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Priorities, creative writing, writers, authors, novelists, conflict,characters, writing life, writers library, library, vicki hinze, career strategy
Showing posts with label characters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label characters. Show all posts
Friday, September 18, 2009
P R I O R I T I E S
READ ARTICLE
Priorities, creative writing, writers, authors, novelists, conflict,characters, writing life, writers library, library, vicki hinze, career strategy
Monday, August 25, 2008
CHARACTERS ON DEATH
CHARACTERS ON DEATHSUNDAY, AUGUST 24, 2008
WARNING: This is a no-edit zone...
When someone close to us dies we are profoundly impacted. Our...
READ MORE...
Tags: creative writing, characters, characterization, vicki hinze, writers library, death, grief, mourning, emotional reactions
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
CYBERSTALKING & CHARACTERS--LIVE! WORKSHOP
An FYI
1. It’s my turn to post on Clever Divas today. The article is on Cyberstalking. What it is, what is done, what you can do about it, who can help. Did you know that many victims don’t know they’re victims until danger escalates? If you’d care to read the article, the Clever Divas link () will take you to it.
2. For the next week, I’ll be teaching an online workshop for ACRA members, CHARACTERS—LIVE! If you’re not a member of ACRA and would like to attend, please contact me. I’m not sure of the policy, but I’ll see what I can do.
Back to my cave--multiple deadlines today!
Blessings,
Vicki
Tags:
Monday, February 04, 2008
INTERNAL COMPASS
We all have an internal compass.
It comes to us as flashes of intuition, gut instinct. Sometimes, when danger threatens, it raises the hair on our necks and arms. At others, it comes to us as a gentle knowing.
Some say we absorb signals subconsciously and instinct is nothing more than us becoming consciously aware.
Some say we suffer sensory input overload and it triggers the sum of our experience and knowledge and wisdom which makes value judgments and signals our internal compass to alert us.
Some say we are the sum of our experience and our reactions are solely learned. (i.e. touch a hot stove, get burned, never forget it and always associate touching a hot stove with getting burned.)
Others say these nudges are divine intervention, in the case of warnings, or of divine assurance, in the case of affirmations.
I believe our internal compass is all of that and more. And the more we trust it, the more aware we become and the easier it is for that compass to get our attention. It’s like muscles. Those you exercise perform better and more easily than those you don’t. The more we exercise our internal compass, the stronger, wiser and more honed it becomes.
Take reading. When you were learning how to read, you first struggled over the letters that formed the words. Then you struggled over the words. But as you practiced and learned to recognize them, the reading became easier, faster, and your comprehension of what you were reading grew.
When you were learning to type, you weren’t familiar with the keyboard and you had to look at the keys to verify their position to be certain of the outcome. You push P and get P. You don’t push P and get Q. Soon, you develop a bond of trust between your mind and fingertips and the keyboard. You know that when you push P that’s what you’re going to get.
If your internal compass warns that danger is afoot, and danger comes, then the next time that compass signals you of danger, you give the warning more credence. The more it proves accurate, the more weight you give it.
Our internal compasses give us insights not only on danger but on those gentler knowings. Where someone tells us something and innately we recognize it as truth. We don’t need hard evidence. We don’t need character witnesses or for verifiable events to affirm or to vindicate. We just know.
Most people acknowledge their internal compass. Many respect it, and some rely on it in all things. Writers typically fall into the last category, or grow into it. Why?
Because dealing with people, their motivations and conflicts, is ordinary business for writers. We couldn’t write a paragraph, much less a story, otherwise. So this routine work gives our compass-muscles a lot of exercise. It becomes honed and we naturally take that honed skill into other areas of our lives. Sometimes knowingly, sometimes as innate, normal reactions.
What does that mean to the writer when it comes to the work?
It means that writers usually craft characters with strong internal compasses, too. And that those characters use them.
Some characters, depending on their story role, might not heed their compass, but the protagonists, being admirable people readers respect and want to emulate, do. It’s odd for a worthy villain not to rely heavily on his internal compass, too.
These acknowledgements of and affinity with their internal compasses means the attuned writer instinctively creates 3-dimensional characters. Ones with depth and real-life qualities. Complex characters that aren’t just reflections of their story role but ones that give birth to their story roles. It is what it is because they are who they are. The result? Highly individualized characters and stories.
Characters intuit. Relate. Deliberately heed or dispute their compasses’ findings. They don’t ignore or disregard the compass; it’s too much a part of them to be ignored.
What can the internal compass do for characters (or people)?
In bogus situations, it signals the wisdom in skepticism and doubt. Have you ever had someone tell you something and even as they spoke, you knew it was a lie? That’s your internal compass at work.
Have you been in a situation where things were not as they seemed? No one told you they weren’t, but you knew all the same. How did you know? Say you detected an experience or event was staged. How did you innately know it wasn’t genuine? Your internal compass.
What about the person who says I’m sorry, but you know they’re not. That their apology is a machination or a manipulation to achieve a goal and not sincere? Or the person/character who deliberately undermines relationships because it serves their own interests--or they believe it does?
And you know it without evidence. All of it. Again, that’s your internal compass at work.
Everyone has an internal compass. It tells us right from wrong. It is the keeper of our conscience---and the guilt that parks there when we cross lines we shouldn’t cross. It signals our lines in the sand, our values being trampled or exalted, our judgments being confirmed or refuted. Our compass does all that and more, which is why it is critical to not neglect the internal compasses in our characters.
Characters emulate real people. Without an internal compass, the best character can only be a shadow of all s/he could be and should be. Seated in the compass is an integral part of our humanity.
We’ve all heard about the person about to take a flight getting a feeling s/he shouldn’t. S/he doesn’t fly, and the plane crashes.
We’ve all heard about the person who sensed an attack and either was or spared him/herself as a direct result of the warning.
We’ve all heard about the people who knew xyz was lying or cheating or having an affair and later was proven right.
Characters should have these experiences, too.
A common technique in fiction: when the female protagonist hears something and goes to investigate, and the reader (of the book) or the viewer (of the movie) is virtually shouting at the protagonist not to go down those stairs, not to go outside. We know danger is waiting. Sometimes the protagonist does, sometimes s/he doesn’t.
The character is ignoring his/her internal compass, but we’re heeding ours. That’s why we’re virtually shouting--and the conflict creates suspense that engages the reader.
