River Jordan || Author, Speaker, Radio Personality

Ramblings. As in: Have Words -Will Ramble. As in: Ramble: to write or talk aimlessly or without sequence of ideas, to proceed with turns and twists; meander As In: observances of an everyday life in passing through the spectrum of extraordinary.

Writers Quotes and Notes

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Monday night I had the pleasure of hanging out and talking with the Nashville Writers Meetup Group at Borders West End. The only tiny problem was I left my notes, antedotes, quotes and so forth in the car. We pressed on in spite of this wild, gypsy soul of mine that cannot seem to be tied down unless I'm lost in fiction.

Here are a few of the things I wanted to share. Please take time to check out Ronlyn's piece on her second novel and Herman Kings appreciation for story.

A few links worth noting in a hurry:

A Good Blog Is Hard to Find (Southern authors blogging on writing and whatnot)

People Reading

Publishers Marketplace

Writers Digest

Jeff Herman's Guide to Book Publishers, Editors, and Agents

All Things Southern (Shellie Thomlinson's site)

Poets and Writers Magazine

Joshilyn Jackson (southern writer who blogs everyday and is too witty for words)

Memoir's - West With the Night, Beryl Markham; All Over But the Shoutin', Rick Bragg, A Girl Named Zippy, Haven Kimmel - (the list goes on and on and on)

Ella Minnow Pea (incredible little work of fiction - just out of the box original)

These are a few to get started. Hope you enjoy and that if you have time visit me at Davis Kidd on May 23 at 4pm at Green Hills Mall, Nashville for the local kick-off of Saints In Limbo! (Be sure and check out one of my favorite scenes in Chapter 7 that produced the line "I ain't your Moby Dick." just before a dirt flying tussle between two elderly best friends in the front yard. )

Ronlyn Domingue is the author of the critically acclaimed The Mercy of Thin Air now published in many languages worldwide. She also has a great link on her website For Writers and I think anyone interested in writing would appreciate the information listed there. This is what Ronlyn had to say on Myspace about her work in progress on her new novel:

Monday, April 20, 2009
The Search for Novel #2 Category: Writing and Poetry
On archaic maps, beyond the edge of the known world, cartographers sometimes wrote, Beyond here be dragons.For all they knew, that's what crept beyond the horizon.During the time I've worked on Novel #2, I too know what it's like to stand in that liminal space, my back to the known world, my eyes narrowed at the darkness. I know what it's like to be both places at once.Several weeks ago, I was somewhere in a part of Novel #2, close enough to it that I could almost see an object in a character's hand, but far enough away that my cat's terse "meerow" made me bolt a foot up from my chair.Did she, the cat, perhaps say, "Come back"? I wonder if what I was trying to see, I wasn't ready to behold at all. I do that with this book, push my way into its shadows. But as often, more often in fact, it pulls me into the shadows by force.This isn't the novel I wanted to write next. I had something else in mind, a character with a good sense of humor. He led me to learn the difference between environmentalism and ecology. He promised to teach me about music. Then he slipped away during the summer and fall of 2006. Into hiding. So there I was in October 2006, unsure what would take the other project's place. Then I rediscovered something I'd buried long ago. Yes, literally, I dusted off an old box and found a book I'd started many years earlier. I hardly remembered it. As I read through the old manuscript, I found a few characters and paragraphs I could salvage from my clueless beginnings. Within two days, the premise of the novel reinvented itself. Within two months, I'd tapped into a project deeper than any I'd ever attempted. Correction: Any I'd ever choose. Like THE MERCY OF THIN AIR, Novel #2 picked me, too.Novel #2 has a working title and quite a cast of characters. These days, I can say there are more places and events seen rather than unseen, but there are still pieces that are completely uncharted, territories it hasn't let me visit yet. Connections it hasn't revealed. Now and then, I'm asked what this book is about, and my reply is, "The book won't let me talk about it." If this comes off as coy or mysterious, that's not the intent. I do have a clue based on what Novel #2 has shown me so far. But this book demands something of me that MERCY did not--an understanding that things crack through darkness as much as light. Think deep space, soil, eggs, wombs. Think a waiting, reverent silence.I don't know how much more time Novel #2 will take to complete. MERCY took four years, approximately. This week, I'll mark the second year and sixth month of this (renewed) voyage. I've seen beauty that leaves me wondering how I'll find the words to describe it and terrible things that I wish could be left unspoken. Absolutely, I wish I knew when there will be a complete manuscript on my desk, a publication date on my calendar, a final book jacket design at the printer. Until then, I'll continue to move into the darkness, toward the unknown, until I find what I'm meant to tell the rest of the world I’ve seen. Wish me courage and a safe journey.

