At Home in Story World

I've been on an Elizabeth Berg binge of late, reading one Berg novel after the other, right down the line, according to year of publication. Almost every time I check one out at the library, no matter which library I use, the clerk helping me makes a comment about Elizabeth's books, how much they enjoy her writing, how popular she is, etc. And I always agree. I love her writing. I can step into most any of her story worlds and feel right at home. Is this a result of Elizabeth "writing what she knows," as Marybeth discussed on Monday? For example, does Ms. Berg know what it's like to have a mother walk out on her (What We Keep)? ... have a husband who dies after depleting their life savings (Home Safe)? ... run a boarding house after a costly divorce (Open House)?

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If we had an opportunity to sit down for a cup of tea with Elizabeth -- isn't she lovely? and wouldn't it be nice to be so familiar with her? -- and ask her about the stories she's written, she probably would say she doesn't know the specifics of each scenario, but what she does know is the relationships contained within the stories she writes. She knows what it is to be a wife, a mother, a friend. And after all, it's the relationships that I love about her writing. And it's relationships I love to write about. Like mothers and daughters, and daughters and mothers. There's no end to the story possibilities there!

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How much, exactly, do you have to know about a topic to create a story world your readers would want to inhabit all the way to the last page? Is it enough, as in Marybeth's case, to just know about the mailbox, and use it as the central "What if ..." of a story? I say, "Absolutely!" That's where all my stories (published and unpublished) begin. "What if ..."

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... a young boy makes a decision that leads to his sister's death, then struggles to deal with his guilt (Hub of a Daisy)?

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... a woman's world is forever altered when she loses a lifelong friend to catastrophic illness (Every Good & Perfect Gift)?

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... a woman's world is rocked and rocked again with news of her husband's death, then of his infidelity (Lying on Sunday)?

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... a woman experiences a crisis of faith when the unthinkable happens (Unraveled)?

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I don't know what it is to cause someone's death, but I do know how it feels to lose a sibling. And I do know how it feels to carry guilt for decisions I've made.

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I don't know what it is to experience infertility, but I do know what it is to lose a close friend to Early Onset Alzheimer's. I've lost two in fact to EOA.

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I don't know what it's like to be a widow, but I do know what it is to have a comfortable life interrupted by devastating news.

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I've never had a crisis of faith, but I've experienced things that have made me ask the hard questions of God.

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So maybe it's a blend of what we know, taking us into what we don't know, because of who we know. Convoluted? Perhaps. But a lot goes into the writing of a novel. We can't know everything about everything. That's where research comes in (and the Internet has put a world of facts at our fingertips -- so much easier than in the old days), but we're not writing term papers, so we have to be expert weavers, seamlessly inserting our research as threads that blend with the whole. And beyond that, we have to give our imagination permission to run free.

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When you open a novel, what are your expectations when you read the first page? Do you read as an interested observer, or as a participant in the story? Whose voice do you hear word by word? Do you read a novel to learn something, or to experience something? Or both? What are some story worlds you've found easy to inhabit, and why?

Nourish Your Dreams

I'm excited to announce that our giveaway this month is Hot Apple Cider, an anthology that contains Bonnie Grove's short story, The Stuckville Cafe. The title alone makes my mouth water. Leave a comment to be entered in the drawing.

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I recently read Home Safe by Elizabeth Berg, an excellent story by this best-selling author. It deals with the ticklish relationship between a mother and her grown daughter, which is a topic I love to both read and write about.

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I'm not a reader who typically marks in the margins of a novel or underlines text. I don't dog-ear the pages, or bend back the spine. I leave as little physical evidence that I've traveled through the pages of a novel as I possibly can. The tracks of the novel journey for me are impressed on my mind, and when it's really good, on my heart. I love to leave a book looking as new as possible when I'm through with it for the next person I pass it on to, or for my library if it's one I choose to keep. And prepare yourself: I'm not a fan of used books stores either. I know, that's sacrilege for an author, but it's newness I love. Give me a Barnes and Noble any day.

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But on page 68 of Home Safe there's a little asterisk in blue ink next to the lengthy paragraph in the middle of the page. It's from the point of view of Helen Ames, a woman newly widowed, an author whose career has stalled, and a mother who's depending far too heavily on her grown daughter. In the scene I marked, Helen has just concluded a less-than-stellar presentaton at a local library, a presentation she didn't want to make in the first place. This is how the passage reads, in part: "You know, I wonder if---Maybe I could try again another time." She'll share with them the story about telling her father as a little girl that she was going to be a writer someday and how at first he had laughed but then had said, "I believe you." She'll explain how important it is to have someone believe in you, how important it is to nourish dreams, especially your own."

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Those few simple words went straight to my heart. I not only stopped to re-read them a half dozen times, I went looking for a pen and marked the margin.

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From my earliest memory, my free time was spent with a pencil and drawing pad sketching faces, always faces. Later I dabbled in oils, but drawing in pencil was what I loved best. I thought if I ever accomplished anything artistically, it would be in that art form. Then I got married, started having babies, and somewhere along the line I forgot how to draw. But like many people, I often thought--secretly of course--I'd love to write a book someday. It never occurred to me that one day I might actually try, let alone do it.

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I was a shy person, and even more shy about showing my drawings to anyone, never quite comfortable with praise from my family and friends, because my eye invariably accented the flaws. I was sure theirs did too, and that their praise was false and obligatory. So when I began to write my first novel, I did it in secret, sure that everyone--like Helen Ames' father--would laugh at such a silly idea. I'd written 100 pages over the course of a summer before I revealed to anyone what I was doing. Then one night I handed the pages to my husband, and went to hide while he read them. To my amazement he not only didn't laugh; he praised and encouraged. He nourished my dream. Twenty years later he's still doing that.

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There's not a doubt in my mind that his encouragement, and that of our son and daughters, is what helped me stay the course on my long path to publication. Hopes were dashed many times along the way, but always I could hear them say, "I believe in you," and it was enough to make me believe in myself.

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I'm remarkably blessed to be in the community of Christian writers, where support and encouragment is the norm, where fellow authors rejoice when you rejoice. And of my friends and colleagues here at NovelMatters I simply have to say, it doesn't get any better than this. We truly are a support group, cheering each other on when good things happen and praying when they don't. I respect and appreciate them more than I can say.

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So who has nourished your dreams? And whose dreams are you nourishing? Because we're in this together, you know. Your success lends to our success, which lends to another's success, and on it goes. And where would we be without readers? You too nourish our dreams. More than you know. Thank you and God bless.