We do exercise caution with this. We want the conflict and the suspense. We don’t want the reader to think our protagonist or antagonist is too stupid to live.
Remember in SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY when Julia Robert’s character returns home from the midnight picnic and senses someone’s been in the house? She innately knows it. But she still goes inside, finds the towels on the rack straightened (after she’d deliberately scrunched them) and the canned goods in the cabinet all in perfect order--not as she’d left them. Those things signaled every viewer that the abusive ex she’d fled was in the house. And every viewer feared what he would do to her.
If you look at that example, it shows multiple uses of the character’s internal compass. Intuited and learned.
The compass works that way for us and for our characters, and the more we trust it, the stronger it becomes.
And the stronger it becomes, the more deft we become as writers inserting it into our works.❧
Blessings,
Vicki
©2008, Vicki Hinze
Tags: internal compass, guidance, direction, standards, characters, authors, writers, writing, readers, books, novels, storytelling, stories
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
WHERE DID ALL THE GOOD PEOPLE GO?
Warning: this is a no-edit zone...
For most of the past decade, I've been answering questions for other writers--nearly 2,000 of them, when you combine my library group and the Aids4Writers group at Yahoo. Some responses, I share with the others on the lists. Some are too specific and personal to share with anyone other than the person who asks.
Over the years, I've been asked just about everything that can be asked on the writing craft, the business, and about life as a writer. Many inquiries have set me to seeking expertise. Many have been heart-wrenching for the challenges presented in them. They've kept me on my toes, and a huge number of them have made me really think about many different things.
But in all these years, and in all these inquiries, I don't think I've received one more sobering than one I received earlier today from a writer who clearly is in a hard place. And because I realize that it's all too easy for all of us to awaken and discover ourselves in a hard place, I am addressing this through the group.
When I received this inquiry, my initial reaction was to fire off a response--quick--but I realized that careful consideration--thoughtful, careful consideration--was required. You see, this inquiry impacted the writer. Not just the work, or just one aspect of the writer, but regarded a topic so intricately woven into the fabric of the human being herself that it cannot be separated from the writer.
And something that significant requires all the care one has to give.
So I've spent the day thinking about this. Accomplishing little else, because the weight of this challenge is heavy; the burden bulky and unyielding. And so I'll share with you now my thoughts on this issue, and I hope from all the recesses of my heart that it will be sufficient to help.
The issue:
In examining deep characterization and focusing intently on bad qualities in people, the writer writes: "Only now I’m so incased in finding those bad qualities in people, I can't see the good ones any more. Where did all the good people go, how do I draw those good and decent characters out so my stories have equal balance. NO, please do not tell me to let Calgone take me away; I seem to have lost sight of what balances the person. Suggestions welcomed how do I reconnect and write the good stuff again?"
When I read the full text (what's above is an excerpt), I thought, this is one of the reasons so many writers become alcoholics and engage in drug use--to escape; seeking refuge. Many writers fall to depression. Many grow cynical and some despondent.
We don't want to do any of that. It's all destructive. We're constructive people. And yet we do focus so intently, feel so deeply, engage so strongly that we can become victims of these things unless we take precautions--and unless we are disciplined in our actions and are determined to not become victims. It's not easy to see, hear and feel all we do and not be adversely impacted. And yet our profession requires that we be impacted to write with clarity, conviction and authority. And that's a paradox that often lands us center square in a dilemma.
We must engage. We can't disengage and do our jobs well. So what do we do? How do we engage without becoming victims?
We control our engagements and, as I suggested in The Common Sense Guide for Writers, we write with passion and compassion--and that compassion includes being compassionate with ourselves. We write with passion or we aren't convincing. We write with compassion because those we write about deserve it--it's part of the respect package that every living thing deserves--and we, the human beings in the writers, require it.
So what we need are tools. Tips on how to do that. And what follows are a few. Note that most of these suggestions are perspectives and attitudes the writer can adopt. Note that they require perspective, mindset, discipline and compassion. Respect for self as well as others. Care, concern, compassion are as important as logic and analysis.
Tips:
1. Objective Observer. Yes, we study people, their behavior, their actions and motivations. Yes, studying them intently is essential to portraying them in our stories. We get up close and personal. But that doesn't mean that we absorb what we observe into ourselves. Only that we see, we recognize, we imagine.
Sometimes we do want to adopt new traits or opinions, ideas, attitudes as a result of our observations. But when we do, we should absorb those observations because they make us wiser and stronger people (positive attributes) and not negative ones.
So it's important to look at people's qualities--good and bad--and to seek to understand them. But it isn't essential to us to make them our own. We have to try to be objective observers.
Seek the truth, see the truth, and know the truth. We relate it in our stories. But choose not to accept and absorb the negative aspects of that truth. It is not a part of us and can't become a part of us unless we choose to make it so. Choose to be an objective observer.
2. Like attracts like. Whether it's a magnet or thoughts, like attracts like. If you focus intently on negative qualities in people or in situations, that's what attracts you.and what is attracted to you. It's universal law. It's scientifically explained. If all you're seeing are bad qualities, it's not because that's all there is, but it's all that's attracted your attention and to all that you're attracted.
Our protection is in turning this around and playing the flip side. Imagine a set of scales. One side is heavy with Bad qualities. The other side is empty. But if you place Good qualities on that side, the scales achieve balance.
So make a conscious effort balance the scales. That is essential to all human beings but particularly to those of us who spend so much of our time and lives in creative pursuits. Study bad qualities. But deliberately study good qualities, too.
Some writers are more susceptible to negative influences than others. If you're extremely susceptible, then know it and actively counter it with balance. The fix need not be anything elaborate. In your mind, put a good quality on the scale. Or use a simple list. For each negative quality you add to the list, in an opposing column add a positive one. If the influence isn't that strong, then study and balance simply by noticing the good qualities in others.
Little things make an enormous impact, particularly in comparison. An example: Today, I was watching the 9/11 coverage on the news. The tragic loss of life, the irrationality of bombing innocents, people jumping out of the towers, all the orphans and widowers and widows... I was as outraged as the day it all happened. Totally inflamed. And then on the screen before my eyes, I saw President Bush shaking hands with people. He stopped to talk to a teenage girl. She bent his ear a good while. He teared up, hugged her, talked and listened and hugged her again, giving her shoulder a fatherly, comforting pat. He walked down that line of people, hugging, kissing cheeks, comforting and caring. Now I won't say I always agree with this man, but I will say that he's a good comforter. I saw the change in the expressions in these people. I saw him tear up with them. And I suddenly noticed that I wasn't as angry. Resolved, yes, as much as ever. After all, the bastards want us dead. But the anger had softened under compassion's hand.
