a friend and coworker who is one of those ideal mothers. If I could have chosen to have any mother in the world, she would have been at the top of my list. She had two boys, and then her third boy was born with severe spina bifida. Watching what she went through was heart-wrenching. When I decided to write this book, a few years after the darling boy had died at age 6, we sat and talked through what at happened. She said that most people act like it never happened and so it was good to talk about it. I hope so, and I hope I’ve in some small way been able to honor what she went through.

Another inspiration for this story is my history of infertility. My mother had seven kids including me, and one of my sisters had seven, and so I never considered that I would have problems having children. Then, my husband and I had five miscarriages, the first at six months. The medical rigamarole that ensued was awful. I’m so glad for it though, because we were able to have our happy ending. A wonderful amazing woman—whom I’d trust almost more than I’d trust myself—acted as gestational carrier for us, and our twins were born. Our son was born with a severe cleft lip and palate, and so that was more medical procedures that we went through. As much as we’ve been through, though, I can’t express how thankful I am to medical science and the wonderful doctors who made it all possible.

The first scene I wrote, I was actually staying in a residential hotel in Denver undergoing IVF procedure for the twins. All those shots. That was August 2005. The first scene I wrote was where Maggie walks into the room and Jes just lights up. He makes her feel wonderful, despite everything, just by the way he beams at her. I finished a first draft by June 2009. I remember because I completed it for a Tin House writers conference mentorship with the legendary Little, Brown editor Judy Clain. The manuscript was an unqualified mess—four points of view with two timelines going concurrently. Bless Judy’s heart for first of all agreeing to do the mentorship and second of all giving me such great advice. Help your reader out. Chronological, chronological! More reflection to let the reader know what to take away from a scene. Her talking with me was simply the best encouragement I could have had.

So I went back and majorly rewrote it. Because of the nature of how I’d written it—two timelines—the beginning and the end was basically written and I had to write through the middle. An odd experience, to say the least, but a good one. It shaped up nicely, although I distinctly remember having writers block and thinking, this is the most horrible thing I’ve ever read. I do that when I write—I go through periods of loving the work and then hating it. Especially when I’m not writing, I think about all the flaws.

Having four points of view presented its own challenges. If you have a point of view, you have to have a character arc. Something has to happen to that person. They have to change. And therefore all the stories have to be coherent in their own right, yet they have to meld together into this unified whole. “Ambitious,” someone called it, and at the time I don’t think they meant it as a compliment. My initial inspiration for form was actually the movie Love Actually. I was fascinated with how that movie was able to have all those different story lines yet work. I love that movie. It strayed pretty far away, though, didn’t it? Another big inspiration was William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying, one of my favorite books. All those points of view tied together in a country setting. Believe it or not, I didn’t actually read Kent Haruf’s Plainsong till late in the writing process. Without knowing it, I had mirrored a lot of that wonderful book, and so when I did finally read it I was a bit thunderstruck.

I deliberately try to have all kinds of people in my books. I regret that I don’t have more diversity in this one, but I am glad I was able to have CJ work through her sexuality. Race and ethnicity and gender and sexuality are not binaries—they exist much more on a spectrum—and I find myself continually fascinated with the complexities of these subjects.

Finally, though I hesitate to bring it up, I often have an extended metaphor or theme that I’m thinking of when I write a story or a novel. In the case of Deep Down Things, it’s the story of Jesus. Many readers would not pick up on it, I think, but Jes’s story riffs on it with details large and small. I’m a spiritual person—though I’m not a religious one—and the ideas underlying the story of Jesus are complicated and compelling and timeless. Self-sacrifice, family relationships, being a good person—these all are just as relevant today as they ever were. And I find by using something like this as a framework, an extended metaphor, I can explore these subjects more deeply. I don’t think of this as a religious book or a Christian book, but I am very invested in the ideas that Christianity presents to us. I am happy, however, if this book helps someone affirm his or her faith or think more deeply about the issues presented.

My final confession is that the ending still makes me bawl like a baby. I don’t think writers are supposed to admit that.

– Tamara Linse, Laramie, Wyoming, 2014

If this interests you, here's where you can pick up the audiobook Deep Down Things.

Amazon.com

Audible.com

iTunes

P.J. Morgan, Fabulous Voiceover Artist

Don’t you just love meeting cool new people?

