A NEW USE FOR THE HASHTAG #NOFILTER

A popular Instagram #hashtag these days is #nofilter, indicating that the beauty captured by the photographer in the posted photo is completely natural, without any augmentation by the application's supplied "filters" for editing. The #nofilter means that, in contrast with other doctored photos on the site, the photo bearing this hashtag is more worthy of awe.

I find it amusing to ponder another meaning of "no filter": the meaning applied to people who have no sense of what NOT to share in public. Wouldn't it be appropriate to add #nofilter to the comments sections of posts on Facebook, Tumbler, and Twitter in which people post excessively intimate confessions, hateful rants, sexually explicit photos, grossly descriptive medical information, and mean-spirited gossip? And to be sure that the hashtag's non-photographic meaning is understood, an accompanying hashtag could appear: #TMI (for Too Much Information). Instead of cringing as we read lengthy posts featuring someone's blow-by-blow bout of gastrointestinal problems, recollections of extreme familial dysfunction, or bigoted diatribes tantamount to verbal hate crimes, we would simply add to the comments section #nofilter to alert the post-writer to the fact they he/she has offended us. In this way, offended folks could avoid further pollution of the internet with their own unfiltered retorts to TMI, as well as avoid prematurely"unfriending" someone before giving the offender a chance to reform via a polite hashtag reminder. 

Just a whimsical thought for the day...

If you leave me a #nofilter message in the comments section, I'll consider self-editing for the future! (; 

New Haikued View Sparked by One Memorable Word--Oubliette!

While reading GONE GIRL, by Gillian Flynn, I came across an unfamiliar word that I paused to look up: OUBLIETTE. Images of oubliettes led to poetic verbal images in haikus, and final to this poem, prompted by one memorable word!

Haikued View from an Oubliette

 by S. L. Lipson

Conceived in a room,

We start our lives in darkness

Shackled by a cord.

Concealed in that womb,

Till light fills the oubliette—

  Walls quake and free us.

Contained by no one,

We reach for others, and yet,

Live behind new walls.

Connected by windows,

   Lest despair's fog makes them walls--

A mind's oubliette.

                   

   

Consoled when fresh rain

      Defogs our glass, refracts light,   

                                                                   Refreshes our view.

Reborn throughout life

Climbing walls, we gasp for breath—

For new light each day.

WHAT SINGLE, MEMORABLE WORD HAS INSPIRED YOUR POETRY? Feel free to share one below (and to share my poem with other poetry lovers)!

Memorable Words from Murder Victims' Families

After the recent murders of three Israeli teens, allegedly by Hamas terrorists, followed by the revenge murder of an Arab teen, allegedly by right-wing radical Israelis, I read articles that quoted two family members from each side of the conflict. I was struck by their commonalities, which cried out for juxtaposition, to make a point.

The Israeli uncle of Naftali Fraenkel, and the Arab father of Muhammad Abu Khdeir BOTH shared similarly admirable, passionately pacifist words, despite the unimaginable tragedies they are both enduring since the murders of their boys:

Naftali Fraenkel’s uncle stated in response to Muhammad's killing, “Murder is murder. Whatever the nationality or age are, there is no justification, no forgiveness or penance for any murder.”

Muhammad Abu Khdeir's father stated, “I am against kidnapping and killing. Whether Jew or Arab, who can accept the kidnapping and killing of his son or daughter? I call on both sides to stop the bloodshed.”

If these two men, in the midst of such suffering, can maintain their ethics and not seek revenge, but peace, then what right do the ignorant haters on both sides of this ongoing conflict have to ignite further violence?! PEACE REQUIRES PLACING THE VALUE OF LIFE ABOVE ALL.

Shalom-Salaam-Peace!

Manners Make Us Memorable

          Manners make us memorable, either as courteous, compassionate folks, or as people who practice acceptable social customs out of obligation and respect for traditions, or even as hypocrites who use politeness to disguise disdain. Here, in poetry, are some thoughts about manners:

Definitely!

by Susan L. Lipson

They agreed that it was fabulous to reconnect after so long,

that they needed to get together--DEFINITELY!

And that old sentiments renewed should be called "resentiment."

They laughed together, then exchanged phone numbers, emails, smiles, and hugs.

