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Wednesday, November 27, 2013

THE CREATIVITY IMPERATIVE
 
Bill Gibbons

The creative process – a seemingly simple phrase, yet one that pervades human philosophies, religions, arts, psychology, and biology.
 
Aside from the drive to procreate to assure succeeding generations and the need to create shelter, both characteristics common to all species, the human impetus to create for the sake of the creation itself is singular among all species.
 
Most of us can identify others who exhibit a need to create that which is apart from their chosen professions. A banker welds metal sculpture in his spare time, a psychologist designs and knits fashionable sweaters for children, a car dealer also writes poetry, a professor of economics writes novels and short stories. Noted biochemist and professor, Isaac Asimov, was better known for his science fiction writing. Locally, retired Wicomico County building inspector, Grover Cantwell, has been creating striking art in watercolor for most of his life. The list goes on.
 
This "creativity imperative" is not a latter-day development. Invention (itself the result of a creativity imperative) of ostensibly time-saving devices through history frees us to pursue artistic hobbies, but it does not explain the inherent human need to create – it simply allows it. Cave paintings, dated as early as 40,000 years ago, exist in the El Castillo cave near Cantabria, Spain – and there are others. Although motivations for the paintings elude comprehension, I submit that, in large part, the motivation was the human need to create. Besides, regardless of the ultimate function of the paintings, the creative minds behind them cannot be ignored.
 
Granted, it is only the truly accomplished – and/or lucky – who can claim their creative activities as also their occupation. Stephen King, James Patterson, Maya Angelou, Margaret Atwood, Pablo Picasso, and Mikhail Baryshnikov are a few fortunate examples, out of a human population in excess of seven billion on the planet.
 
Denial of an individual's creativity imperative carries its own consequences. There is a reason that child care facilities and schools set aside time for creative pursuits among students. Expressive arts, e.g., music, dance, literary arts, and visual arts, are used by institutions and private counselors to aid in therapy.
 
Beyond educational and formalized uses of creative therapy, there is much to recommend turning to such interests in our everyday lives. Painting, writing, dancing, and music afford distractions that can temper job stress, alleviate boring routines, or lessen family pressures, all sober realities of modern life.
 
This writer has, over the decades, delved into visual arts, literary arts, and inventions. Arguably,  literary arts is the most basic, yet at the same time the highest, form of creative arts. With the simplest of implements, pen or pencil and paper, one can pour thoughts out from the dark recesses of the mind onto paper where they can be viewed in the light of day, examined, and reconciled.
 
We don't deny the existence of stress and strife in everyday life; we might benefit from acknowledging the creativity imperative within each of us and the balance it can bring to our lives.

Thursday, July 18, 2013


Blog Blitz with Author L William Gibbons




Christmas in July, unwrap a summer ebook blog blitz, welcomes L William Gibbons

With a supernatural undercurrent, The Fourth Marker is the story of an elderly man, Gabriel Townsend, whose spirit is being crushed between the metaphoric anvil of his pragmatic views and the falling hammer of his wife's pending death.

While a child on the family farm during the Great Depression, Gabe rejected legends of his Native American ancestors and ignored miraculous cures of three family members. Gabe's half-breed paternal grandfather, Noopah, tried to teach him tribal legends and the old ways, explaining that, after most Indians had been killed or driven from their lands by the Army and settlers, tribal elders  returned to their lands in spirit form after their deaths.  They dwelled at a sacred hill on the family's land and protected their descendants from early death and white man's diseases.

During those years, three family members were cured of life-threatening diseases, but Gabe's pragmatic mother, not of Native American blood, blindly credited their recoveries to the nascent field of modern medicine. After each recovery, a person of evil character and not of tribal blood disappeared, followed by the mysterious appearance of a wood marker on the sacred tribal hill. Yet, despite those events and Noopah's words, Gabe adhered to his mother's intractable views.
Now facing the loss of his wife, he relives his childhood memories, guided by the spirit of his grandfather from beyond – well beyond – the grave. Finally understanding the truth of long ago, he decides to beg the tribal spirits to take his life in exchange for his wife's, aware that a fourth marker would signify his own life – and death.

