TCTK Reviewed by John Adcox

TCTK pb cover.jpeg

I'm always thrilled when The Company They Keep gets an enthusiastic review. But some reviews make me want to jump and shout "YES! You get it!! That's what this book is all about!!!" That was my reaction to this review recently posted by author John Adcox on his blog:

 In Good Company: The Company They Keep By Diana Pavlac Glyer

Until the publication of Diana Pavlac Glyer’s new book The Company The Keep: C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien as Writers in Community, I hadn’t realized how strong was my urge to be a “completist.” A new book out on the Inklings? By all means, I had to have it, period. This is fortunate, because if I paused to remind myself that I’d already read Humphrey Carpenter’s superb biography The Inklings, and then to ask if I really, really needed another book on the subject, the rational part of my brain might have said “no,” and (it’s not completely impossible) might have carried the day. And that would have been too darn bad. Glyer’s book makes a wonderful companion to Carpenter’s more well known volume, and stands very well on its own. Carpenter’s book is a biography; Glyer’s is an examination of the very significant ways in which, as a community, the Inkings challenged, inspired, influenced, and supported one another. The Company The Keep is a terrific and insightful read.

Carpenter’s The Inklings tells a rollicking good story. When Carpenter describes the group’s meetings at The Eagle and Child Pub, you can almost hear the glasses clinking merrily; you’d swear that, now and then, you catch, almost the faint and fading scent of sweet pipe smoke. You feel that you know Tolkien, Lewis, Williams, Barfield, and the others, a privilege as welcome as it is rare. Carpenter’s recreation of the now-famous conversation between Lewis and Tolkien on mythopoeia and the deeper truth hidden in the “lies” of myth is moving and profoundly beautiful.

By contrast, Glyer mentions this conversation only in passing. Her purpose isn’t to tell a story. It’s to explore. In her introduction, Glyer notes that early critics, from Gareth Knight and Lin Carter to Mark Hillegas and Carpenter himself, tend to downplay the influences the writers had upon one another. Glyer reminds us that Carpenter claims that the Inklings has, for example, no influence at all on the development of The Lord of the Rings. Glyer argues that this claim is at best unfair. Why would the men have continued to meet and critique one another’s works in progress if they perceived no value in the exchange? More, Glyer points out that common sense alone suggests that any group that meets over a long period of time — some seventeen years — is bound to change its members in ways both subtle and obvious.

So why would critics argue that the Inklings had no influence on one another’s work? Glyer builds a convincing case that Carpenter, Carter, and the others were reacting to earlier critics who accused the Inklings of a sort of group think, marching in almost corporate lockstep, writing interchangeable, virtually indistinguishable works. Confronted with such preposterous accusations, it seems natural that more sympathetic critics would have been quicker to defend each individual’s personal achievement and genius.

To start her study of the Inklings, Glyer looked at other communities of working writers, and was stuck by how both members and critics readily acknowledge the groups’ influence without diminishing individual achievement. More, Glyer found that members of writer’s groups and communities tend to influence each other in very specific ways: as resonators supporting and encouraging progress, as opponents issuing challenge, as editors, as collaborators working together, and finally as referents writing about each other. Glyer devotes long chapters to each, using letters, interviews, essays and other evidence to show how the Inklings filled each role for one another.

Glyer concludes hat writers don’t create in a vacuum; every artist’s work is inevitably embedded in the work of others. Community doesn’t stifle creativity or individual expression. Rather, it fertilizes and nurtures it. For anyone interested in how a favorite book came to be, and especially for artists exploring their own craft, The Company The Keep is a must read. Her conclusions are well supported and her arguments thorough. Best of all, her book is fascinating and a joy to read. Any fan of Tolkien, Lewis, and the others absolutely must have a copy of Carpenter’s The Inklings. The shelf is equally bare without a copy of The Company The Keep.