She texted her long-lost friend the next day, to say how thrilled she felt to be back in touch.

The text evoked a "ditto" and a smiley face in reply. 

And that reply evoked an invitation to get together,

which remained unanswered for two days, 

before being re-sent, along with the words, "You probably didn't get my text, so…".

A day later she re-sent the text again, and then re-sent a new one,

and finally, "resentiment" became RESENTMENT.

And "definitely" became a lie.

You’re Welcome 

by Susan L. Lipson

You’re welcome—to take your place

below her,

once you’ve finished gushing,

“Thank you so much for your help--thank you!”

and she replies nonchalantly,

“You’re welcome,”

but never, “Thank YOU—

Thanks for asking me.”

No, that would mean

you’re welcome

to bother her again,

and clearly you’re not.

To thank someone for effusive thanks

creates balance,

equates giving and receiving,

and negates power of one over another.

“You’re welcome,” blithely uttered,

implies a privilege granted,

a favor tallied,

and only rarely a follow-up offer

to “feel free to ask again, anytime.”

Sympathy Cards 

She called to ask whether we received her sympathy card,

and whether we knew that she had made a donation in memory

of our dearly departed.

She didn’t ask how we are coping with the loss.

She didn’t even mention my mom-in-law's name,

or any memory of times spent with her.

She was just wondering—“no pressure, of course!”—

since she’d never received a thank-you card.

“But that really doesn’t matter, of course,” she assured me,

“since I’m sure you’ve been so busy since….”

And then she assured me yet again: “You know, dear, that you have

my sincere sympathy, in any case—

card or no card.”

Whose card did she mean?

And why must I thank her for mere sympathy,

which is like a carefully wrapped package of nothing,

without the true gift of Empathy rattling within.

Sympathy is what you SHOW to others; Empathy is what you FEEL for them.

Sympathy is external; Empathy is internal.

Sympathy is a polite action; Empathy is a compassionate one.

Sympathy is expected in polite society; but Empathy is a welcome, cherished surprise.

Sympathy can be expressed by greeting cards; Empathy is only expressed in sincere words and/or hugs.

Sympathy is announced; empathy is understood.

Sympathy shows caring; Empathy creates sharing.

Sympathy is to shine another’s beaten-up shoes; Empathy is to wear those shoes.

Loss is cluttered by the sympathetic shoe-shiners,

But simplified by those who share our burdens,

Leaving us a smaller fraction of grief to bear alone.

ENLIGHTENMENT VERSUS DISILLUSIONMENT

Enlightenment:

"Wow! I never would've thought of that!" he gasped, his eyes aglow.

Disillusionment:

"Wow. I never would've thought of that," he sighed, the light in his eyes dimming.


So similar are these experiences, and so dependent on how we look at them.

Through what kind of eyes--glowing or dimming--do you see your realizations, whether they are enlightening or disillusioning? Our perspective determines whether we will grow from realizations, or become paralyzed by them.

Both enlightenment and disillusionment catalyze change, and the positivity or negativity of the changes depends entirely upon our reactions.

Housekeeping Poetry

     The other day I found a poem posted on Facebook that made me laugh aloud. "Dust If You Must," by Rose Milligan, offers lively rhyming words that convey the same message as the modern-day acronym "Y.O.L.O." (You Only Live Once), and the classic Latin admonition to live in the present, "Carpe Diem." Each verse begins with the words "Dust if you must, but…," following up with questions and comments that point out all of the more fulfilling alternatives to spending one's life dusting, such as: "…wouldn't it be better/ To paint a picture or write a letter…rivers to swim and mountains to climb…." The wry ending elicited my laugh:

          "Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
          Old age will come and it's not kind.
          And when you go--and go you must--
          You, yourself, will make more dust."

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes--so why waste time dusting, right? Life is an untidy business, which can only be relished, not controlled. And "good housekeeping" may be a cover for a person who yearns to be more adventurous, but chooses to play it safe for fear of the messiness of a life lived with abandon.

     Immediately, I recalled an old poem I wrote, also about housekeeping, also wry in its tone:

Rug Raker

Raking your rug,

Not hitting your kids,

Not breaking a plate,

Or slamming a door.

Raking the shag,

Not talking it out,

Not cleaning the shelves,

Or calling a friend.