The lesson in that is to engage but let compassion's hand soften so that you understand what you're engaging from an insider's perspective (passion) but compassion allows you to have a more balanced reaction.
3. We see what we expect to see. When you're looking at human beings expecting to see bad qualities, you will. You'll miss seeing the good (even a stopped clock is right twice a day, so there is good in everything) because you expect to see bad.
I'm reminded here of the self-fulfilled prophesy. "I can't do it, I can't do it, I can't do it." Tell yourself (or someone else) that enough, and they will be believe you. So much so that it'll come to pass--you or they can't do it--because your faith in it happening (or not happening) was resolute.
I don't recall who said this, but I've had it written on my favorite quotes wall for years. "Image it and it will be." We create first in thought and then act to make it manifest. That holds true whether we are manifesting something bad or good.
You made a conscious effort to notice the bad. Thought it, then acted on it. You created that notice of the bad. Make that same conscious effort to notice the good. You know you can create it--you've done it already so it is possible to create the notice in good. In creating both, you achieve balance.
We do see what we expect to see, so expect to see good.
I know a young man who had a penchant for trouble. Others expected him to get into trouble and he didn't disappoint them. When I was consulted on how to help him turn his life around, my advice was simple: Expect his best--and let him know it.
He'll make mistakes, we all do. But when he does, let him scrape his knees and then help him up and love him through it. Just never stop expecting his best. Why?
Expecting his best is expressing faith in him. Belief in his abilities, capabilities and his judgment. It's saying, "I believe in you." And that inspires people to rise to the occasion, to prove to themselves and to you that your faith in them is well placed. It must be sincere. It must be honest. But faith can and does move mountains.
You see, the truth is that you can't change someone else's course. Only they are at the helm of their ship, making their choices. But you can inspire them to make wise choices, to consider wise choices worth making.
5. Goodness is like happiness. It doesn't come from without, it comes from within. It's a choice we make. We can be good or see good with the same ease we can be or see bad. We decide.
In the 9/11 film footage yesterday, one viewed and experienced many emotions. Shock, fear, outrage--moments of unstinting heroism, deep sadness, great tenderness. In many, suffering the worst brought out the best.
Some experienced the full range of emotions witnessed, conjured. Some got stuck on shock or fear. Some were numb to the shock and outrage but deeply moved by heroism. Some mourned again, as if not five years but five minutes had passed.
Each person chose their reaction. Whether that reaction was deliberate and conscious or unconscious; one s/he drifted into and just stayed. Remember, no choice is a choice.
I've seen people whose lives were destroyed. Who had lost everything they owned. Who were dying and knew it. And they were happy. Not at the destruction or loss or at their own deaths, but at the choices they'd made and the lives they'd lived. They looked at their big picture--their entire life--and not the single if significant event--and had few regrets.
There is power in choice. Every day when you wake up, before you put your feet on the floor, you can choose to see good in people today. You can be determined to notice random acts of kindness, kindnesses, the things people do to reach out to one other.
I'm not suggesting you play ostrich and bury your head in the sand against anything bad. I'm not suggesting you play Pollyanna and pretend the bad doesn't exist. I am suggesting that you choose how you react to good or bad. You choose how much of your focus and attention and emotion you grant it. Choose to see good in people. It's there. Waiting to be noticed and taken out for a spin.
4. Define good. Society gives us what it deems definitions of good and bad. From the cradle to adulthood others define it, and the older we get, the more definitions we have because our circle of influence widens.
But their comes a time in our lives we don't just accept or reject others' definitions. We create our own. And, while we're not to judge others because we don't walk in their shoes, know all they know, feel all they feel, we do make judgment values.
Those values vary from person to person. We're human, so we have a lot in common, and that typically extends to the judgment values we place on good and bad. But we have differences, too.
For example: One man's terrorist is another's freedom fighter. One's act of kindness is other's interference. One's compliment is another's insult.
In the same day, based on the same post, I've received notes that I'm a bleeding heart liberal and an uptight conservative. An idealist and too rooted in reality. I've gotten notes on my books that claim I know exactly what it's like to be in that position, and ones that say I don't have a clue.
The posts and the works haven't changed. What is different is people's perceptions. Their value judgments.
I can't make value judgments for others. I wouldn't presume to do that, or do it even if I had the power or ability to do so. That's each individual's right and responsibility. And isn't it wonderful that it is?
You must decide what is good and what is bad. And resolve yourself to being aware of the difference. Goodness is within and without in equal measure. You can seek it in yourself, encourage it to emerge and nurture it--in yourself and in others. Or not. You choose.
All of this said, remember that we're all human. We have flaws or we wouldn't be, we'd be perfect. Judge harshly and you will see more flaws than goodness. But goodness is still there.
And so I close, hoping that this has been helpful. That it's been enough, and it offers you the tools you need to again achieve balance. I hope that something in it inspires you to seek the good in people. Otherwise, you're headed for a lonely, bitter existence. And that would be a tragic loss, to and for you, and for others whose lives you might have touched.
Blessings,
Vicki
Vicki Hinze
Writing: Web Blog
www.vickihinze.com
Radio: Web Blog Listen
www.everydaywomanradio.com
For most of the past decade, I've been answering questions for other writers--nearly 2,000 of them, when you combine my library group and the Aids4Writers group at Yahoo. Some responses, I share with the others on the lists. Some are too specific and personal to share with anyone other than the person who asks.
Over the years, I've been asked just about everything that can be asked on the writing craft, the business, and about life as a writer. Many inquiries have set me to seeking expertise. Many have been heart-wrenching for the challenges presented in them. They've kept me on my toes, and a huge number of them have made me really think about many different things.
But in all these years, and in all these inquiries, I don't think I've received one more sobering than one I received earlier today from a writer who clearly is in a hard place. And because I realize that it's all too easy for all of us to awaken and discover ourselves in a hard place, I am addressing this through the group.
