EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT WRITING I LEARNED FROM MY DOG

Current Project: OPEN SKY BOOKS
Status: Chapter Three, first book

This is Bonnie. As you can see, she's changed a lot in six months. By the way, that's a copy of one my books, Royal Heir, she's got in her mouth. When we finally wrested it away from her, it was missing half its cover and pages 1-7. Everybody's a critic...

Okay, so maybe Bonnie didn't teach me everything I know about writing but as those of us who live with dogs realize they do have a way of living in the moment that is captivating. These are the top four lessons Bonnie reminds me of on a daily basis:

THE JOURNEY is what counts. This one comes home to me every sunny afternoon as we walk in the park. Inevitably, we end up at the baseball diamond, and if there's no one around, she gets to be free of her leash. As soon as she sees the field, she goes through the gate. Picture it. A crescent of red breasted robins on one side of the field, Bonnie on the other. The face off. Tension mounts. And then she charges. Birds fly everywhere. They cheat, the little scoundrels, by going over parts of the fence without a gate. She grinds to a halt, looks around for more birds, and soon dispatches those as well. She never comes close to catching one but her spirit is undaunted, it's the thrill of the chase she's after, the matching of wits with a few ounces of feathers and beak. Writing is a journey, but at times, we get so focused on a goal we forget to enjoy the process. Not Bonnie.

FLOTSAM AND JETSAM. In the last week or so on our morning and afternoon walks, Bonnie discovered the following: One tennis ball. One bone of undisclosed origin. One empty Tic Tack container. One abandoned dog collar with a corroded tag. Three sheets of wet paper. A small stack of mini Oreos. An old rubber gasket. The tin hold down strip for a rain gutter. A purple Hot Wheels truck. A banana peel. Beer cans, Pepsi cups. A child's mitten, half a baseball cap, a man's flip-flop ... the list goes on and on. She finds these things because she is a dog with a keen sense of smell and because she has never met a spot she wasn't willing to investigate. She loves these things for a time, the castoffs she can carry and throw and pretend to lose. Some she re-finds every day, some are lost or misplaced by another dog. And I am reminded of a conversation with a friend who lamented the paucity of Christmas tree farms in Colorado because wouldn't that make a great place for a chase scene. I said, you can use it in another book. She said, no, it just wouldn't work the way she wanted. I asked if I could have it. She gave it to me and I used it. Keep eyes and ears open, one writer's throw away can be another writer's treasure.

NEVER GIVE UP -- persistence pays off. Bark loud enough, long enough and eventually, someone will open the door and let you in, let you out, play tug-o-war with a sock or engage you in a rousing game of tug-the bunny, take you for a walk, give you a treat, do something, anything to shut you up. And what writer doesn't need to keep that in mind?

Lastly, there's this: BEWARE OF THINGS OUT OF PLACE. A laundry basket is just a basket whose contents are to be swiped and chewed to bits UNLESS it's sitting on top of the burn barrel outside where it has never sat before. A shiny pan is just a pan for licking when opportunity arises UNLESS it is hanging on a hook up high and reflecting light. A rake is just a rake to attack when someone tries to use it UNLESS it's sitting by the side of the road where it has never sat before. Then one must stop, raise all hairs, bark like crazy jumping backwards with every woof, alert the family there's a disaster in the making, everyone run, it's the end of the world! Eventually, a tired looking woman introduces you to your biggest, most scariest fear and lo and behold, turns out it's just a laundry basket or a shiny pan or a rake, it's not a monster after all. I leave it to you to tie this one into writing. It just cracks me up.

Like Bonnie.