 
You can read more about John Adcox and his work at http://www.johnadcox.com/index.html

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Collaborations: Phil Keaggy & Jeff Johnson & Kathy Hastings & Luci Shaw

P1030098I'm a Phil Keaggy fan from way back. I can't find my tee shirt from the "Love Broke Thru" tour, but I sure remember sitting in the third row on the left side in that concert, feeling awed by the music and amazed that anyone could coax a guitar to sing like that.  Since those early days, I've seen Keaggy in concert a dozen times or more. I was in Chicago recently, and it was a treat to see him there in concert, collaborating with Randy Stonehill.
 

Today this notice flitted across my FaceBook NewsFeed: another collaborative project, this one with Jeff Johnson. Phil Keaggy is one of the all-time biggest talents out there. He stays fresh and relevant and inspired by continuing to work closely with others.

The rest of us should take note.

In January 2009, guitarist, Phil Keaggy and keyboardist, Jeff Johnson shared their musical talents and ideas as part of the annual retreat of the Chrysostom Society - a group of writers and poets - at Laity Lodge in the hill country of Texas. They had met before on several occasions and had even sent musical ideas back and forth to one another on behalf of another producer for a book on CD. But it was in this place “where heaven and earth meet” that a friendship was born between the two musicians. It wasn’t long before a musical collaboration was also begun through the internet between Phil’s home studio in Nashville, TN and Jeff’s facility on Camano Island, WA. The result is this original recording in collaboration with images by artist, Kathy Hastings and a poem by Luci Shaw.

    Frio River

The river, up to the ankles,
invites our feet to test its depth and learn
through the skin of our soles
how water chisels limestone, first laying it down,
then knuckling it, leaving the long print of fluid
all along the stream bed. We discover
what it might be like to walk on water,
and how the stone itself supports the flow
as it composes its own fluid music,
a naked sound around us as we wade,
a lilt that lifts the heart.
Together, sun and stone and water write
their rippling continuo between the hills.
Sometimes the lens of water, like an eye,
deepens to a blue profundity, the way
music needs no words,
being its own language.

~ By Luci Shaw
Poet, author What the Light Was Like,
Writer in Residence, Regent College

For more information about this collaboration, check it out at

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Creativity and Hungry Caterpillars

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I love Eric Carle, the author and artist behind classic children's books like The Very Hungry Caterpillar. I stumbled across his blog and really like these thoughts about creativity, time, seeds, and hatchlings:

Thursday, September 3, 2009

The Seed that Grows into a Story

Sometimes ideas for my books seem to burst into bloom. But often the seed of the idea had been planted much earlier; had been growing quietly inside me for years. An example of this, the seed or idea for my book From Head to Toe, was planted all the way back when I was in high school. I had a strong aversion to physical exercise and sports and felt pressured by the competitive nature of physical education. As a result, I often skipped gym class.

Years later, as an adult, I suffered from back pain (while I enjoyed walking and gardening I spent a lot of time at my desk in my studio and all of the sitting I was doing started to catch up with me). I went to see a massage therapist who gave me exercises which I did every day. These stretches had wonderful names: "Angry cat" was one of them and "old horse" was another. As I did these exercises the feelings from years before, of not enjoying gym class - of feeling like an outsider at school when it came to sports - came to the surface. The seed for the story started to grow and with the names of the exercises dancing in my imagination, the idea for From Head to Toe began to take hold. A young child once told me, "Ideas come from both your inside and your outside." I have found this to be true for me. The inside event (the feelings I had as a school boy who didn't like gym class), and the outside event (doing the exercises given to me by my massage therapist) somehow mingled together to make a book.

http://ericcarleblog.blogspot.com/2009/09/seed-grows-into-story.html

Taking time, letting things unfold, being alert to the stories all around him. That's what makes Eric Carle a *great* writer.

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College Writing Courses: What Were You S’posed to Learn?

Did you take Freshman Writing or First Year Composition, or some kind of writing course when you first went to college? Was it a great experience? Too easy? Too hard?

