Listen!
By Sarah Callender | May 31, 2011 |
Therese here. I came to know about today’s guest, Sarah Callender, after her letter landed in the WU inbox. She was an unpublished writer, she said, with a great agent (Rebecca Oliver) and a spanky new novel (Between the Sun and the Oranges) nearly ready to go out on submission. Did we ever accept guest posts from unpublished folks we’ve never heard from before? Truth is, we don’t do that very often. But I visited her blog, Inside-Out Underpants, and fell in mad love with a post there called Monogamy–about the similarities between writing a novel and staying married. Seriously, one of the best posts I’ve read on writing. Ever. Go forth and read it, then come back. I’ll wait. No, really, GO.
Okay, now that you’re back, I’ll tell you the rest of the tale. That post was so fab, my socks knocked so far off my feet, that I quickly invited Sarah to write a post for us. Happily she agreed. Enjoy!
Listen!
“Poetry and Hums,” [Pooh says] “aren’t things which you get, they’re things which get you. And all you can do is go where they can find you.”
Oh, Pooh. Do you mean Writing Hums? Those electric pulses that sauté and braise and knead our words into stories? If so, you are right, Pooh. The Hums find us; we don’t find them.
Still, I am stubborn. Too often, I find myself standing inside the door of the Belltown Starbucks, 10:00 a.m. sharp, in my raspberry raincoat and sassy wedges, lips glossed, laptop bag held tight in my hands.
The Hums said they’d be here.
But now it’s 10:10.
Now, 10:22.
Did the Hums say 10:00? Or was it 11:00? And was it the Belltown or the Downtown Starbucks . . . and which Downtown Starbucks?
Gummy lip gloss coats my tongue, my throat, my creativity. I’m getting those underarm sweat circles. My elbows itch. Where are those Hums? Today’s my writing day! A whole morning without kids or appointments or distractions. WHERE ARE YOU, HUMS?
Pooh would tell me to be patient. To be silent. But I am hardly ever patient. And life is rarely silent. So I must place myself in places where Hums can find me. And then, I must Open Wide.
You, writer-friend, try it too. That’s right, pretend you’re in that dentist’s chair, only don’t just open your mouth. Open up your whole darn self so the Hums have a solid place to land. Otherwise, the Hums, worried about fuel supply, will be forced to buzz over to another writer’s landing pad, a writer who is Open Wide.
Of course, telling yourself to Open Wide may feel a little weird and scary. And impossible. As if someone is standing over your naked body with a knife or a camera, screaming, “JUST RELAX!!!!”
But Opening Wide is about relaxing. Maybe you are someone who Opens Wide by going for a walk, by dicing onions, by praying. By writing at 3:00 a.m. By listening to the rumbly in your tumbly. By reading poems by Karen Finneyfrock or Wislawa Szymborska. By meditating to the chant, WislawaSzymborska, WislawaSzymborska. Whatever. Find your own personal can opener, relax, then break yourself wide open.
But! Be prepared to recognize the Hums when they arrive. Your Story’s Hum, for example, is good and trustworthy. A Story, after all, yearns to be told. Though it may pirouette across pages and continents, through dreams and across buffet tables, your Story will not lead you astray.
Your characters, however, might. Every narrator, every character, is unreliable. You know why? Because characters are as real as people, and people are chipped China dinner plates. Be careful when a Character’s Hums feel louder than the Story’s Hums because this humming character will have freckles and red hair, for which you are a sucker. He will call himself Jason, the name of your first crush, and he will call you, “Ma’am.” Jason will offer to do light chores around the house. Window cleaning and weed pulling and such. And oh, how you want to let Jason’s redheaded Hums carry you to the end of the story!
But do not do it.
Because Jason has an agenda. Jason wants to be the star of the story, but he is no more the star of the story than you, the author. The Story is the star of the Story.
(Just to be clear: If, in following the Story’s Hums, your Story tells you it’s OK to make Jason the star, go for it. But only if the Story’s Hums say it’s OK.)
Feel free to follow Inner Hums too. They, like Story Hums, want good things for both you, writer-friend, and for the Story. Your Inner Hums may be a gut feeling. They may feel like desire or a tickle or a nudge from God. The crackle of static electricity. The bendy wiggle of a goldfish. Perhaps your Inner Hum is a short-skirted, cheerleader with bows in her hair and Go, YOU! decals on its cheeks. Lucky you.
Most likely, though, your Inner Hums are louder than spiders and quieter than the purring of a content cat. Trust these Hums. They’re smarter than you. They have coffee with Toni Morrison on Tuesdays. They hobnob with the ghosts of all of your favorite dead writers. They walk elegantly in three-inch heels. And best of all, they want you to be a writer because—news flash!—you already are a writer. There’s no turning back.
(Another clarification: if your Inner Hums start to sound like someone real—a writing professor, your ex-beau, a contest judge—find your earplugs because THAT IS NOT YOUR INNER HUM. Give that nasty Hum a name. Like Ron. Then say, “Buzz off, Ron.” Ron needs to know he’s not welcome in these here parts.)
Both the Inner Hums and the Story’s Hums want us to keep writing. They want us to be the courtroom stenographer of the stories buried even deeper than our Inner Hums.
So let them find us. Sit quietly in wide open places and be visible. And listen. Both the Story’s Hums and the Inner Hums will carry us when we want to pretend we’re not writers, when we’re not sure whether it’s right or left at the fork in the plot. These Hums will bear us on their backs, like mighty ants, so our stories can spill forth, word by word.
Shh! Listen. Don’t you hear the purr of the cat of the motor of the heartbeat of the sewing machine that stitches together your Story?
I do. Your Hums are really quite ear-splitting. I can hear them all the way from here.