From Mr. Herman King of Memphis by email - a man who is a writer and a writer becoming, who teasures words and the people who write them:

Before leaving for the island last weekend, I set Mr. TIVO to record The Rose, starring Bette Middler. I always liked the movie and had not seen it in a while. Inspired by Janis Joplin and loosely based on her later, and too short life, the movie speaks a lot to the over-indulgent and wild seventies—my time. When things moved so fast, so wild, so beautiful, and so ugly—

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

I believe The Rose, is Bette Middler’s best work, both in music and theater. As I watched the credits roll by and listened to Amanda McBroom’s beautiful song—poem—story. I was struck how simple, yet how beautiful. She said the song sprung into her head in a car and she rushed home to write it--in ten minutes. Here is her story, an inspiration to all us writers. Her song an inspiration to all who believe.http://www.amcbroom.com/rose.html

In closing -
I hope some of the links and notes push you into deeper Places in your writing. I hope we always treasure the moments of your lives as much as our stories - and all will be well with us. We are really the neverending story unfolding. All of us in this together. Blessings.

Labels: agents, editors, publishers, southern authors, story, writing

posted by River Jordan at 10:37 AM 0 comments

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN A BUSH PILOT

Monday, April 20, 2009

That's it. That's the title of my talk at tonight's Writer's Round-up at Borders West End - Nashville. Because that's the way it is. Wayward neurotic writer staring out the window struggling with that next draft - or waiting in the dark for an agent like they are Prince Charming on a white horse that will whisk them away to the great Magical Neverland of Happy Forever. I should have been a Bush Pilot. Or a truck driver hurtling through the desert back roads. Or a librarian buried in the stacks of rare volumes. Or . . .

But writers don't get to many shouldhavebeens . . .

More chosen than choosing - writers are tapped with a type of madness at birth. I believe it I do. A madness that makes them live life and watch it happen at the same time. From the inside out with this ever increasing desire/leading/directive that they must tell the story. Write the words down. Pass them around.

Should this must do surface at five or fifty-five - who cares. Trust me, the earlier it surfaces the earlier people will think - bless her heart. Not much she can do. And the writing part isn't what's first evident. It's the sponge part. The quietly taking it all in part that sort of manifests as "Remember to put me in the corner," because the corner, where you face the wall and your mama and daddy have to face the other way - is where you can have peace and quiet and think strange and wondrous thoughts all by yourself. And, yes, this can cause a mother to worry.

But writers go on struggling to manifest words that capture the glory of the human condition whether it be a lifetime or a flashing single moment of glory.

And we're going to talk about those things and many others tonight at the speed of light. Then settle in our beds and let our own voices echo over our souls as we turn out the light. Then reach for a pen in the whispered darkness.

posted by River Jordan at 12:29 PM 1 comments

Ms. Fancy and Smarty Pants

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Many people reading my blog on a regular basis know that I have these two girls I call The Adorables and they have me - their ZaZa (or TaTa as the baby says) to adore and road trip with when they get out of jail - I mean school! Summertime afterall is made for lazy, hazy days of ice cream road trips filled with eating boiled peanut, singing with the windows down and loving life until you are just full and crazy. Last year the oldest Adorable had a chance to do all that and go to the beach, the zoo, the late, great Aunt Kates, Kung Fu Panda, Nana's house, and darn near anything else her heart desired. Upon the big return, baby put on her shoes, sans pants or diaper, and proceeded to take her naked butt to the car (shoes on of course), open the back door, get in, and sit quietly just knowing it was her road trip time.

Well- this year, the youngest Adorable gets to do just that under the watchful eye of her big sister who will I'm expecting call shotgun.

These chocolate bunny-eating, story-telling kids walk on water as far as I'm concerned. And they are in good company because just over the ridge from me live Miss Fancy and Smarty Pants, my niece and nephew respectively. They are bright and unusual and curious and beautiful and funny. Really funny. And they aren't trying to be. That's what just kills me.

For instance - the other morning Smarty Pants gets up and asks his mother how to Spell River (only it's Wiver right now in his four year old world. ) Mudder, he says, how do you spell Wiver and I don't mean a lake, a stream, or a body of water - I mean the human being that is in our family.

I'm supposing that would be me and you gotta love a kid that cares you are human.

This weekend I had a little quality one on one time with the reflective, observant, and ever wise style-master, Miss. Fancy. She looked at my car and declared it was a mess and needed some organizing - but in much better vernacular. Then she picked up a postcard of Saints In Limbo and asked me what that writing on the back was. I told her it was an address. She said, Hmmmm, I write better than this.

Indeed. She does.

Then she picked up a bookmark that features both the book cover and my author photo that publishers love and I don't cotton too so much - because . . .

She says - You look very pretty.

And I say- Thank you.

She stares at it for awhile and says - It's amazing, it looks like a totally different person.

Do tell. Out of the mouth of babes and wise ones. And you can take those words to the bank.

Be good now and hold on - surely, I say surely - Spring is just around the corner.

Labels: Ms. Fancy, Smarty Pants, The Adorables

posted by River Jordan at 4:30 PM 0 comments

Nights in Nashville

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

As you may know from blog reading - we've had company a bit with writers Carolyn and Joi visiting on their trip through from New York. Well, you will see from the pictures that we did a few Nashville things. The Loveless - pass the biscuits and yes and Amen - and also tripped through the Parthenon, the train station, and one of the bars along Broadway near Tootsies and I should have snapped more pictures. Well, husbands best good buddy from from PA showed up and so last night we did the Nights in Nashville thing - again.