Was it even clear to you what you were supposed to be getting out of that class?

As I am getting ready to teach another group of first year students in a Freshman Writing Seminar, I've been looking at the national guidelines for what this kind of course is supposed to offer. I've posted the guidelines below.

So here is what I want to know: Did you actually learn this stuff on this list in your first year writing class, however long ago that might have been? Was it taught well? Are there things here that you still wonder about and wish you understood?

Council of Writing Program Administrators: 

Outcomes (National) for First Year Writing Courses

 At the end of the Freshman Writing course, first year students should be expected to demonstrate ability in 4 areas. 

Knowledge 
By the end of first year composition, students should
            Focus on a purpose
            Respond to the needs of different audiences
            Respond appropriately to different kinds of rhetorical situations
            Use conventions of format and structure appropriate to the rhetorical situation
            Adopt appropriate voice, tone, and level of formality
            Understand how genres shape reading and writing
            Write in several genres

Critical Thinking, Reading, and Writing
By the end of first year composition, students should
            Use writing and reading for inquiry, learning, thinking, and communicating.
            Understand a writing assignment as a series of tasks, including finding, evaluating, analyzing, and synthesizing appropriate primary and secondary sources.
            Integrate their own ideas with those of others.
            Understand the relationships among language, knowledge, and power.

Processes
By the end of first year composition, students should
            Be aware that it usually takes multiple drafts to create and complete a successful text.
            Develop flexible strategies for generating, revising, editing, and proof-reading.
            Understand writing as an open process that permits writers to use later invention and re-thinking to revise their work.
            Understand the collaborative and social aspects of writing processes.
            Learn to critique their own and others’ works.
            Learn to balance the advantages of relying on others with the responsibility of doing their part.
            Use a variety of technologies to address a range of audiences.

Knowledge of Conventions
By the end of first year composition, students should
            Learn common formats for different kinds of texts.
            Develop knowledge of genre conventions ranging from structure and paragraphing to tone and mechanics.
            Practice appropriate means of documenting their work.
            Control such surface features as syntax, grammar, punctuation, and spelling.

 

 Thanks to Dr. Thomas Allbaugh for compiling this information and sending to his faculty.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Complied by Thomas Allbaugh 2/04

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This blog was posted by me.

A colleague called me the other day. He offered to buy me a latte if I could help him figure out what was so bad about passive voice. I met him at the coffee shop on campus.

I sipped my latte and explained that passive voice does not mean that your sentence is long and dangly, lacks action, uses abstract language, or is generally boring. Like a lot of grammar terms, "passive voice" isn't a very good name for what it happening here. It is easily misunderstood.

Passive voice is a phrase that we use to describe a certain kind of sentence structure. It does not refer to the meaning of the words, the kind of words you use, or the length of the sentence. It's the order of the words that matter. Here are some examples of sentences that are written in the passive voice:

Fred was punched by Bill.
The hilarious comment was made by James.
The ish was pubbed by Mike.
The book was read by Sierra.
A long, boring speech about traffic lights and turn signals was delivered at the national conference of the Australian Vocation Bureau in 1987 by Chairman Gloria Underpenny.

All of these sentences are grammatically correct; that is to say, there is absolutely no grammatical reason not to use them. As far as the grammar police are concerned, these are all perfectly legal. Or, to put it another way, no tickets will be issued by your English teacher.

So what's the problem? When we read American English, we are generally happier if the subject of the sentence comes first. We want to know WHO did WHAT.  And we generally want to know it in that order: first tell me who is responsible, then tell me what they did. If someone messes with the basic, common, ordinary, familiar order of  things, we tend to get a little nervous. Somehow, a sentence like "David compiled the index" feels clean, honest, and straightforward. But if you switch it up and say "The index was compiled by David," all of a sudden, it feels a little, well, sinister.

