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.

The Poetic Sigh of an Empty Nester

Ours for Hours

By S. L. Lipson 

The top of my hourglass,

filled with the promise of

densely packed, precious family moments

only two weeks ago,

has emptied now,

like my nest.

Sparkling grains streamed too quickly

through the narrow passage called “winter break,”

and with a sad whoosh,

settle into the bulbous base

as memories,

while my kids resettle into their

homes away from Home.

And I wait for the next rotation

of our glass.

Esteemed YA and MG Authors Share How They Know Their Characters Are Alive

(This article originally appeared in the SCBWI-San Diego newsletter, Dec. 2013)

Turning Words into Flesh:

How Fiction Authors

Bring Characters to Life

By S. L. Lipson

In Greek mythology, the sculptor Pygmal­ion, carves his ideal woman out of ivory and falls in love with her image. But his kisses meet cold stone, not flesh. The goddess of love, taking pity upon him, brings his creation to life.

Like Pygmalion, we fiction authors carve out our characters and await the magic that turns them into real people for us—people so real that our readers will also feel as if they know them.

How does that magic present itself to you? What makes you realize that your new characters have become fully alive? Here’s what some of our esteemed YA and MG novelists say:

Ellen Hopkins: It really is when they talk to you, not only while you’re at your computer, but when you’re trying to concentrate on something else, or attempting to go to sleep. Sometimes they wake me up, insisting I’ve forgotten to write some­thing very important.

Nikki Grimes: When my characters argue with me about the words I’m putting into their mouths, I know they have become their own per­sons! At that point, not only do they walk and talk, but they even tell me off. It’s quite hilarious!

Sharon Flake: My characters lead me like a balloon that is being carried away with the wind. Yes, at times I must get ahead of them and make a course correction. But mainly I write, rewrite and marvel at how much more gifted they are at telling stories than I am.

Heather Petty: For me, it’s when writ­ing their dialogue and responses become intuitive. When I start to anticipate what they will say or not say, and how they will say it, like you can with a best friend or family member—that’s when I know I’ve finally brought them to life.

As for me, I know my characters have taken on lives of their own when they start writing their own songs and poetry, and I record “covers” of their original hits on my computer, and want to share their poetry with my students, who are their age.

Those who don’t write fiction might think we are all “hearing voices,” ready to be committed! And we are! Our commitment to those voices is what pulls readers into our worlds.

Useful Noncommittal Words for Harmony in Relationships

Sometimes, in potentially volatile conversations, we must smother verbal sparks with noncommittal words, rather than insist on being "right" and fanning flames that lead to everyone being burned. Here are some handy phrases to cool down the heat, so no one ends up "the sore loser" (see picture below--drawn by my son, Ian).

1. "I can see why you think that." This phrase lets people know you're listening to them, suggesting that you agree with them, but not actually agreeing with what they say. (My son brought this line to my attention--by using it. He's a skillful diplomat, as the middle child, and only boy, between two strong-minded sisters.)
2. "Thanks for your input." The word thanks gives value to the other person's words, without necessarily valuing them.
3. "That's an interesting point." The word interesting offers delectable neutrality in sticky situations, without commitment.
4. "I'll think about that." This allows you to show open-mindedness, maybe even to consider another viewpoint, without definitely committing to anything in advance.
5. "You may be right." The overbearing listener will hear the words you and right without realizing that the may has not committed you to agreeing with him/her.

I am a firm advocate of directness in conversations, rather than evasiveness, but we all have those people in our lives with whom a conversation often escalates into a battle of wills. Life's short and high blood pressure only makes it shorter, so reconsider the value of being "right" for the sake of your own health With some people, you can consider noncommittal words a gift to their egos/insecurity/need to dominate. 

Let me know how this works for you! And please subscribe to my blog if you enjoyed this.

Behind the Armor

I will now share my poem about self-protective behaviors that alienate us from each other. In all forms of communication, we cannot connect with others unless we drop our shiny, unyielding facades to expose our emotions, face vulnerability, and reveal our hearts--our true mettle.

Behind the Armor
by Susan L. Lipson

Clouded knights
wear arrogance for masks,
aloofness for protective suits,
meanness for shields,
while battling insecurity,
fear,
loneliness,
and weakness. 

Ninjas prefer hand-to-hand combat
with emotions,
building thicker skin through baring it,
from struggle to sweat to sigh to
enlightened daze.

No heavy armor required
when we are who we are.
No hasty judgment pronounced
when we know who they are.


The next time you feel insulted by someone's apparent arrogance, feel sympathy for the insecurity that hides behind the actions. When your warmth is iced over by someone's coldness, have compassion for her fear of emotional sharing. And when a bully tries to make you feel small, pity his misguided need to put others down in order to raise himself up. Channel all of these feelings into actions and reactions guided not by judgment, but by understanding. That's how we shed the heavy armor that weighs us down and prevents us from connecting with each other.

That's also how we writers connect to our fictional characters, to make them real for readers: we must first know their naked selves before we can hide them beneath armor for our readers to uncover. The joy of finding the cracks in a character's armor, and eventually uncovering that character's heart, is one of the great joys of reading, isn't it?

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).

Tweeting Memorable Words

New to the Twitter world, I have taken on this social media platform warily, even disdainfully at first, considering it a vacuous "Look-at-me!" exercise. But at a recent writers' conference, I kept hearing about how important tweeting is to drive people to read more from you if you hooked them with your cleverness. "That's how you get people to visit your website, read your blogs, know your name," claimed the presenters. So I signed up, and then studied tweet patterns like a birdwatcher, noting whose tweets turned my gaze to them, which inspired me to tweet back, and which of my new flock bore bands that showed they're being tracked.

I found out it's a game. First, it's about who can make the best move in 140 characters, catching the eyes of followers and inspiring them to retweet a post; second, who can be consistently clever, snagging the top branch of the Twitter feed at just the right time for maximum exposure; and third, who can achieve the highest number of followers, without following more than follow him/her ("Mom, you never want to be following more people than follow you," advised my daughter, a more experienced player. "AND you should follow people who follow you if their posts interest you and they have a lot of their own followers, because they might retweet you to their people. See?") Yes, it's definitely a game. A game with rules that reveal themselves as you play. A game that makes me nervous about the etiquette that seems to underly it (regarding who to follow or unfollow), and makes me hesitate to type something for unknown eyes that might mislabel me and end up on "my permanent record." Yes, I feel like I'm back in elementary school, tweeting hesitantly and hoping others like me.

Aside from the realization that the Twitter game requires strategy, I notice something else that has to do with its worth to writers: forced conciseness. Like a poetic structure, a tweet must use hashtags sparingly--I still haven't quite figured out how to use them!--leaving room for the strongest possible words. I find myself cutting down tweets to fit the 140 character limit, substituting words for shorter synonyms, and paying more attention to word choices than I have to do on Facebook. It's like the difference between poetry and prose. I advocate that all writers practice writing poetry to tighten their prose. Now I'm advocating that writers use Twitter not just as "Look-at-me-and-follow-me" tool, but as an exercise in the economy of words!

And now I'm off to tweet an interesting observation that just occurred outside my window. Curious? Come follow me on Twitter: @sllipson.

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.