Visited B.B. Kings where there was an awesome band playing. But leave it to me to trip on down stairs where NO ONE was playing and step into that great dark cavern with a stage but no people that reminded me totally of playwright/theatre days and I longed for a dark, empty stage full of the possibility of new words. The kind where playwrights and directors sit in the dark and eat it up imagining what's to come - actors, stage hands, rehearsals, stories. Who knows, is playwrighting in my future and not just my past? I''ll have to get back to that but for now Saints In Limbo takes front and center stage with the May 5 date approaching and folks asking for me to hit the road and meet readers far and wide. And how can I resist that kind of road trip -I mean really????

Oh we also dropped in on the Train Station hotel and found Jack to greet us in the hotel lobby bar. Story is it was painted by THE Ron the Rolling Stone is part owner or something in the place and who also does a pretty great job of capturing Jack in all his weird and wonderful.

But the night's highlight was returning to friend and recording artist/songwriter Jeff's house and have him serenade us with song on his very own wonderful Baby Grand. Now, that's the kind of nightcap I can handle.

Today - Spring teases us again in Nashville. We might just believe it this time!

Labels: B.B. King, blues, Jack Nicholson, Nashville

posted by River Jordan at 11:08 AM 0 comments

Blue Skies on the Cumberland

Monday, April 06, 2009

Okay - we almost had spring in Nashville - and that's what I said - ALMOST. When we heard ice/snow/winter was upon us again - husband and I decided to abandon all chores and head out with Titan for a walk along the Cumberland River under the big sky.
It was a day worth of a few pictures in spite of someone telling me hurry up all the time.
Titan took a swim and decided to fetch the closest stick to him to keep from drowning in the rapids. (And some people say he might not be real smart - is too!)

Birds, blue skies, a rambling path. All good medicine for the soul. Now, it's icing.
But the good man has piled firewood by the door and readied the fireplace. Company cometh and the cupboard is full.

Now, time to feet up and crack open a good story. Something worthy of good soul on an icy, windy night.

Labels: Blue Skies on the Cumberland, Nashville, Reading

posted by River Jordan at 4:01 PM 0 comments

Getting Lost At Churches Without Any Clues

Friday, April 03, 2009

There I was lost Sunday morning. Just trying to get somewhere that was considered a Holy House of God. Left husband catching up on his green energy work stuff and took my determined self out the door to go visit a little church nearby. Pick out my best black clothes. Something that makes me look more woman than gypsy writer girl. I figure I'm going to visit nothing to do but walk up in there - and I did. There was one Revered and one woman who might have been of hmmm, let's say, retirement age. They said some folks this Sunday were on vacation. Now I am fine worshiping along with 2 or 3 people. I like a crowd of two or three. That's good with me. But then we had to sing. From the hymnal not the Allman Brothers. What I don't do well is sing. For instance - the last time I remember rocking my then three year old son to sleep he placed his little fingers over my mouth and said, "Don't sing mommy, don't sing." A born critic. All these years later I'm still singing in the sly in the car on my own. But here I am at church where we must sing - aloud, without a choir or band for backup. Without a crowd. And when I try to drop my off-key voice to a whisper they drop theirs too to make certain I'm singing along. No wonder when they decided to sing Amazing Grace the Reverend said, Thank you, Jesus! well into the first verse. I knew it was because it was the only tune I could carry considering I have sung it at every funeral I've gone to since I was three years old my own self. Lord have mercy. Someday we'll be in the host of band of angels and it won't matter what any of us sing like. Till then - us tuneless folks will try to keep our humming and singing along with our ipods to ourselves in the safety of our own bubbles.

And if you want to know what else I've been up to . . . after slamming a huge deadline right up until the moment author Carolyn Turgeon hit town - (you can see that she and Titan our wonder dog hit it off right away and are seeing eye-to-eye) I ran around with Carolyn and her wonderful, friend Joi as they were on their way from New York to Kansas by way of Dollywood to meet Joi's true love. (The girl is moving to Kansas from New York in a reverse going to Oz story.) While on her recent trip to Nashville while the ladies discovered our friendly city, Carolyn signed copies of her latest novel Godmother all over town. And in the midst of that I jolted them to Nashville Library, met the Julie Burns librarian extradanoire for a bite at the Brewery (for the record - she wasn't drinking!), had latte's at Province, whipped laptops out like geeks everywhere, dropped by the Parthenon, ran to the Post office and popped into the Old Train station hotel bar, dashed to Mirrors for dinner took in a few sites on Broadway on the country side of things, and oh, yes, had to eat some biscuits at Loveless Cafe and call it a day. They headed off toward Kansas then in real tornado weather. Was happy to hear they landed safely in Graceland for the night.

The first beautiful copy of Saints In Limbo just rolled across my door today. All is right with the world for a little while. Think I'll put my feet up on the porch and call it a day. Be good to you and yours.

Don't forget that Saints In Limbo debuts in just a few short weeks on May 5. Jump over to the calendar to see where the book and yours truly will be showing up next. Sure hope that you can visit if you are in Nashville! If not, look for me coming to a town near you this summer.