So the passive sentences listed above seem more trustworthy if we are more direct, if we use active voice, if we say them this way:

Bill punched Fred.
James made the hilarious comment.
Mike pubbed the ish.
Sierra read a book.
Chairman Gloria Underpenny delivered a long, boring speech about traffic lights and turn signals at the national conference of the Australian Vocation Bureau in 1987.

All of these have word order that basically has a person doing something with something or to something. We call that a subject-verb-object (S-V-O) sentence. So if I have a sentence like "The teacher cried" or "Jane is the new president," then the whole active/passive issue doesn't even apply. It only applies when you have this particular kind of three part sentence.

Here's the bottom line: In active voice, the person who does the deed is standing proud as the subject of the sentence. In passive voice, the person who does the deed is hiding like a shivering coward in the prepositional phrase at the very, very end.

But if passive voice isn't wrong, does that mean that there are times when it would be a good idea to use it? Yes, there are.

For example, when you are trying on purpose to hide the perpetrator:

The window was broken.
The motion was made and seconded. 
The building was finished.
The body was discovered.
The evidence was compiled.
The suspect was interrogated.

In things like committee meetings, official reports, scientific papers, philosophical explorations, scholarly treatises, and so on, passive voice is not only permitted, but can be downright useful.  Passive voice can also lend a sense of authority to a piece because it evokes this kind of official, hifalutin rhetoric.

There are a few other situations, too. Sometimes you just don't know who was responsible. Or you want to downplay that information, or maybe you just want to save it for later. Or sometimes you need the stylistic variation to improve the flow of  your story. But in general, passive voice slows things down and makes people think you've got something to hide. It can be a little hard to follow. And it tends to sound just a little off.

Here, look. Here's the first paragraph of this blog in active voice:

A colleague called me the other day.  He offered to buy me a latte if I could help him figure out what was so bad about passive voice. I met him at the coffee shop on campus.

Here it is again, using passive voice:

I was called by a colleague the other day. An offer was made by him to buy me a latte if I could explain to him what was so bad about passive voice. He was met by me at the coffee shop on campus.

See what I mean?

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Julie, Julia, and Russ Parsons

I love practically everything about the movie Julie and Julia, but there is one rather annoying loose end. It pops up in the scene where Julie gets a call from a reporter who is covering Julia Child’s birthday party. He tells Julie that Julia doesn’t think much of her blog or her cooking. Then he asks her for a comment.

Naturally, Julie is devastated. She’s been invoking Julia as muse and spiritual director and guardian angel and moral compass combined (and to top it all off, her initials happen to be J.C.  Hmmm..). And it turns out, at least by one account, that Julia doesn’t appreciate this effusive admiration and affection? How can it be!!!!

In the movie, the scene is short and the key tension unresolved. The conversation moves sideways. Julie whines to her long-suffering hubby, “She saved me!” to which he replies earnestly, “You saved yourself.” I found this exchange problematic: IMO, Julie was “saved” because she stepped up to a challenge that was big enough to draw her out of herself and into something greater.

But I left that scene with another nagging concern: what did Julia actually say about Julie and her blog?

Or (and here I am forced to admit that I, too, had become rather besotted with the divine Julia Child): Could Julia really have done such a thing?

So I was delighted to stumble across Russ Parsons’ account. “I was there,” he tells us. Parsons tells us that he was the first journalist to write about the Julie/Julia blog, at about the half-way point in the project.  He was friends with Julia Child, and so when he discovered Julie’s blog, he printed it up and gave her a copy. Here’s how he tells it:

She hadn't heard about it, but promised to have a look and get back to me. I didn't hear from her for several days, so eventually I called her up. "So Julia," I asked, "what do you think?"

There was a silence as she gathered her thoughts. Then in that familiar reedy voice she nailed the answer: "Well," she said, "she just doesn't seem very serious, does she?

"I worked very hard on that book. I tested and retested those recipes for eight years so that everybody could cook them. And many, many people have. I don't understand how she could have problems with them. She just must not be much of a cook."