Thanks for a wonderful post, Sarah. Readers, you can learn more about Sarah on her fab blog. Write on!
Photo courtesy Flickr’s Swiv
A Middle Grade novelist (and Middle School English teacher), Sarah Callender lives in Seattle with her family. Because Sarah dislikes cleaning anything that will just get messy again, she tidies the house and weeds the yard only when absolutely necessary. This allows her time to focus on her true–and somewhat fraught–passions: writing, Abe Lincoln, and Tony’s Chocolonely chocolate bars. Equally passionate about mental health advocacy, Sarah is a member of The Stability Network. Sarah’s first novel, LUCY IN BETWEEN, will be published by Margaret Ferguson Books/Holiday House in 2026.
Ooooh, lovely. I suspect your novel is very hummy and will find a home soon (if it hasn’t already!). Next time I’m sitting down to write, I will prepare by re-reading this post. Thank you.
Thanks so much, Anne! So glad the Hums resonated with you . . . means you’re a hummy writer too. :)
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Oh it is so hard to keep those characters in their place, and one of them can hijack a story in a blink of an eye. This is an excellent reminder that all persons involved in a larger tale (author included) need to remember their role.
Yes! The hijacking is totally unnerving. I am starting to research and do some plotting on my next book, and I have three characters who are all vying for Protag status. Crud. Worse, they all have a really good case. I’m tired just thinking about it.
Thanks so much for your comment!
This is such a beautiful post! I kept trying to find my favorite part to quote but I couldn’t pick just one. Sarah, you seem to have a hum all your own and I look forward to seeing your book on the shelf as I see submissions going very well for you.
As Therese suggested, I checked out your other post, Monogamy. Genius! You have a new follower. :)
Oh, this makes my day, Hallie. Thanks so much. Happy writing to you!
Beautifully put. And I love the Pooh metaphor. :) Just what I needed this quiet morning.
I’m off to open myself to the hums.
:)
Great post. And I love your blog! Love the look of it, loved the article, and wound up looking around. You’ve got a tremendous voice. Can’t wait to see your novel when it’s published, which I’m sure it will be!
Many thanks, Cathy! Your note was so encouraging. Thank you.
Oh, what a beautiful way with words you have! You’ve got yourself another follower here too :)
Thanks so much, Sarah! Happy writing to you.
What an amazing post. Sarah has an amazing voice, and it’s good to hear other writers talk about their Inner Hums. It’s take me a long time to learn to listen to them, and I still struggle with that sometimes.
Great post!
How funny, I just discovered Sarah’s awesome blog a few days ago! This post is just what I needed to read this morning. Feeling slightly closer to centered :)
Wonderful post, Sarah. I love your voice and your writing!
Best wishes with submissions…I look forward to reading your book.
(Now, excuse me while I put my socks back on…) ;)
So sweet (and funny!), Cindy. Thanks so much.
Oh, Sarah, you have no idea how much I needed to read both of your posts. Your inspiration couldn’t have come at a better time. Thank you. And best wishes on your journey.
Thank YOU. I so appreciate your kind words.
Hee, I love Pooh! And thus I love this post. Thanks for reminding us to be Open Wide to the Hums. I needed that after the long holiday.
Btw, Jason really was the name of my first crush, and he WAS red-headed with freckles. Are you a mind-reader or what?!
So funny! My crush really was named Jason, but no red hair. I am a sucker for the red heads . . . had this Jason had red hair, I might have woo’ed him a little harder. :)
Hi Sarah! This is a great post. As I read it I thought, “I totally get what she’s saying, but I could not explain to to someone else.” Why? Because writers speak the same languages, even if we describe what we feel when we’re working as hums or tingles or, I don’t know, that feeling like you have to sneeze (that’s usually how I think of my hums!).
Just love connecting with other writers…because no one else gets it. :)
Good luck with your novel!
So true, Stephanie. I’ve thought many a time that if I didn’t have my writer-friends, I’d be lying fetal somewhere. Thanks for your note!
Brilliant as always!!
Sarah, I loved this post. Your writing voice is beautiful. I love the soulful quality that’s held aloft with wings of humor and compassion. Thanks to you and Therese and my friend, Linda, who sent me the link to this post.
I loved this. You have such a unique voice! (And I had to laugh when you called the “nasty Hum” Ron. That’s my husband’s name. LOL!).
Ha! My apologies to your Ron, who, I am sure is nothing like my Nasty Ron voice. Thanks so much for reading, Melissa.
Thanks, the post made me chuckle – which is excellent hum bait.
Having just read the Monogamy post, all I can say is Oh Hell Yes!!
How perfect. I loved this very much and cannot wait to read your novel.
I look forward to enjoying your novel just as much as I enjoyed these posts. Gorgeous writing voice!
What kind comments! Thank you for your encouragement and, as always, for reading. Happy writing to you all . . .
I love this post! I vote we start a new Twitter hashtag for #hums. :)
You have thrown me into a dank abyss of depression. I thought I could write until I read your posts. YOU can write! Sigh.
WoW! What truth you told! Sent inspiring shivers through me.
I’m all excited to write today, thanks to your post.
Oh, goodness, what a lovely voice! And such confidence!
First of all, anyone who quotes Winnie the Pooh is made of win. Second, your bit about Jason made me particularly laugh. Thank you for the shot of whimsy.
Magnificent!!!
Wonderful post. Will have to learn to listen for my Hums, and channel my spirit of Poo, instead of chasing ’em with a butterfly net.
Can’t read to read your book – I’m sure it WILL sell.
Beautifully, hummingly, cream-cake-with-chocolate-sprinkles-gorgeous. Love the post!