One such cool person is P.J. Morgan, the inimitable actor and voiceover artist.  Have we been working together for years now? Wow. 

What so much impressed me about P.J., from the very beginning, was the amount of thought and “character” she puts into her characters. And by that, I don’t mean over-the-top radio schmaltz.  I mean, she figures out the author’s intent for the character and she does it in an excellent way that even the author didn’t think possible.  My characters needed to be understated laconic western people, and she nailed it. You know how how authors have ideal readers? Well, P.J. is my ideal reader in another way.

I am so thankful to P.J. for putting so much thought into the voicing of the four points of view in Deep Down Things. 

Here is an interview P.J. and I did a while back.

What’s an interesting thing people don’t know about you?

Hmm, good question! I've probably only told one or two people in my life that one of my dream stage roles is Mary Poppins. There's just something so whimsical and powerful and enigmatic about her character. The great music doesn't hurt, either!

Where did you grow up?  What were you like as a kid?

I grew up in a little town about a hundred miles south of San Francisco, right on the ocean. I was very much enamoured of storytelling from a very young age. I read voraciously, and had many imaginary worlds I inhabited at play time. I wrote my own short (and often unfinished) tales, and everything was an opportunity for me to make-believe I was living some other life. I was quirky and a dreamer and full of crazy ideas that no one else thought were very funny. I guess not much has changed. ;) My sister and I made a pact that someday we'd create our own cartoon show, where she animated and I did the voices. She got her degree in animation, and here I am as a voice talent, so I think it's time we got to work on that dream!

Your degree is in linguistics and phonetics. Wow!  Tell us about that.  Why did you choose that?

My favourite subject in school was always foreign language. I absorbed language books as quickly as I could, reading about ancient and modern Greek, Mandarin, German, etc. before they even started us on Spanish in school. I was just fascinated with other languages - the way they sounded, the mystery of them, how the sounds felt in my mouth, whether people who spoke another language still thought in English (yes, I really had to wrap my mind around that one as a kid!). Linguistics was just a natural fit in college. My favourite subject was Phonetics, particularly the articulatory branch, which looks at how speech sounds are actually produced in the vocal tract.

Who’s your favorite linguistic theorist and why? (I was pretty taken with Saussure.)

I'm going to kind of cheat on this one and talk about my favourite linguistic phenomenon, though I did indeed enjoy learning about Saussure! The one thing that stuck with me the most from my undergraduate studies was the study done by McGurk et al. in the 1970s (about the McGurk effect), and shed some light on how important visual cues are to speech perception. We tend to think that most of verbal communication is auditory, when in fact most people rely heavily on visual input to make sense of what another person is saying. This is why many people are so uncomfortable on the phone, where those visual cues are missing. As a voice actor, this is a very interesting thing to think about, especially when narrating audiobooks. You have to use your voice to convey so many things - emotion, tone, action, setting, on top of enunciating in a way that is intelligible, without sounding stilted, and still tell a story in a way that a listener can easily understand and stay connected with.

You’ve done a lot of fabulous things ~ acting, voice acting, puppets, and writing.  What do you think those have in common and why are you drawn to them?

The underlying thread for me is storytelling. There's a bit of it in everything I do. I love to bring others' stories to life, as well as tell my own. Each medium has a slightly different appeal, but I've never been able to decide which one I like best. I hope to keep doing all of them throughout my life. Storytelling for me is one of the ultimate acts of creation, and an essential part of what it means to be human.

Do you have an origin story?  In other words, can you think about something that happened in your childhood that fundamentally shaped who you are and what you do?

My mom taught me to read and write when I was three, by having me narrate and then trace the letters of a story about my stuffed toy mule. She also read to me before bed every night - The Hobbit and James Herriot come to mind - and instilled in me a great love for words and stories. I've never been able to stop reading and writing since unlocking that magic.

Talk about creating How to Be a Man (the previous book of mine she voiced). What were your first impressions? What did you enjoy about it?  What challenged you?