When I received this inquiry, my initial reaction was to fire off a response--quick--but I realized that careful consideration--thoughtful, careful consideration--was required. You see, this inquiry impacted the writer. Not just the work, or just one aspect of the writer, but regarded a topic so intricately woven into the fabric of the human being herself that it cannot be separated from the writer.
And something that significant requires all the care one has to give.
So I've spent the day thinking about this. Accomplishing little else, because the weight of this challenge is heavy; the burden bulky and unyielding. And so I'll share with you now my thoughts on this issue, and I hope from all the recesses of my heart that it will be sufficient to help.
The issue:
In examining deep characterization and focusing intently on bad qualities in people, the writer writes: "Only now I’m so incased in finding those bad qualities in people, I can't see the good ones any more. Where did all the good people go, how do I draw those good and decent characters out so my stories have equal balance. NO, please do not tell me to let Calgone take me away; I seem to have lost sight of what balances the person. Suggestions welcomed how do I reconnect and write the good stuff again?"
When I read the full text (what's above is an excerpt), I thought, this is one of the reasons so many writers become alcoholics and engage in drug use--to escape; seeking refuge. Many writers fall to depression. Many grow cynical and some despondent.
We don't want to do any of that. It's all destructive. We're constructive people. And yet we do focus so intently, feel so deeply, engage so strongly that we can become victims of these things unless we take precautions--and unless we are disciplined in our actions and are determined to not become victims. It's not easy to see, hear and feel all we do and not be adversely impacted. And yet our profession requires that we be impacted to write with clarity, conviction and authority. And that's a paradox that often lands us center square in a dilemma.
We must engage. We can't disengage and do our jobs well. So what do we do? How do we engage without becoming victims?
We control our engagements and, as I suggested in The Common Sense Guide for Writers, we write with passion and compassion--and that compassion includes being compassionate with ourselves. We write with passion or we aren't convincing. We write with compassion because those we write about deserve it--it's part of the respect package that every living thing deserves--and we, the human beings in the writers, require it.
So what we need are tools. Tips on how to do that. And what follows are a few. Note that most of these suggestions are perspectives and attitudes the writer can adopt. Note that they require perspective, mindset, discipline and compassion. Respect for self as well as others. Care, concern, compassion are as important as logic and analysis.
Tips:
1. Objective Observer. Yes, we study people, their behavior, their actions and motivations. Yes, studying them intently is essential to portraying them in our stories. We get up close and personal. But that doesn't mean that we absorb what we observe into ourselves. Only that we see, we recognize, we imagine.
Sometimes we do want to adopt new traits or opinions, ideas, attitudes as a result of our observations. But when we do, we should absorb those observations because they make us wiser and stronger people (positive attributes) and not negative ones.
So it's important to look at people's qualities--good and bad--and to seek to understand them. But it isn't essential to us to make them our own. We have to try to be objective observers.
Seek the truth, see the truth, and know the truth. We relate it in our stories. But choose not to accept and absorb the negative aspects of that truth. It is not a part of us and can't become a part of us unless we choose to make it so. Choose to be an objective observer.
2. Like attracts like. Whether it's a magnet or thoughts, like attracts like. If you focus intently on negative qualities in people or in situations, that's what attracts you.and what is attracted to you. It's universal law. It's scientifically explained. If all you're seeing are bad qualities, it's not because that's all there is, but it's all that's attracted your attention and to all that you're attracted.
Our protection is in turning this around and playing the flip side. Imagine a set of scales. One side is heavy with Bad qualities. The other side is empty. But if you place Good qualities on that side, the scales achieve balance.
So make a conscious effort balance the scales. That is essential to all human beings but particularly to those of us who spend so much of our time and lives in creative pursuits. Study bad qualities. But deliberately study good qualities, too.
Some writers are more susceptible to negative influences than others. If you're extremely susceptible, then know it and actively counter it with balance. The fix need not be anything elaborate. In your mind, put a good quality on the scale. Or use a simple list. For each negative quality you add to the list, in an opposing column add a positive one. If the influence isn't that strong, then study and balance simply by noticing the good qualities in others.
Little things make an enormous impact, particularly in comparison. An example: Today, I was watching the 9/11 coverage on the news. The tragic loss of life, the irrationality of bombing innocents, people jumping out of the towers, all the orphans and widowers and widows... I was as outraged as the day it all happened. Totally inflamed. And then on the screen before my eyes, I saw President Bush shaking hands with people. He stopped to talk to a teenage girl. She bent his ear a good while. He teared up, hugged her, talked and listened and hugged her again, giving her shoulder a fatherly, comforting pat. He walked down that line of people, hugging, kissing cheeks, comforting and caring. Now I won't say I always agree with this man, but I will say that he's a good comforter. I saw the change in the expressions in these people. I saw him tear up with them. And I suddenly noticed that I wasn't as angry. Resolved, yes, as much as ever. After all, the bastards want us dead. But the anger had softened under compassion's hand.
The lesson in that is to engage but let compassion's hand soften so that you understand what you're engaging from an insider's perspective (passion) but compassion allows you to have a more balanced reaction.
3. We see what we expect to see. When you're looking at human beings expecting to see bad qualities, you will. You'll miss seeing the good (even a stopped clock is right twice a day, so there is good in everything) because you expect to see bad.
I'm reminded here of the self-fulfilled prophesy. "I can't do it, I can't do it, I can't do it." Tell yourself (or someone else) that enough, and they will be believe you. So much so that it'll come to pass--you or they can't do it--because your faith in it happening (or not happening) was resolute.
I don't recall who said this, but I've had it written on my favorite quotes wall for years. "Image it and it will be." We create first in thought and then act to make it manifest. That holds true whether we are manifesting something bad or good.
You made a conscious effort to notice the bad. Thought it, then acted on it. You created that notice of the bad. Make that same conscious effort to notice the good. You know you can create it--you've done it already so it is possible to create the notice in good. In creating both, you achieve balance.
We do see what we expect to see, so expect to see good.
I know a young man who had a penchant for trouble. Others expected him to get into trouble and he didn't disappoint them. When I was consulted on how to help him turn his life around, my advice was simple: Expect his best--and let him know it.
He'll make mistakes, we all do. But when he does, let him scrape his knees and then help him up and love him through it. Just never stop expecting his best. Why?
Expecting his best is expressing faith in him. Belief in his abilities, capabilities and his judgment. It's saying, "I believe in you." And that inspires people to rise to the occasion, to prove to themselves and to you that your faith in them is well placed. It must be sincere. It must be honest. But faith can and does move mountains.