Raking your rug,

Not crying your tears,

Not showing your pain—

Or feeling it.

Raking, you made

The living room die,

Track-free, preserved,

Museum-room style.

     While Rose Milligan's poem contains a warning to live life while you can--a warning that could have benefited this woman who perpetually raked her shag carpeting--my poem is more of an observation about housekeeping as a coping method. Rug raking is seen as a means of avoiding stress, honest communication, necessary confrontations, and emotional upheavals by keeping occupied with outward tidiness.  

     As I look around at my messy countertop, my computer surrounded by a crumb-covered dish, an empty coffee cup, an empty water glass, pens and paper, and a cell phone on which I now note an illuminated text from my precious daughter, I feel joy for the untidiness of my life and my ability to take the time to write this post, even though I need to get work done on my novel-in-progress. Dust abounds, and that's just fine with me.

Words of Love I Remember

In honor of Valentine's Day, I will post the lyrics to the first love song I ever wrote for the love of my life, Barry K. Lipson:

Only This Will Do

by Susan L. Lipson

You are the sun and the rain and the sky;

I know it's cliche, but that's what comes to mind

Whenever I think of you,

Whenever I dream of you.

If I could give you the sparkling stars in the sky,

I'd mix them in a glass of black velvet night

Served on a silver tray--

Champagne to toast the day.

CHORUS:

There are many ways to tell you

How I feel for you;

Many love songs have been written, but…

Only this will do, 

Only this will do.

You are the roots and I am the tree,

So you're always supporting me,

Even when strong winds blow,

Making my branches bow.

If I could give you this wonderful day,

I'd wrap it up in grass and tie it with hay--

A gift of green and gold,

A gift of new and old.

CHORUS

You are the flower and I am the bee,

I give to you and you give to me,

Helping each other grow,

We meet after every snow.

If I could give you a mountain to call all your own,

I'd drape it with flowers like a royal throne,

With the sky as your canopy,

You'd be Nature's royalty.

CHORUS

       

                                      

Writing for Resonance

          Have you seen, perhaps at a craft fair or a store selling tools for meditation, this kind of "singing bowl" from Tibet? Made of brass, this bowl will produce a resonant, melodic hum when tapped with a thick wooden stick, which you then lightly drag along the bowl's rim to enhance the reverberations. The quality of the sound depends not only on the bowl's material and form, but also on the tapping technique. I've watched shoppers at craft fair booths send sounds reverberating past their closed eyes and beatific smiles, while others shrug at the dull, short clang their strike produced, and then set down the bowl with a "why-would-anyone-buy-that?" kind of look. 

My point is this: resonance results from solid, high-quality materials; patient, persistent practice of the proper technique; a graceful touch; and respect for the creative process and all that goes into producing beauty (from the bowl maker to the merchant to the consumer to the listening bystander).

          Producing resonant words depends upon similar qualities:

• solid, high-quality vocabulary from which to launch the "singing" literary works
• figurative tools of expression to carve intricate designs into the surfaces of words
• clear concepts and images, and a balanced form from which to launch them
• earnest, methodical writing practice
• continual revision and refining to improve the beauty of our words'  echoes 
• mindfulness about the intended listeners'/readers' perceptions, as well as our own
• attentiveness to valuable feedback from those who might want to hear more
• control of our volume via the power and location of our strikes (in social settings and social media platforms) to reach the widest possible audience
• joy felt, and shared, in the process of creating resonant word pictures.

So, even if we writers have employed all of the qualities for resonant words, and have earned high praise from other writers and literate readers, why is it that some editors and readers still shrug at our words when we long for them to smile beatifically? Again, I think of the shopper's approach to the Tibetan singing bowl. If he's only looking at the bowl because he's trying to act polite to the vendor who made eye contact with him while holding out the bowl and the stick, then he will never appreciate the resonance meant for open minds and ears. He is only passing by on his way to a specific booth offering exactly the kind of craft he has on his shopping list. He is like the editor who has no intention of considering any writing for publication other than the type he has in mind as he peruses his mail. If a work doesn't fit his predetermined needs, he rejects it with the same forced politeness he used while skimming the surface of the piece as a friendly shopper (editor) should. In short, the shrug and the "why-would-anyone-buy-that" look in response to our words may have nothing to do with their inherent resonance; closed minds simply ignore what they have no interest in buying. 