I'm fascinated by gender roles and norms - how they've changed, how we obey and break them, the effect they have on people and their relationships with others. I stumbled on the synopsis for How to Be a Man while shopping for a project on ACX, and bookmarked it for about a week. I had only done public domain work for the past five years, since leaving my job where I worked with a lot of commercial voiceover, so I wasn't sure how I would fare in the realm of commercial narration. How to Be a Man seemed like a project that would keep me interested through the long hours of recording and editing, and that maybe needed a voice more like mine, instead of the seductive, sometimes over-the-top tones of many commercial voice talents. I submitted an audition on a whim one night, and was completely overjoyed to find a recording contract in my inbox not long after. I really enjoyed the long, intimate evenings spent huddled in my recording booth with the manuscript, getting to know the characters inside and out and connecting with them and what they were saying. I loved the diversity of the stories, and how each one took me to a different place. I found by reading them aloud, they came to life for me in a way that stories don't always do when read silently off the page. The biggest challenge was probably having to edit all that audio! For each finished hour, it takes between six to ten hours of work. I learned a lot of tricks in the process to speed things up, but it was a real process! I've certainly come out the other side a much more proficient audio editor, though.

You’re a writer too.  What do you write?

Most of my writing is done every November during National Novel Writing Month. Writing sadly slips to the back burner for me all too often, with all my audiobook, theatre, and film projects. It's still such a driving force in me that I keep returning to it, though. When I'm not penning a novel in thirty days (or making half-hearted stabs at editing them), I also journal somewhat allegorically about my life through the adventures of a pirate lass named Captain Pen.

Finally, if someone wanted to get into voice acting, do you have any advice for them?

If you have an interest in narration in particular, I highly recommend Librivox (www.librivox.org). It's the audio book version of Project Gutenberg (an enormous digitised collection of public domain books at www.gutenberg.org). Volunteer readers from around the world narrate public domain books and put them up for free download in the catalogue. The wonderful thing about it is, anyone can sign up to read, regardless of experience. There are very active and helpful forums to help you get set up with a basic recording environment, learn how to read aloud, edit audio, produce it, etc. It was a wonderful and supportive place to get my feet wet. If you have any specific questions, I'm more than happy to help, as well. I'm on Twitter (https://twitter.com/listentopj), Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/authorpjmorgan), and at listentopj.com, where I hope to start some blog content soon about my adventures in the world of VO!

And if this post inspires you to check out P.J.'s work, here's where you can pick up Deep Down Things.

Amazon.com

Audible.com

iTunes

Audio Sample of 'Deep Down Things'

So you're a bit intrigued by the novel Deep Down Things?  You'd like a taste?  Click here to listen to the first part of P. J. Morgan's wonderful reading.

And if you like it, the full version is available here:

Amazon.com

Audible.com

iTunes

I hope it's a good listen!

Audiobook of 'Deep Down Things' Available Now!

Hello, Campers.

I wanted to officially announce the audiobook version of the novel Deep Down Things!

Here's a little about the novel.  It's an emotional roller coaster ride.

Deep Down Things, Tamara Linse's debut novel, is the emotionally riveting story of three siblings torn apart by a charismatic bullrider-turned-writer and the love that triumphs despite tragedy. From the death of her parents at 16, Maggie Jordan yearns for lost family while sister CJ drowns in alcohol and brother Tibs withdraws. When Maggie and an idealistic young writer named Jackdaw fall in love, she is certain that she's found what she's looking for. As she helps him write a novel, she gets pregnant, and they marry. But after Maggie gives birth to a darling boy, Jes, she struggles to cope with Jes' severe birth defect, while Jackdaw struggles to overcome writer's block brought on by memories of his abusive father.

I'm so excited about this ~ I can't tell you.  It's read by the inimitable P.J. Morgan. P.J. is this amazing voice actor who goes that extra mile.

P.J. has a bachelor's in linguistics, with an emphasis on phonetics. Speech sounds and language as both a phenomenon and a science fascinate her. She has many years of stage and screen experience and a love for the written word. She loves reading audiobooks, and using her voice to tell stories. She is also an author, working towards publication of her first novel and has done NaNoWriMo for many years. You can find her at listentopj.com or penelopejmorgan.com.

So this is my teaser-trailer post to the audiobook version. Later in the week, I'll post a snippet of P.J.'s wonderful rendition, I'll talk a little about P.J. and then about the four points of view in the novel and how she nailed it,  I'll talk a little about how the novel was written, and more.  I hope you enjoy it!

In the meantime, the audiobook is available here:

Amazon.com

Audible.com

iTunes

UW Summer High School Institute

In 1985, I was a high school sophomore, and I was honored to be invited to the very first Summer High School Institute at the University of Wyoming.  I can’t express how wonderful it was.