You see, the truth is that you can't change someone else's course. Only they are at the helm of their ship, making their choices. But you can inspire them to make wise choices, to consider wise choices worth making.
5. Goodness is like happiness. It doesn't come from without, it comes from within. It's a choice we make. We can be good or see good with the same ease we can be or see bad. We decide.
In the 9/11 film footage yesterday, one viewed and experienced many emotions. Shock, fear, outrage--moments of unstinting heroism, deep sadness, great tenderness. In many, suffering the worst brought out the best.
Some experienced the full range of emotions witnessed, conjured. Some got stuck on shock or fear. Some were numb to the shock and outrage but deeply moved by heroism. Some mourned again, as if not five years but five minutes had passed.
Each person chose their reaction. Whether that reaction was deliberate and conscious or unconscious; one s/he drifted into and just stayed. Remember, no choice is a choice.
I've seen people whose lives were destroyed. Who had lost everything they owned. Who were dying and knew it. And they were happy. Not at the destruction or loss or at their own deaths, but at the choices they'd made and the lives they'd lived. They looked at their big picture--their entire life--and not the single if significant event--and had few regrets.
There is power in choice. Every day when you wake up, before you put your feet on the floor, you can choose to see good in people today. You can be determined to notice random acts of kindness, kindnesses, the things people do to reach out to one other.
I'm not suggesting you play ostrich and bury your head in the sand against anything bad. I'm not suggesting you play Pollyanna and pretend the bad doesn't exist. I am suggesting that you choose how you react to good or bad. You choose how much of your focus and attention and emotion you grant it. Choose to see good in people. It's there. Waiting to be noticed and taken out for a spin.
4. Define good. Society gives us what it deems definitions of good and bad. From the cradle to adulthood others define it, and the older we get, the more definitions we have because our circle of influence widens.
But their comes a time in our lives we don't just accept or reject others' definitions. We create our own. And, while we're not to judge others because we don't walk in their shoes, know all they know, feel all they feel, we do make judgment values.
Those values vary from person to person. We're human, so we have a lot in common, and that typically extends to the judgment values we place on good and bad. But we have differences, too.
For example: One man's terrorist is another's freedom fighter. One's act of kindness is other's interference. One's compliment is another's insult.
In the same day, based on the same post, I've received notes that I'm a bleeding heart liberal and an uptight conservative. An idealist and too rooted in reality. I've gotten notes on my books that claim I know exactly what it's like to be in that position, and ones that say I don't have a clue.
The posts and the works haven't changed. What is different is people's perceptions. Their value judgments.
I can't make value judgments for others. I wouldn't presume to do that, or do it even if I had the power or ability to do so. That's each individual's right and responsibility. And isn't it wonderful that it is?
You must decide what is good and what is bad. And resolve yourself to being aware of the difference. Goodness is within and without in equal measure. You can seek it in yourself, encourage it to emerge and nurture it--in yourself and in others. Or not. You choose.
All of this said, remember that we're all human. We have flaws or we wouldn't be, we'd be perfect. Judge harshly and you will see more flaws than goodness. But goodness is still there.
And so I close, hoping that this has been helpful. That it's been enough, and it offers you the tools you need to again achieve balance. I hope that something in it inspires you to seek the good in people. Otherwise, you're headed for a lonely, bitter existence. And that would be a tragic loss, to and for you, and for others whose lives you might have touched.
Blessings,
Vicki
Vicki Hinze
Writing: Web Blog
www.vickihinze.com
Radio: Web Blog Listen
www.everydaywomanradio.com
Friday, September 08, 2006
QUALIFICATIONS? None . . . Yet
Warning: this is a no-edit zone....
I came across the following quote this morning:
"A great pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do." --Walter Bagehot
It made me smile. Why? Because it sent me back in time. Not literally, of course, but in my mind. I thought of the first job I had in a legal office. The senior partner was a state representative named Dempsey. I well remember our first meeting.
I had started work there and he'd been away; congress had been in session. So I'm at my desk, and this strange man walks into my office. He has a bright, sunny smile, a welcome and "I'm glad to be here" attitude. "Hi," he says. "And who are you?"
"I'm Vicki Hinze," I said. "And who are you?"
"Dempsey," he said. "And what are your qualifications?"
I didn't recognize the senior partner's name. Didn't expect to see him there, and the name just didn't connect. "I don't have any," I said, thinking this visitor was certainly impertinent, asking me a question like that. The horrible thing was that it was true. I didn't have any qualifications for doing the job I'd been hired to do. But I'd told them that if they'd take a shot on me, I'd work hard and learn; they had my promise on that.
Dempsey clearly hadn't been alerted to that promise. He gave me the strangest look and a long, pregnant moment passed. "Well," he said. "That's blunt."
"Unfortunately, it's true, too."
"Do you want to learn?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. The light bulb had finally clicked on, and I realized I was talking to the head honcho, and I was nearly certain he was going to show me the door.
We talked for a few minutes more, and then he looked me in the eye and said, "Never again are you going to have to tell anyone you have no qualifications."
I didn't know what to say. What can you say to a man who makes you that kind of promise?
Dempsey put me in the office law library and for the next six weeks, he paid me to study. At the end of the day, we'd talk about what I'd studied, and he--and the other partners and associates--would answer my questions. They had a project: me. And the firm's objective was to educate Vicki.
I learned. Boy, did I learn. And eventually I taught other attorneys how to handle real estate property closings, escrows, trusts, title challenges. I acted as an agent for a corporate computer giant in an acquisition it made, and for the U.S. in its acquisition of property for the environmental protection of an endangered species. Commercial transactions and personal injury, liability cases--all manner of things once alien to me.
They brought in a CPA to teach me accounting, so I could audit the books. They brought in insurance underwriters to teach me the significance of their rules and regulations. And then Dempsey asked me to read proposed legislation that came through to him for consideration and to do a one-page opinion report, pro or con on the proposition.
I was in heaven. It had to be heaven. Me, a political junkie, with a congressman's ear and he would hear my opinions? Not just hear, but listen? Picture me elated.
When I told Dempsey I was expecting a baby, he said, "Well, we'll build a nursery and get a nanny and you can be with her as much as you like."