As Gabe's father noted, "some understand only what they see; others see only what they understand." The Fourth Marker highlights this most human of vices against the backdrop of Native American legends with ample helpings of farm life during the Great Depression.

Some thoughts from Bill:

BEFORE COWBOYS AND INDIANS

A highly successful genre for generations of novels, television, and film has been the Western. For many of those generations, "cowboys and Indians" has been a common theme, popular not only in the United States but, based on this writer's personal experience, in Japan, England, and France and surely in many other countries.

Except for a few examples, chiefly James Fenimore Cooper's, The Last of the Mohicans, most settings for the theme, and variations thereof, have been west of the Appalachian and Allegheny Mountain ranges and the majority of those west of the Mississippi River. However, the relationships between the relatively new arrivals to North America's eastern shores and the indigenous people in those areas were established long before the time periods represented in most novels and film. Further, those beginnings impacted all later relationships between the two groups down through the centuries, even to the present day.

In 1608, English soldier and intrepid adventurer, Captain John Smith, explored the Chesapeake Bay, the United States' largest estuary, and its far reaching tributaries under the auspices of the Virginia Company of London. His maps and intelligence regarding the Native American populations, philosophies, and practices served the English well for the next century in their quests to establish a Virginia colony and to further their commercial interests.

Through the centuries, Native American populations in eastern North America were wooed, threatened, and manipulated, at various times, into serving the interests of the English, Dutch, Swedes, Spanish, and French in various wars and skirmishes, including The French and Indian War (Seven Years' War), United States' Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, and the United States' Civil War.

The land mass defined by the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean is the Delmarva Peninsula which includes the whole of Delaware (Del), the Eastern Shore of Maryland (Mar), and two counties of Virginia (Va). Contemporary place names such as Chesapeake, Nanticoke, Pocomoke, Quantico (Maryland), Chicamocomico, Wicomico, Manokin, Accohannock, Assateague, and many others on the peninsula reflect the names of tribes, subtribes, and native place names used long before first contact with Europeans.

The United States' Indian Removal Act of 1830, which resulted in the Trail of Tears episode in American history, required all indigenous people, with few exceptions, to leave their tribal lands in the southeast and east, along the eastern seaboard. Some tribal members on the Delmarva Peninsula as well as other areas in the east, defied the government and remained on their ancestral lands, hiding from authorities in the Great Pocomoke Forest, outlying islands, and swamps on the southern peninsula.

A conscious decision to "hide in plain sight" or not, they eventually intermarried and bred with local whites, African-Americans, and mulattoes. Many families whose ties to Delmarva date back a generation or more share a heritage with those aboriginal people; however,  the prejudice and racial bias of a bygone era caused many to ignore – even deny to this day, witnessed by this writer – their lineage.

Determination of one's "Indian-ness," usually based on persistent family lore and legend and aided by convenient and wide-ranging research resources available on the internet, has resulted in an upsurge of interest in Native American DNA that still exists on the Delmarva Peninsula. Although less concentrated among the peninsula's population than during America's Great Depression, Native American blood still courses through the veins of many of Delmarva's residents.



Author Bio: 
Born the first of three children to Charles and Lydia Gibbons in 1946 in Wilmington, Delaware, Bill's young family moved back to their homeland of Maryland’s lower Eastern Shore, part of the Delmarva Peninsula, shortly after his birth. There, he attended school and worked on the family farm in a community of farmers from whom he gained much of the knowledge of farm life that would show up in his writing decades later.

Following graduation from Wicomico Senior High School, Bill enlisted for four years in the U.S. Air Force, serving in Texas, Mississippi, Japan and Washington, D.C.   Upon completion of military service, he attended University of Delaware while working full-time as a laboratory technician and later as a computer programmer for a large, international chemical company in Wilmington, DE.  While attending college, he augmented his G.I. Bill tuition benefits with sales of his art, e.g. oils, pastels, and ink.