          Writers of memorable words: Remember that editors, and readers in general, are shoppers. Some of them are open to discovering new treasures to fulfill their needs--and possibly even to redefine those needs. Others only seek what's on their predetermined shopping lists. We writers need to shrug off the shrugs and keep tapping the bowls of creative energy.

My Dream Office

Natural Cubicle
by Susan L. Lipson


To work inside a tree cave, hollowed out by fire,
charred yet enchanting,
marred yet inviting,
scarred yet empowering,
while still green above all,
ever green, above all--
that would be a metaphorically perfect space
for writing strong, magical, moving, timeless words.


My dream office, pictured above, stands proudly at Stanford Sierra camp, where I spent last weekend at the Fallen Leaf Retreat for children's authors and illustrators, hosted by SCBWI Nevada. While listening to the rippling Lake Tahoe sloshing softly to my left, and inhaling the aroma of pine, I stared at this tree cave and imagined myself sitting inside, writing. Typing like a wood pecker on a computer powered by tree energy alone, writing words that will forever ring true. Words that spread out and away from me like the ghostly rings of the missing section of the trunk--enveloping young readers in my memorable words. And I'd have no need for file cabinets, for a trusty squirrel assistant would gather my first draft acorns and bury them for a season, so that I could revisit the seedlings that grow to spring forth as sapling stories. And I would create a forest of words from my tree cave.

A Political Poem

Broken-Winged Bird
By Susan L. Lipson

The American Eagle struggles to soar,
Because of an imbalance caused by its cracked right wing,
And an uncontrollably vacillating left wing.
Only the steady winds of change,
Blowing upward,
Can uplift the ailing icon through its center,
Enabling it to regain its balance
And to evoke sighs of respect again.
We voted for such winds,
And now we anxiously await the weather reports
For an upsurge.


WHAT IS YOUR INTERPRETATION OF THIS POEM? PLEASE COMMENT BELOW (I'D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU).

Show Your Thanks for Valued Words!

Memorable writing is like tape: it sticks with you and seals the gaps between the writer's and reader's minds.

Have you ever read a book that leaves you believing you KNOW the author? Or a book that makes you WISH you knew her or him? If you met him or her in line at a coffee shop, would you strike up a conversation?



Have you ever considered the favor an author does for you by either distracting, enchanting, enriching, or moving you with memorable words? A favor that certainly deserves a thank you...

Have you ever thought about thanking the author, that so-familiar stranger, that wished-for friend, for connecting with you?

If your answer to any of the above questions is Yes, then I encourage you to write the author a thank-you note via one of his/her social media pages. You'll be surprised how many authors whom you have never met (yet), except via their pages, will answer you. I have heard replies in recent years from some of my favorite well-known authors, such as YA greats Jay Asher, Ellen Hopkins, Sonya Sones, and Jordan Sonnenblick; from MG mentors Wendy Mass, Nikki Grimes, Sharon Flake, and Jennifer J. Stewart; from memorable adult fiction authors Owen Egerton and Lisa Grunwald, and others.

Whom do you plan to thank for a great reading experience? Tell me here in the comments below. Or share a grateful reply that you received in response to such a thank you message.

New Spice from Old Spice: Kudos to Hilarious Label Writers!

Not all writing jobs are glamorous. Writing for product labels isn't exactly something to Tweet about...or is it? The writers behind these hilarious Old Spice deodorant labels show all writers how to create memorable words no matter where they appear! I buy men's deodorant--yes, it's true--not just for the smell and effectiveness, but now for these labels!

How about those "stench monsters" and the "odor fighting protection you demand from a mountain"? This is ad writing at its most creative, don't you think?

Know the Flow

If the first line of your manuscript doesn't grab your reader, it's not the right first line. Readers don't have time to waste on false starts. Cut lines until you find the most compelling opening. Then start from there.

I once told an author-client to cut his first three chapters and start with the fourth. "That's where your story starts. The previous chapters are backstory, necessary to you, maybe, but not to the reader. Weave in the few details that the reader needs to know to understand certain plot points and restart from that great first line of chapter four."

My client was ticked off, let me tell you! "Just throw away all that work of the opening chapters? Do you know how many times I rewrote those? They were my most difficult chapters to revise!"