No one was doing that in those days. No one. But, as surely you've noticed, Dempsey didn't follow the pack. He did things his way, and his way helped people to become better, wiser, and stronger. He didn't give you a fish. He taught you how to fish--and gave you the bait to put on your hook.
I would have worked there until he or I died of old age. But my husband was active duty military and he got orders. Dempsey offered me law school, to fly my husband home on weekends--all manner of things--but in the end, we knew it had to be family first.
I've seen Dempsey many times since then, and thought of him many, many times more. His determination to help a young woman get qualified literally changed my life.
He was a wonderful mentor--not just in terms of work but in terms of being a good human being. I learned a lot from him. Helping others. The power of having faith in someone, in investing in them. How that seed of faith can spur them to tackle other challenges. Like college. Like writing books. Like any of the thousand other things I've done that without the confidence to try I might never have done.
My father taught me not to fear failure; it's a natural part of growth, like exhaling when you breathe. Can't inhale without exhaling, too; your lungs would explode. (See the balance? Can't have success without failure. Doesn't work.)
Dempsey taught me to define specific objectives and then aggressively pursue them.
Both men looked out to others and in to themselves. They lived by strong codes of ethics--their own--and with integrity, doing what they felt was right and important in their daily lives.
Both men had good hearts. And that's why Walter Bagehot's quote triggered memories in me and I'm for the millionth time sitting here feeling a bit awestricken and incredibly humble.
It is a great pleasure in life to do that which others say you cannot. Not for the mere sake of defiance--there's no glory in being outside the box for the mere sake of being outside the box--but for the sake of greater purpose. Because greater purpose is served in the accomplishment that can only be reached by being outside the box.
At one time, Dempsey, who'd had polio as a kid and carried the challenges from it, had been told what he couldn't do. He could never qualify. He disputed it, and did it anyway. He failed his way to success. And then he extended a hand to others, and I was so lucky to be one of them.
He never mentioned to me that he'd learned the lessons he taught firsthand. I learned that from his partner, and that there were others like me, that he'd taken on to help get qualified in one way or another.
If I'd thought about it, I would have realized that. His insights were too perceptive for an outsider, so to speak. I did once ask him why he was doing all this for me. He just smiled.
As time passed and I matured, I realized why Dempsey did all he did. Many times, I've imagined him looking at me with a knowing twinkle in his eye and that cocky pitch in his voice. "Why am I doing this?" He softly chuckles. "Because I can."
I've never again had to tell anyone that I have no qualifications. I have Dempsey to thank for that. He kept his promise.
I've tried to play it forward. In the years since, I've tackled many things that were new to me (and will continue to do so, I expect, until I die). The thing that makes people (or characters) frigid and afraid to try new things is fear. They feel inadequate, inferior--unqualified.
But what Dempsey taught me that they might not know is this: When we first try something new, we are ALL unqualified. and the only way to get qualified is by doing it.
So why worry and why wait? Jump in and get started. If you screw up, well, you're exhaling. Learn from it, take your next breath and press on. Get qualified as you go.
And if someone should ask, "What are your qualifications?" Tell them the truth: "I don't have any . . . yet."
You might be talking to a Dempsey.
Or if you're the one asking the question?
Consider becoming a Dempsey.
Reshaping a life is no small thing. Your immortal mark is made in the hearts of those you help. And so inspired by you, through them, your ripple goes on.
And that's what's on my mind this morning...
Blessings,
Vicki
Vicki Hinze
Writing: Web Blog
Radio: Web Blog Listen
www.vickihinze.com
www.everydaywomanradio.com
I came across the following quote this morning:
"A great pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do." --Walter Bagehot
It made me smile. Why? Because it sent me back in time. Not literally, of course, but in my mind. I thought of the first job I had in a legal office. The senior partner was a state representative named Dempsey. I well remember our first meeting.
I had started work there and he'd been away; congress had been in session. So I'm at my desk, and this strange man walks into my office. He has a bright, sunny smile, a welcome and "I'm glad to be here" attitude. "Hi," he says. "And who are you?"
"I'm Vicki Hinze," I said. "And who are you?"
"Dempsey," he said. "And what are your qualifications?"
I didn't recognize the senior partner's name. Didn't expect to see him there, and the name just didn't connect. "I don't have any," I said, thinking this visitor was certainly impertinent, asking me a question like that. The horrible thing was that it was true. I didn't have any qualifications for doing the job I'd been hired to do. But I'd told them that if they'd take a shot on me, I'd work hard and learn; they had my promise on that.
Dempsey clearly hadn't been alerted to that promise. He gave me the strangest look and a long, pregnant moment passed. "Well," he said. "That's blunt."
"Unfortunately, it's true, too."
"Do you want to learn?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. The light bulb had finally clicked on, and I realized I was talking to the head honcho, and I was nearly certain he was going to show me the door.
We talked for a few minutes more, and then he looked me in the eye and said, "Never again are you going to have to tell anyone you have no qualifications."
I didn't know what to say. What can you say to a man who makes you that kind of promise?
Dempsey put me in the office law library and for the next six weeks, he paid me to study. At the end of the day, we'd talk about what I'd studied, and he--and the other partners and associates--would answer my questions. They had a project: me. And the firm's objective was to educate Vicki.
I learned. Boy, did I learn. And eventually I taught other attorneys how to handle real estate property closings, escrows, trusts, title challenges. I acted as an agent for a corporate computer giant in an acquisition it made, and for the U.S. in its acquisition of property for the environmental protection of an endangered species. Commercial transactions and personal injury, liability cases--all manner of things once alien to me.
They brought in a CPA to teach me accounting, so I could audit the books. They brought in insurance underwriters to teach me the significance of their rules and regulations. And then Dempsey asked me to read proposed legislation that came through to him for consideration and to do a one-page opinion report, pro or con on the proposition.
I was in heaven. It had to be heaven. Me, a political junkie, with a congressman's ear and he would hear my opinions? Not just hear, but listen? Picture me elated.
When I told Dempsey I was expecting a baby, he said, "Well, we'll build a nursery and get a nanny and you can be with her as much as you like."
No one was doing that in those days. No one. But, as surely you've noticed, Dempsey didn't follow the pack. He did things his way, and his way helped people to become better, wiser, and stronger. He didn't give you a fish. He taught you how to fish--and gave you the bait to put on your hook.