She asked me not to quote her, and after thinking it over, I didn't, choosing a valued friendship over a couple of juicy paragraphs in a story. I'm still not sure it was the right call, but there you have it.

 

Yes, there you have it. One less little thing to keep me awake at night, wondering.

Read more from Russ Parsons at http://www.latimes.com/features/food/la-fo-calcook12-2009aug12,0,7986229.story?page=1

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Julie, Julia, and Gertrude Stein

A book project that takes four times as long as you expect.

A book collaborator who drags her feet; another who carries the day.

The strain on your marriage because your book has become an obsession.

The phone call from your mother because she is trying to figure out exactly what it is that you do.

The juggling act of living your life while you are simultaneously typing book pages in your living room.

Those weird conversations withthat publisher who tells you your book is perfect and then tells you to do the whole thing over again.

That official-looking envelope and, inside, a letter saying your book has been accepted for publication.

The key interview that gets cancelled at the last minute.

The giggly thrill of seeing your picture in the paper.

 

Sounds like the story of my life. Or the tried-and-true plot of an inspirational movie. As it happens, it is both, only the movie isn’t the one I expected. It’s Julie & Julia.

My friend had raved about it. “Meryl Streep is amazing.” That’s a sure bet (as long as she isn’t trying to sing. Then, well, I have issues.). “It’s funny and moving.” Sounds good. ‘Well-written and thoughtful.” Okay, now you’ve got me.

The reviews were good, the subject interesting. I went expecting luscious food, historical texture, biographical insight. I got all that. I did love the movie.

But I got something more. What I didn’t expect to see up on the screen was the shock of recognition and this stratling discoery: Julie & Julia is as much a movie about being a writer as it is about being a cook. Or being Julia Child.

The real thread that circles the two main characters isn’t so much what cooking does as it is what writing does. And while I’ve seen quibbles about the film’s depiction of how to chop an onion or how to use a French tapered rolling pin or how to prepare bread for bruschetta, I can tell you that when it comes to what it looks like feels like smells like tastes like to be a writer, the film is perfect down to the last detail. The tremble when you hold that envelope. The hard little chair you sit in when you meet with your publisher. The triumphant fist in the air when you connect with a reader. The way you hold your breath through everything else you have to do in a day until the moment you can run free and write.

 There is another element that I found deeply honest and deeply moving. For both Julie and Julia, the element that makes the biggest difference is they have people in their lives who believe in their project—and their abilities—long before they do. They live with resonators who tell them with emphasis,  “You are a writer. You will finish. Your book will get published. This work will change the world.”

 Resonators. Encouragers. As Gertrude Stein said, “When you write a book, you need someone to say yes to it.” Not just at the end of the day. In the gray dawn of morning when you can hardly see straight and you sure don’t have the strength to do more than put one sentence in front of another.

Take away? In writing, as in cooking, there is often one, critical, irreplaceable ingredient. In writing, it is someone who understands what you are trying to do and says yes.

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Oxford CSL Society

 

 

a glorious time in a glorious space

a glorious time in a glorious space

My sabatical travels have ranged far and wide. One of my best trips was a short visit to Oxford last February. While I was there, I spent most of my time at the Bodleian, studying Tolkien materials.

 

 

I also presented a paper to the Oxford C. S. Lewis Society. Officers Brendan Wolfe and Judith Tonning offered a warm welcome.  It was really a lovely evening, and I was both enlightened and encouraged by this remarkable group.

I used the occasion to offer my first formal presentation of some new research on Warren Hamilton Lewis. Warnie stands in his brother's shadow, and his legacy has been marred by his well-known struggles with alcohol. But there is so much more to know about this man: a fine writer, a gracious friend, a key member of the Inklings. I have been studying his letters and look forward to writing more about him.