First of all, I was an emotional wreck.  I had just broken up with my first boyfriend, and, you know, my childhood. At HSI we had small group where we would get together and talk about our emotional lives. It was the first therapy I had in my life, and it probably saved me.

And the amazing classes I took.  It’s three weeks long, and as part of it you take college courses.  I was introduced to N. Scott Momaday and Chinua Achebe and got to experience Numerical Imaginings. And I got FREE BOOKS (which I still have)! 

And my fellow instituters were and still are amazing.  Pete Simpson Jr, Al Simpson’s nephew, was in that class. They all were so smart and amazing.  I haven’t kept in touch with them, but now I wish I would have. This year, we're celebrating the 30th anniversary of HSI.

And now, they invited me back to teach a writers workshop, which I did yesterday.  It was so great! The kids are whip smart and so much fun.  Their creativity oozes out of them, let me tell you! They have bright futures ahead of them.

There were two classes, and I planned three exercises for each but was only able to accomplish two in the hour we had.  First, I took the first couple sentences of some famous books and then they added sentences and passed them to their left and added to other stories. So much fun! Then they interviewed each other and wrote each others’ Life Story on a Postcard, a la Michael Kimball.  The third exercise was going to be writing their own life story in third person as a fairy tale, but we didn’t get to that.

All I can say is: You people who are cynical about the younger generations, you shouldn't be.  This happens every time I work with young people. I realize how amazing and hopeful and positive they are. They were all avid readers and great writers and motivated and wicked smart.

Our future is so bright, I gotta wear shades!

'The Adventures of Opal the Hound Dog'

While we were on vacation in South Carolina last week, I was telling someone about Opal the redbone hound dog in my novel Earth’s Imagined Corners.  You know how it is. In order to make death real in a book, you actually have to kill someone off.  And so, in this case, I had to kill the lovely Opal. 

My daughter heard and was very upset. “You killed the dog?” she said.

I explained that you don’t actually see the dog dead, but the last glimpse you see of her is on top of a house in a great flood as the house rolls over.  So she may not actually be dead. She may have swum to safety.

“Mom, you have to write another book about just Opal,” my daughter said. “She has to swim to safety and have a long life and then meet up with Sara’s cousin at the end.”

And, so, guess what I’m doing? I’m writing a fun children’s book called The Adventures of Opal the Hound Dog.

And so you can get a taste of Opal’s life, here is where we meet Opal.

As Sara and James made their way home, they saw a young girl in a white pinafore walking along dangling two red puppies with big floppy ears from her arms and talking to a man on the street. The man listened to what the girl said but then shook his head and walked off. As Sara and James came by, the girl turned to them and said, “Would you like a puppy? They don’t cost nothing. My papa says he’s going to throw them in the river if I don’t find someone to take them on.” At closer view, the puppies were indeed small but older than Sara had first believed. They were just beginning to lengthen into grown dogs.

As the full day of liberation left Sara with such a good feeling, she did not want to let this pass—it seemed like a good omen—so she said spontaneously, “Of course, we would love to have such fine specimen of a dog. That’s so kind of you to try to save them.” Relief crossed the girl’s face, who said, “Would you take two, then?” Sara considered it but then glanced at James’s face, which was contained but set. James did not want one dog, much less two. “Oh!” Sara said. “James, would a dog be all right?” James did not respond, so she said, “It could be my birthday present. Please? Just one.” He stood for a minute and then relented with a small shake of his head. Sara turned to the girl. “I’m sorry, but we can only take one of them off your hands.” The girl handed over the larger of the two, a female, and Sara took its wriggling mass into her arms. Its skin felt too big for its body, which was warm and solid and alive, and Sara was immediately overcome with a maternal kind of love. “I think I’ll name you Opal,” she said. She turned to James and said, “Opal was my mother’s name.” He nodded, smilingly resigned to the new acquisition. Sara hummed the whole rest of the way home, holding close the alternately limp and wriggling warm body.

Opal filled their little apartment with enthusiastic motion. When first set down, she immediately put her nose to the floor and seemed led by it on a meandering path all through the space. It was as if the nose had a mind of its own and the dog’s body merely followed on a tether. Opal nosed under the bed and behind the stove and put her paws up on the shelves and tried to sniff the dry goods. She made her way over to the bed and tried to leap onto it but made it only halfway before flopping onto her side on the floor. She stood back up and shook herself, undaunted, and continued to sniff about. After a time, even James seemed charmed by her earnest zeal as she nosed his ankles.