I would have worked there until he or I died of old age. But my husband was active duty military and he got orders. Dempsey offered me law school, to fly my husband home on weekends--all manner of things--but in the end, we knew it had to be family first.
I've seen Dempsey many times since then, and thought of him many, many times more. His determination to help a young woman get qualified literally changed my life.
He was a wonderful mentor--not just in terms of work but in terms of being a good human being. I learned a lot from him. Helping others. The power of having faith in someone, in investing in them. How that seed of faith can spur them to tackle other challenges. Like college. Like writing books. Like any of the thousand other things I've done that without the confidence to try I might never have done.
My father taught me not to fear failure; it's a natural part of growth, like exhaling when you breathe. Can't inhale without exhaling, too; your lungs would explode. (See the balance? Can't have success without failure. Doesn't work.)
Dempsey taught me to define specific objectives and then aggressively pursue them.
Both men looked out to others and in to themselves. They lived by strong codes of ethics--their own--and with integrity, doing what they felt was right and important in their daily lives.
Both men had good hearts. And that's why Walter Bagehot's quote triggered memories in me and I'm for the millionth time sitting here feeling a bit awestricken and incredibly humble.
It is a great pleasure in life to do that which others say you cannot. Not for the mere sake of defiance--there's no glory in being outside the box for the mere sake of being outside the box--but for the sake of greater purpose. Because greater purpose is served in the accomplishment that can only be reached by being outside the box.
At one time, Dempsey, who'd had polio as a kid and carried the challenges from it, had been told what he couldn't do. He could never qualify. He disputed it, and did it anyway. He failed his way to success. And then he extended a hand to others, and I was so lucky to be one of them.
He never mentioned to me that he'd learned the lessons he taught firsthand. I learned that from his partner, and that there were others like me, that he'd taken on to help get qualified in one way or another.
If I'd thought about it, I would have realized that. His insights were too perceptive for an outsider, so to speak. I did once ask him why he was doing all this for me. He just smiled.
As time passed and I matured, I realized why Dempsey did all he did. Many times, I've imagined him looking at me with a knowing twinkle in his eye and that cocky pitch in his voice. "Why am I doing this?" He softly chuckles. "Because I can."
I've never again had to tell anyone that I have no qualifications. I have Dempsey to thank for that. He kept his promise.
I've tried to play it forward. In the years since, I've tackled many things that were new to me (and will continue to do so, I expect, until I die). The thing that makes people (or characters) frigid and afraid to try new things is fear. They feel inadequate, inferior--unqualified.
But what Dempsey taught me that they might not know is this: When we first try something new, we are ALL unqualified. and the only way to get qualified is by doing it.
So why worry and why wait? Jump in and get started. If you screw up, well, you're exhaling. Learn from it, take your next breath and press on. Get qualified as you go.
And if someone should ask, "What are your qualifications?" Tell them the truth: "I don't have any . . . yet."
You might be talking to a Dempsey.
Or if you're the one asking the question?
Consider becoming a Dempsey.
Reshaping a life is no small thing. Your immortal mark is made in the hearts of those you help. And so inspired by you, through them, your ripple goes on.
And that's what's on my mind this morning...
Blessings,
Vicki
Vicki Hinze
Writing: Web Blog
Radio: Web Blog Listen
www.vickihinze.com
www.everydaywomanradio.com
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
WRITING CHARACTERS: THE POWER OF CHOICE
Warning: This is a no-edit zone....
I received an interesting question from a writer this morning that related to character. And as I worked through the psychological forces that would develop a character of that specific nature who would logically fit into her specific novel situation, given her specific personal history--a history that would foster sufficient and realistic motivation for her actions in the novel events--it became apparent that far more goes into forming our attitudes and forging those hot buttons we all have than our personal experiences.
Those are significant, no doubt about it, but we also have very real innate tendencies to craft and frame events in such a way that we don't feel badly about ourselves. We justify our actions--whether or not they can be justified through a clear eye. And we rationalize, if that's required to make whatever we do seem logical, reasonable, warranted and fair.
Why do we do that?
Well, there are a variety of schools of thought on this. Some say we start out in life adopting the social attitudes, morals and ethics of our family members or principle caregivers. As we grow up and our exposure to others occurs, we expand that sphere of influence. And then as adults, when our sphere of influence is at its broadest, we then revisit those attitudes, morals and ethics and beliefs passed to us by others and we examine them closely, debating and finally deciding which ones we want to keep, which ones we want to ditch or replace and what exactly we want to replace them with.
Now it's at this point that a lot of people suffer, well, let's call it stunted growth. They don't want to grow up. They don't want to accept responsibility for their own actions. So they go through a "growing process" of sorts, blaming everyone else for everything bad that's ever happened in their lives, and every mistake they've made, and every problem they have had or will have in the future.
We all know people like that, I'm sorry to say. They just never quite get it that having that broadest influence as an adult opens the door beyond who did what to us as kids. We're accountable. And responsible. And every day we make choices--some good, some not--but they are our choices and we take both the kudos and the hits for them. That's being an adult. And the bottom line is no one reaches or survives puberty without having to deal with something.
Yet, while all of this is true, it still isn't just those things that shape and mold us into the people we become. The truth is also in nebulous events that happen to others. In how those we respect or admire or those we want to emulate conduct themselves and their lives. People who are not necessarily in our sphere, but ones we observe from a distance.
People who inspire or repulse us. People we love or hate. People we never meet or know who might have lived in another time or distant place, but through some means touched us.
If you look at this, what you see--or what I saw--is that loving or hating has equal power to instill determination and declarations in people. Think back for a second. Do you ever recall yourself saying, "When I have kids, I'll never do that!"
Think again. When you thought that thought, or made that comment, was in always in reaction to something that had been done to you? Your parent treating you in a way you didn't like? It's just as likely that you were shopping in a store and saw a stranger say or do something to his/her kid that set off an emotional reaction in you.
I remember once when I was very young--grade school at best. I found a wallet in a department store with a great deal of money in it. I debated keeping it. We were poor and that money would have been really useful. But it was wrong, and I couldn't make myself do that. So I turned it in to a security guard posted near the front of the store. As I watched, he opened it and removed the money, shoved it into his pocket, then announced a wallet had been found. He stole the money. A man in uniform stole the money.