If you are interested in C. S. Lewis, I urge you to support the work of this Society: http://lewisinoxford.googlepages.com/

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When Projects "Hatch"

chicken, basket, bookshelf

chicken, basket, bookshelf

Several months ago, I wrote about my ceramic chicken, the one I use to store projects that are on hold. Sometimes I am waiting to hear from a publisher, sometimes a piece is just plain stuck, sometimes I need to gather additional materials, sometimes another deadline interrupts. Sometimes I just give up. In all of these situations, I find it helpful to put the project in a flat basket on a bookshelf, and set a large ceramic chicken on top.

Yep. I really do. It serves as a visual reminder that sometimes things just need a little time. Even though I am tempted to fret or feel discouraged, when I see that a project  under the chicken it helps me to remember that it's not over, it's not hopeless, it's not ruined, it's not wasted. It's just not ready yet. It needs more time.

The hardest ones for me to deal with are those projects that have gathered up a stack of rejection slips.  When I am trying to pitch a book, I usually start with a list of 20 or so preferred publishers, then I put them in order of preference, then I print out a list of addresses and prepare a stack of envelopes, then I print out two copies of the proposal.

A rejection letter comes in; a new cover letter gets printed and slipped into the next envelope and a new proposal goes in the mail to the next address on the list the very next day.

But sometimes I run out of addresses. That's what happened in the case of my devotional book "Clay in the Potter's Hands." Stacks of rejection letters, hours of pitching it at writers conferences, all kinds of trouble and nary a nibble. So that particular book manuscript has been sitting under the chicken for a very long time.

Today it hatched.

Here's how it happened. I am working on two scholarly articles at the moment, one for a conference and one for a book. Both are due in a couple weeks. Today was a writing day: Wake up, take Sierra to school, come home, sit down, write, write, write, pick Sierra up from school.

The day was going great. Until I got to the "write, write, write" part. It wasn't exactly writer's block. It was more like writer's restlessness. I didn't mind sitting and writing. I just had absolutely no juice whatsoever for the projects I was working on.

I pushed words around for a while, took a walk, pushed, fiddled, did some laundry-- hey, if you've ever written anything, you know just what it looks like. Except underneath the "I don't wanna write" part there was another part that whispered, "I DO want to write. I just don't want to write THIS."

In frustration, I looked under the chicken, saw the pottery book, pulled it out, sat down. And started writing.

The whole process of re-reading and re-vising was so fluid, so alive, so engaging, so exciting. I was late picking up Sierra from school because I was having So Much Fun. I lost track of time.

A publising plan, a timetable, and a thousand and one other decisions are waiting in the wings. I'll get to them. Later. For now, I'm having an absolute blast watching as this new hatchling breathes the breath of life. And feeling the profound privilege of being present as it does.

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Talking with Joy Curry at WETN

I have a love/hate relationship with appearances on talk radio. I love the energy and spontaneity of radio, love the chance to interact with listeners, love to talk about the things I am passionate about, like C.S. Lewis, and J.R.R. Tolkien, and creativity, and community.

On the other hand, not everyone who knows how to host a dynamic radio show knows what to do when a guest is in the studio.

Enter Joy Curry, host of the morning show at WETN, 88.1 FM and wetn.org.  She's got a voice built for radio: lively, versatile, thoughtful, quick, sparkling. I talked with her on the air this morning, and she did everything right.

In setting things up, she kept in touch, answered messages promptly, gave sterling directions on where to meet and how to prepare.

When I arrived, she was warm and welcoming. She was ready to talk about my book, but even more, she had prepared music and introductory material that was beautiffully suited to the occasion and the topic.

On the air, she managed to walk that fine line between substantial content and light-hearted entertainment. And she made it all seem effortless. She was well-prepared and also open to new directions. She immediately found the heart of the topic and kept the conversation on track.

Hats off to Joy Curry and kudos to WETN.  Folks in the Chicago area: you have a real jewel in your midst. I feel blessed to have been a small part of it.

Check it out: http://www.wheaton.edu/wetn/AMshow/morning.htm

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