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EMBERS - The Process

EMBERS - The Process




A self-published novel by j.m. bridgeman, EMBERS is the story of a few days in the life of Wyn McBride, a mature female artist who loves her career, her friends, her home, homes, in British Columbia, Canada. An opportunity to visit Ireland for the first time changes Wyn forever.

In this blog, EMBERSjmb.blogspot.ca/ I relive and share the process of writing the novel.


EMBERS took me about three years to write. I started it shortly after my return from my third visit to England, Scotland, and Ireland in 2013. I finished a fast first draft around the time of Seamus Heaney's death in 2013 and the final revision the month Leonard Cohen died in 2016. Somehow these two losses seemed to spur me to polish and to launch. Both poets speak to me about the importance of place, identity, and being fully human. I also heard the words of an old favourite, D.H. Lawrence, who insists that "you can put anything you want into a novel." And the silent encouragement of the Canadian mother of writers, Margaret Laurence, to "just do it."


Of course, we "do it" because writing gives us pleasure. It is only later that we consider whether it is possible our writing may give others pleasure as well. Dom Spiro Spero. While I breathe, I hope. 


I went looking for inspirational quotations about the writing process. I found some I like, but not yet the definitive. The quest continues. In the meantime:


"Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else." Gloria Steinem


 “Let the world burn through you. Throw the prism light, white hot, on paper.”
Ray Bradbury


“Remember: Plot is no more than footprints left in the snow after your characters have run by on their way to incredible destinations.”
Ray Bradbury


"Writing has laws of perspective, of light and shade just as painting does, or music. If you are born knowing them, fine. If not, learn them. Then rearrange the rules to suit yourself."
Truman Capote


"If it is true that there are as many minds as there are heads, then there are as many kinds of love as there are hearts." Leo Tolstoy, as cited in Common Ground

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EMBERS

EMBERS A self-published novel by j.m. bridgeman, EMBERS is the story of a few days in the life of Wyn McBride, a mature female artist who loves her career, her friends, her home, homes, in British Columbia, Canada. An opportunity to visit Ireland for the first time changes Wyn forever.

Title

Titles are so important. I'm happy with this one, EMBERS , especially with John O'Donohue's "embers of kinship" phrase, and also because it alludes to the title of a song on Jim Byrnes' Fresh Horses referenced in the story. My first working title was Clara . It is the name of a small town in Ireland. But there are many female characters in CanLit named Clara, and I wanted to avoid any unfortunate crossover. Also, to me, the book is not about Ireland. It is about what a Canadian woman learns about herself and her country while she is on a trip to Ireland. Another title was Accommodations because so many of Wyn's adventures take place in motel rooms and B&Bs. And I like the idea that, all her life, Wyn has attempted to accommodate herself and her life choices to address her often unconscious needs.  I also toyed with Claritas , with Shine , and with Turning Into Light (from an Eastern poet, Hafiz). I was serious about this "writing ...

The Fire Within

The Fire Within One of my private passion pastimes is photography. I love the word origin--writing with light. I used to think that I was  always trying to "capture the light." As if it is prey and I am the hunter. Or the quester. As if the light is magic.  For  me, the most obvious hiding place for light (and its brokenness, colour) is in flowers. There is a reason why I was called  the "Flower Girl" in my family. Not only because I got to be in Auntie Olive's wedding party. Not only because I always  brought bouquets into the house--buds, greenery, blossoms. I just love them. But I also see these "hot flower pics" as  connected to the "embers" theme, because for sure, is not the fire here too, seeping out of the light at the flowers'  cores?  I heard that fire hidden in the seemingly cold cinders once described as "the mothering fire" and that is  another subtext in this novel. Mothering. Kindling. Warmth. Love.