This is the last time we see Opal.

But then James heard the strangest sound. It was low and then undulated higher, and he realized that it was the baying of a hound dog. He twisted to look behind him, upstream, and there, canted at an angle, was the roof of a building, the very peak jutting from the water. On the peak stood a wet red dog, baying. It could not be, but it was. Opal stood there straddling the peak, her head facing downstream. She lifted her muzzle once more, and the sound of her baying voice was time-delayed coming over the water. James searched beside her and what little he could see of the roof, but there was no one else. It was a relief, but then it was not. “Opal!” James screamed. “Ooooh-paaall!” The dog turned its head in his direction as the building swept past the tree, not too close, but the dog did not seem to see him, and then her head turned back downstream to what lay in her future. Just then the building rolled in the water, and James lost sight of the dog’s form behind the tipping roof and then the walls that followed. That was the last he saw of her, though he frantically searched the waters nearby. At that, something broke within him, and he began to cry, though the sound of his loud convulsive sobs were drowned out in the roar and his tears mingled with the rain.

And here is the beginning of Opal’s continuing adventures.

Opal the hound dog stood on the peak of the house roof as the flood raged around her. The house swayed and shook underneath her as it swept down the wide expanse of the Missouri River.

She lifted her muzzle and let out a long mournful howl.

Under the overwhelming muddy smell of the flood, Opal could smell other things, like dead bloated cows and freshly felled trees and even, once, a soggy loaf of fresh-baked bread.

Opal had a really good nose.  She was a redbone hound dog, after all, and she could smell a raccoon track ten days gone.  She could tell you if a bird flying by had nestlings and if a person was likely to pat her on the head or swing a boot.

The house lurched underneath her and she was thrown forward into the roiling river.  The water was cold as it hit her and she gasped just as her head sank below a wave. She kicked hard and her back legs connected with something under the water, and so she shot upward and her head broke the surface. She gasped again, welcomed air flooding her lungs.

She kicked and paddled and kicked, and often a wave threatened to bowl her over or an undertow threatened to pull her down.  But she kept going. She knew she couldn’t swim upstream, and downstream kept her in the middle of the maelstrom, and so she swam at a crooked angle until finally, exhausted, she paddled into a quiet sandy eddy.

She pulled her bone-tired body out of the water and, too tired to even shake, she found the curve of a tree root a safe distance from the water. She curled up and slept.

I’m having such fun with it!

Happy Bloomsday!

Bloomsday

Those Charming Out-of-the-way Places

My Sister's Books

One of the things I love to do when I go to other places is to discover those little local places.  I generally don’t like the big touristy things but go for the things that feel more authentic, those places where the locals go.

For example, when I was in London, I went to the museums, which were free by the way, and instead of being drawn to the Crown Jewels with their dramatic music and pomposity, I loved the Medieval ironworks and the tapestries and the death mask of Napoleon. The real things.  What people used every day.

In South Carolina on the last day, my wonderful mother-in-law and I went on a trek to find a used book store, and we scored!  We found My Sister’s Books in Pawleys Island.  What a great bookstore!  Books stacked neatly floor to ceiling.  Even the bathroom was stacked floor to ceiling with books, and you had to reach through them to find the light switch.

And the two proprietors were so friendly and helpful.  Mom and I picked up books for the kids (including It’s Like This, Cat and Island of the Blue Dolphins, which I loved as a kid myself).  They also turned us on to Jojo Moyes Me Before You. Mom’s reading it now, and then I’ll read it. I can’t wait!

The Hammock Shops

Then they turned us on to the Hammock Shops.  How wonderful and charming! “Less mall, more magic.” It’s a bunch of shops rambling around in some trees. It felt like an elf village. We went into the Christmas store and found their world famous fudge (Yum!) and then watched the wonderful craft of the hammock maker. He was a character and told the story of how he learned to make hammocks while he weaved away.  Apparently he learned from two different people, one of which was an old Russian who he needed a translator for.

Funny thing is, we’ve had this great hammock for years that we finally had to throw out last year because it had worn through. Turns out, it was from this place. Small world.  We’re going to order another.

And now, the hammock weaver Marvin Grant.