He was transferred to Atlanta, GA and Tampa, FL, working in industrial chemical sales, and eventually back to Wilmington, DE.   Taking early retirement from that company, Bill moved back to his childhood home of Salisbury, MD and entered the real estate sales, home improvement contracting and real estate investment fields.   While involved in real estate sales, he was a contributing columnist in the local Salisbury newspaper, writing about real estate sales, purchases, and investment.   Later, he was a political cartoonist for the same newspaper.

Bill entered college again at Salisbury University, a campus of the University of Maryland System, at the age of sixty-three with a double major in physics and philosophy.   As a result of academic successes in his writing at SU, paired with his experience with a newspaper column and political cartoon publications, Bill pursued his life-long ambition to write in the fiction genres.

Always a devotee to travel, all languages, and experiencing other cultures, Bill has lived and traveled in Asia, traveled throughout Europe and in most U.S. states and Canada.   He speaks, reads and writes Japanese, although not as fluently as he would wish, is a light airplane pilot, is currently studying Spanish, and is a member of Eastern Shore Writers Associationand American Mensa®.   He has also been published in Mensa® Bulletin, the organization's national monthly magazine.

On October 6, 2011, Bill's wife, Sharon, gave birth to their first child.

Find Bill  here: 




Buy his Books here: 



Please visit these other sites and leave a comment to win a $10 GFC to Wild Child Publishing.






Friday, March 15, 2013


2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award competition

A couple days ago, 3/13/13, I learned that my novel, The Fourth Marker, made it to the quarterfinals in the 2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award competition, one of 500 titles out of 10,000 original entries. My response surprised me.
I was gratified, of course, having my writing validated in an international competition. However, a month earlier, on Wednesday, 2/13/13, when I learned that my novel graduated from 10,000 entries to one of 2000 survivors for the second round, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face for hours. Wondering if I had read correctly, I checked the online list again, and yet again, and found that, indeed, my novel was still on the list.

Why did I react that way? Simple. When I first decided to enter the competition in early January, after many weeks of deliberation, my goal was simply to pass from the first round to the second round. I had no hopes or aspirations beyond that. Breaking into the second round was based solely on a 300-word pitch, much like the meat of a query letter to a literary agent. Like most writers who aspire to traditionally published authorship, I found query letters to be a baffling challenge, completely unlike writing a novel. I felt that, if my pitch was acceptable, I had a chance of walking through the front door of at least one literary agency or publisher…someday.
My pitch was the result of an evaluation by Marla Miller at http://marlamiller.com of my earlier attempt at a query letter. Although my pitch for the competition bears faint resemblance to that query letter, Marla's words demonstrated to me that a query letter, and by extension, my pitch, must be tantalizing, clear, and concise. Keeping her words in mind, I was able to compose a pitch that apparently stood on its own.

Don't get me wrong – when I recently learned that my novel also made it into the quarterfinals, a promotion based on its first 5000 words, I was very happy and pleasantly surprised, but the feeling didn't quite measure up to the euphoria I felt when it made the first cut. The first experience compared favorably to recently watching my little daughter take her first steps without assistance and her other small but equally earthshaking developments. Two of my short stories were published in a small, indie publisher's anthology and I am a published newspaper columnist and political cartoonist, but in this contest, my work stood up in a much larger world.
So, this is what it's like? Sending a manuscript out into the world to stand on its own legs and fend for itself is like sending your grown child into the world, hoping that everything you taught her through eighteen years is enough to protect her, develop her further, and make a life of her own.

I can only hope that both, my daughter and my novel, happily continue the journey.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013


The Public Slush Pile

 

The dreaded slush pile.

Writers view it as the place where manuscripts go to die, a symbolic elephants' graveyard of writers' aspirations. Slush piles are physical or virtual collections of unsolicited manuscripts that accrue in the offices of literary agents and smaller publishers. With luck, some manuscripts are reviewed by assistants or contract readers for literary merit and, if found worthy, passed up the food chain to an agent or editor for consideration.

At the end of my last post, I stated that I understand why writers turn to self-publishing after having their work validated by others – and after receiving multiple rejections from agents, the traditional "gatekeepers" of the industry. Although self-publishing precludes the need to add to traditional slush piles, they still exist in self-publishing – as the public slush pile.