I was appalled, and to this day, I see this man's face clearly. The event happened decades ago. The result walks with me today. A few years ago, I picked up a book at the grocery store, put it in the baby carrier, front part of the shopping cart with my purse. When I paid for the groceries, I missed the book. And when I loaded them into the car, I found the book and knew I hadn't paid for it.
My first thought was, "Oh, hell. It's just a few dollars." But that man's face flashed through my mind, and I got that same sick, thief feeling. So I walked back into the store with the book, waited in line for ten minutes, then explained to the cashier what happened, who called the manager and told him, and finally I paid for the book.
My ice-cream had melted in the hot car. But when it froze again I could swallow it.
Now the guard at the store didn't know me, or me him. But decades after an incident that he isn't aware even happened (me seeing him take that money), I'm still aware of it and emotionally reacting to it. The incident still carries impact.
Some would consider the event negative. A kid seeing a grown-up guard steal surely can't be considered a good thing. And yet the emotional reaction the event incited in me has been positive. Many times over the years, I've given back money when handed the wrong amount of change, looked for rightful owners of things, and so forth.
If that incident hadn't occurred, would I still have taken the extra pains to do so? Would stealing still be as repulsive to me? I don't honestly know. It did happen. It is repulsive. But because I still see the man's face clearly in my mind, and because unrelated incidents still trigger that emotional repulsion to his stealing, I'd say the impression was firmly implanted and likely does impact.
That's the heart of why we need to consider these little, seemingly insignificant events that happen with strangers and grasp their powerful ability to motivate characters. Too often, we think of family and friends and never consider strangers as strong influences or motivators. But they are for people, and that means they can and should be for characters, too.
And that's what's on my mind this morning....
Blessings,
Vicki
Vicki Hinze
www.vickihinze.com
www.everydayradio.com
I received an interesting question from a writer this morning that related to character. And as I worked through the psychological forces that would develop a character of that specific nature who would logically fit into her specific novel situation, given her specific personal history--a history that would foster sufficient and realistic motivation for her actions in the novel events--it became apparent that far more goes into forming our attitudes and forging those hot buttons we all have than our personal experiences.
Those are significant, no doubt about it, but we also have very real innate tendencies to craft and frame events in such a way that we don't feel badly about ourselves. We justify our actions--whether or not they can be justified through a clear eye. And we rationalize, if that's required to make whatever we do seem logical, reasonable, warranted and fair.
Why do we do that?
Well, there are a variety of schools of thought on this. Some say we start out in life adopting the social attitudes, morals and ethics of our family members or principle caregivers. As we grow up and our exposure to others occurs, we expand that sphere of influence. And then as adults, when our sphere of influence is at its broadest, we then revisit those attitudes, morals and ethics and beliefs passed to us by others and we examine them closely, debating and finally deciding which ones we want to keep, which ones we want to ditch or replace and what exactly we want to replace them with.
Now it's at this point that a lot of people suffer, well, let's call it stunted growth. They don't want to grow up. They don't want to accept responsibility for their own actions. So they go through a "growing process" of sorts, blaming everyone else for everything bad that's ever happened in their lives, and every mistake they've made, and every problem they have had or will have in the future.
We all know people like that, I'm sorry to say. They just never quite get it that having that broadest influence as an adult opens the door beyond who did what to us as kids. We're accountable. And responsible. And every day we make choices--some good, some not--but they are our choices and we take both the kudos and the hits for them. That's being an adult. And the bottom line is no one reaches or survives puberty without having to deal with something.
Yet, while all of this is true, it still isn't just those things that shape and mold us into the people we become. The truth is also in nebulous events that happen to others. In how those we respect or admire or those we want to emulate conduct themselves and their lives. People who are not necessarily in our sphere, but ones we observe from a distance.
People who inspire or repulse us. People we love or hate. People we never meet or know who might have lived in another time or distant place, but through some means touched us.
If you look at this, what you see--or what I saw--is that loving or hating has equal power to instill determination and declarations in people. Think back for a second. Do you ever recall yourself saying, "When I have kids, I'll never do that!"
Think again. When you thought that thought, or made that comment, was in always in reaction to something that had been done to you? Your parent treating you in a way you didn't like? It's just as likely that you were shopping in a store and saw a stranger say or do something to his/her kid that set off an emotional reaction in you.
I remember once when I was very young--grade school at best. I found a wallet in a department store with a great deal of money in it. I debated keeping it. We were poor and that money would have been really useful. But it was wrong, and I couldn't make myself do that. So I turned it in to a security guard posted near the front of the store. As I watched, he opened it and removed the money, shoved it into his pocket, then announced a wallet had been found. He stole the money. A man in uniform stole the money.
I was appalled, and to this day, I see this man's face clearly. The event happened decades ago. The result walks with me today. A few years ago, I picked up a book at the grocery store, put it in the baby carrier, front part of the shopping cart with my purse. When I paid for the groceries, I missed the book. And when I loaded them into the car, I found the book and knew I hadn't paid for it.
My first thought was, "Oh, hell. It's just a few dollars." But that man's face flashed through my mind, and I got that same sick, thief feeling. So I walked back into the store with the book, waited in line for ten minutes, then explained to the cashier what happened, who called the manager and told him, and finally I paid for the book.
My ice-cream had melted in the hot car. But when it froze again I could swallow it.
Now the guard at the store didn't know me, or me him. But decades after an incident that he isn't aware even happened (me seeing him take that money), I'm still aware of it and emotionally reacting to it. The incident still carries impact.
Some would consider the event negative. A kid seeing a grown-up guard steal surely can't be considered a good thing. And yet the emotional reaction the event incited in me has been positive. Many times over the years, I've given back money when handed the wrong amount of change, looked for rightful owners of things, and so forth.
If that incident hadn't occurred, would I still have taken the extra pains to do so? Would stealing still be as repulsive to me? I don't honestly know. It did happen. It is repulsive. But because I still see the man's face clearly in my mind, and because unrelated incidents still trigger that emotional repulsion to his stealing, I'd say the impression was firmly implanted and likely does impact.
That's the heart of why we need to consider these little, seemingly insignificant events that happen with strangers and grasp their powerful ability to motivate characters. Too often, we think of family and friends and never consider strangers as strong influences or motivators. But they are for people, and that means they can and should be for characters, too.
And that's what's on my mind this morning....
Blessings,
Vicki
Vicki Hinze
www.vickihinze.com
www.everydayradio.com
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