"And once you finally got those chapters done, the rest flowed much more easily, right?"

"Right! Only after all that initial set up was done!"

"And 'set up' is the operative word. You know how in a play script you read the stage directions, separate from the lines? Well, chapters one to three amount to stage directions that set up the play and the players for YOU, the director, who will use those stage directions to plan and direct the scenes. But your audience doesn't read or hear those stage directions; they merely absorb the essence of them that you infuse into the actions. All that your audience needs to see is the point at which the spotlight introduces the first action. Get it?"

He didn't get it, and I thought he would fire me...until a few weeks later. The one piece of advice he had taken from me was to set the work aside and take some time away, to freshen his perspective. Then he sent me a new manuscript, with a Post-It note that said, "Thanks," but not much more, while under that note was a much tighter manuscript, more than three chapters thinner.

What I got out of that experience--which has occurred numerous times in my book editing past: If we struggle to create certain chapters or lines, rather than pour them out of our minds, that's our Muse's hint that we should delete them. Immediately. Before we waste more time. Know when it flows. Redirect when the flow gets clogged.

Standing Like Stone

One of my dearest friends died on this day, a decade ago, and in thinking of her and our relationship, this verse pops into my head:

"Life is mostly froth and bubble,
Two things stand like stone,
KINDNESS in another's trouble,
COURAGE in your own." (Adam Lindsay Gordon, Australian poet)


That verse from a much longer poem came to my attention via other memorable words, by one of my new favorite authors, Owen Egerton. Egerton quoted Gordon in his indelibly moving novel The Book of Harold: Illegitimate Son of God. Thus, memorable words give rise to other memorable words--and to images, ideas, and anything else born of artistic passion.

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While reading those words aloud, I imagine a short film of the tide rolling in, leaving froth and bubbles on the shore--seen via a close up shot--and then rolling out to reveal two rocks protruding from the sand. Zooming in on the rocks, we see that each one bears an engraved word: one says KINDNESS, the other says COURAGE. Then a huge wave crashes over both, and the shot of the submerged rocks is drawn out, making the viewer wait for it, wait for it, wait for it--until the water again recedes, showing the engraved stones standing firmly where they were.

My mental movie shows how memorable words affect me. How do they affect you? How do they affect your own writing?

I aim to evoke mental movies in my readers. From the bottom of my computer screen, where I've minimized the document containing my current novel-in-progress, a voice now yells, "Rolling!" I need to get back on set. 'Bye-bye!

The Difference Between Sympathy and Empathy

A 13-year-old student asked me the other day, "What's the difference between sympathy and empathy?" I happened to have a poem, written years ago, to explain. Here's an excerpt:

Sympathy is what you SHOW to others; Empathy is what you FEEL for them.
Sympathy is external; Empathy is internal.
Sympathy is a polite action; Empathy is a compassionate one.
Sympathy is expected in polite society; but Empathy is a welcome, cherished surprise.
Sympathy can be expressed by greeting cards; Empathy is only expressed in sincere words and/or hugs.
Sympathy is announced; empathy is understood.
Sympathy shows caring; Empathy creates sharing.
Sympathy is to shine another’s beaten-up shoes; Empathy is to wear those shoes.

Loss is cluttered by the sympathetic shoe-shiners,
And simplified by those who share our burdens,
Leaving us a smaller fraction of grief to bear alone.

Memorable Lines on My Face Make Me Who I Am--Not "Old"

Lately, my friends keep lamenting over age spots and wrinkles, discussing this treatment and that treatment that will help them stay young-looking. Here is my poetic response:

The Lines on My Face

The lines on my face
SHOW, don’t tell
a story
of a writer
blessed not by a well of angst
from which to draw word pictures,
but by a fountain of bittersweet joy,
from which I gather
well-read palmfuls to splash
onto my new wrinkles
just in time to turn them into
fantastic crows’ feet
and grin marks,
hydrated by freshwater happiness
and saltwater lessons.
My fine lines,
though written with strength,
are not the type discussed by Oprah’s Book Club,
nor are they admired
by the “Beautiful People,”
who see them as defects of aging,
rather than privileges.
The lines on my face
help to make me ME—
as do these lines above.