One of the oft-noted results of self-publishing is the...how do I put this?...mass of amateurishly written, poorly presented, and/or ineptly marketed works offered to the public through self-publishing sites[1]. To be fair, that mass also certainly contains some of the best writing of this century[2]. So, the result of self-publishing is offerings that span the spectrum from some of the worst to some of the best writing available.

Some of those who would disparage the accumulation of self-published writing, from the shoddy to the shining, would also defend to the death the concept of capitalism, one of the basic tenets of which is free market competition.

Such competition is the connection to the public slush pile of freely-published short stories, novels, essays and other works available on sites such as Smashwords, Createspace, KDP, and others. Implied is the freedom to offer any product, within legal constraints of course, to the market for consideration.

In the tradition of free market economics, the consuming public will decide if a product is worthy of consideration and outlay of cash. The slush pile is open to the public and not hostage to the judgment of literary agents, publishers, and editors. Granted, one can question the judgment of, at least, American consumers when considering the sales of pet rocks, invisible dog leashes, viewers of "reality" shows, and the like; however, the freedom to make those buying decisions is pivotal to the free market system. Like Mark Coker, founder and CEO of Smashwords, wrote in a 12/23/12 blog post, "Readers are our gatekeepers."

It would not surprise me to see the self-publishing industry, barely out of diapers at this point, evolve to the point that, if left to its own devices, it becomes a self-correcting outlet for deserving writers and a source for consumers who wish to slog through the public slush pile.



[1]  A cursory review of offerings on self-publishing sites will confirm the existence of such writing and therefore are not referenced  separately here.
[2]  A simple search with Google® will uncover debut and previously published authors, who have been highly successful and critically acclaimed, on self-publishing sites and therefore are not referenced separately here.

Monday, January 7, 2013


Where Is Agents' Mutual Respect?

 
On the road to traditional publishing, it is virtually compulsory that writers query agents in an attempt to obtain representation. At this point, the writer begins a metaphoric game of darts – played in the dark. The lights are turned off and the dart board begins to move around the room in a random, haphazard fashion.

Agents are insulted if a query is addressed, "Dear Agent," and insist that a query be addressed to a specific agent. However, if the agent bothers to respond to the writer with a rejection, it is often addressed, "Dear writer" or "Dear author."

Many agents state that, if the writer does not hear from the agent within a specified time period, the writer should assume rejection, citing the high volume of queries as reasons that they are too busy to return the writer's respect. Further, agents expect a writer to submit a query, after dozens of hours spent polishing it, and if they respond to the writer at all, do so with an email comprised of perhaps ten words, tersely phrased. The message is simple and clear: Dear writer; I demand respect and my time is dear; however, you should not expect respect from me because your time is not as valuable as mine.

While reviewing 130 agency websites this past week, I discovered an agency who advises writers that they are too busy to respond to the writer unless they are interested; however, they ask that the writer advise them if another agency is interested in the work – the apex of agency arrogance. I am sure that there are more agencies with the same attitude.

If an agent's requirements for submission of a query are amenable to the writer and respectful to both parties, that doesn't mean that the dart board stops moving and the lights come on. If an agent is having a bad day, the chances of viewing a well-phrased, deserving query in a positive light can be dim, depending on the professionalism of the agent.

Many are fond of pointing out to novice writers that publishing is a business and should be treated as such. Others argue that the process is simply one that all writers must endure in order to earn their chops. Is writing a business or is it a sport ... for example, darts?

For those relatively few writers who have courted and won an agent, I submit that the query was enticing, the work well written, respect flowed bilaterally, and the agent saw a market for the piece. However, much more than a well-fletched, trimmed, and sharpened dart was involved. I further submit that the agent was contacted on a good day and the winds were steady and at the agent's back. In short, the writer threw a bull's-eye in the dark.

Although there is a relatively small contingent of agents who respect deserving writers – and online comments confirm their efforts – the majority appear unable to return the respect and professionalism that is so important to the agent. It should come as no surprise that talented writers, many who have gone through hell to finally – and sometimes only through luck – have their work validated by friends, family, independent editors, and online contacts and critiquers, turn to self-publishing.