The Christmas Shaker | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

The Christmas Shaker | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

The Lemon Tree--A commentary on the book and its contents | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

The Lemon Tree--A commentary on the book and its contents | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Now & Then a Holiday Challenge | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Now & Then a Holiday Challenge | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Rain Power | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Rain Power | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

New York Moments | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

New York Moments | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

The Five Essentials for Living with a Silent Killer | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

The Five Essentials for Living with a Silent Killer | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

The Wind | Karen Devaney | Article/Story/Poem/Essay | Red Room

The Wind | Karen Devaney | Article/Story/Poem/Essay | Red Room

Part of my upcoming Poetry Collection  Crooked Thoughts   I will sharing a few poems beforehand for those who are lovers of Poetry!

Artista by the Sea & What Influences my writing | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Artista by the Sea & What Influences my writing | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Sweeping the Stoop & The Lesson of Repetition | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Sweeping the Stoop & The Lesson of Repetition | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

The Art of Marriage a Reflection on Anniversaries | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

The Art of Marriage a Reflection on Anniversaries | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Living Little | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Living Little | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Why so Angry? | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Why so Angry? | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Humor Heals | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Humor Heals | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Tell about your own humor therapy!  Here's to hilarity!

Silent Misogyny | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Silent Misogyny | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room An observation about Picasso at the Lapin Agile

Remnants of the Past | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Remnants of the Past | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

A funny read about women and their grandmothers.  Would love to hear your stories as well!

Writing Female Characters

The other day I was captivated by the words of a sixteen year old girl, Malala Yousafzai the young Pakistani student who was shot by the Taliban, survived, and has resumed with added fervor her passion--equal education for women and girls.  Her speech set my thoughts on the volumes of female stereotypes writers conscious or unconsciously perpetuate.  Women nurses, wives, artists, lovers, activists in stories are often portrayed with a particular set of personality traits that fit neatly into a typecast.  As a woman writer, I feel it is my duty to deconstruct these negating traits and make my female characters interesting—even when they are boring, funny even when they are sad, sexual even when they are smart.  In other words create a plot line that revolves around the threads of uncharacteristic women.

Successful women are not all bitchy or domineering—many are demure insightful, empathic.  Not all women are obsessed with shopping and shoes—I for one could give a hoot about either.  My husband, on the other hand comes from a heritage of shopping shoe-aholics but you won’t find that in a book.  Why do writers preserve these tired unimaginative stereotypes of women?  Money I suppose but I don’t dare launch into that discussion for the sake of time and the lack of it. I am suggesting that we raise our consciousness and write characters that lead to new perspectives and give insight to the complexity of character rather than relying on a cookie cutter.

Recently I was directing an original play where a nurse had a pivotal role.  The actress who played this part chose an overbearing uptight approach to the character.  When I questioned her choices she said; “Well you know nurses, they are all bossy know it alls.” Strange, I had worked as an RN and know plenty of non-bossy very cool women.  My grandmother was a nurse; she was a free thinking hippy before her time.  I insisted she revamp her choices.  My point here is to reiterate how easily it is to be conditioned by our past experiences, society, and are own limiting vistas.

     In my two latest novels, Artista by the Sea and With Crow; The Tale of Two Sisters I fought against writing scenarios that fell in stride with caricatures of women (although I realize they can contribute to the humor).  Rather, I tried to focus on how the story could be told collectively by each woman.  The characters in Artista are an amalgamation of females some traditional some not.  For example the grandmother, Alessandra, is a rebel during an era of suppression, a free thinking artist who had to escape Italy during the rise of Fascism.  Her daughter, Isabella,  took a more conservative approach to life and her family coddling a traditional role despite her frustrations. But she too is multidimentional and is a lovable hilariously gregarious character.  It is Juliana, the protagonist and granddaughter of Alessandra, who is an independent spirit fighting to detach from the dualities of raising a daughter as a single mother and following her dreams.  Many women, including myself, have been in this struggle and know how difficult it can be to buck societal pigeonholes.   

With Crow is laden with gender bias busters while reflecting on young girls who live outside of  norms or trendy rules examining their fears and desires to belong. Most women remember the pains of youth; discovering sexuality, self, and feeling the tidal pull of what others expect of us.  I took the opportunity to see what this looks like through the lives of two sisters seeking to know more about their parents who perished in a car accident when they were young.  The girls are brave and self sustaining--modern day adventurers traveling to find answers. 

I equate the female character issue with the cataloging of racial diversity among characters as well.  In With Crow; The Tale of Two Sisters, the sisters encounter their Native American heritage as they learn about the secrets of their past. As a writer, creating complex interracial characters is critical and another way to set the stage for either exposing prejudices and/or sharing various cultural differences.    Michelle Alexander, the author of The New Jim Crowa a nonfiction book that deals with the effects of lingering racism, discusses the injustice of stereotyping.  For instance she points out that white suburban kids are given preferential treatment when found with marijuana over urban black or brown teens.  As a writer, I can create characters that have somehow lived through this dichotomy and portray how it alters their world and ultimately impacts all of us.  Women and girls of color have an even greater barrier to break through.

We women writers owe it to ourselves to expand from the confines of what it means to be female and to rewrite the definition in our own words.  As Malala spoke about the strength required to rise from the fists of suppression to abandon the shackles of discrimination and walk hand in hand in creating a world where all women are educated; I felt my anger and pride swell.  It is time as sisters as authors to write as often as we can for those who have no voice—not yet.  But they will—and their stories will be told.  Their stories of courage and resolve will penetrate the world’s ignorance and I want to know that in some way I have done my part to fight for the freedom of education to unlock the chains of domination and shame.

Mind you there are times when stereotypes are interesting or funny or even necessary to drive the characters to their destiny.  I realize this seems juxtaposition to all that I’ve been spouting about thus far but hear me out. Cultural and personal differences make the world tasty and interesting and at times familiar.  In that familiarity often lays a chunk of humor—that smile of recognition.  For example, my mother who is Italian is very passionate about her beliefs—whether she was influenced by   generational, familial, or religious ties is a continual debate.  But I have written subtlies that allude to the way she navigates life (which she took note of I might add) and use these traits to highlight conflict in the personality of other female characters.  So, sometimes stereotypes are a necessary tool.

I write children’s books in addition to  novels and feel equally committed in this genre to writing female characters that represent a difference.  These stories hopefully will plant a seed in the mind of both boys and girls and will help to banish those good ole fairytales where the princess lives only for her prince—please!  (And to think I used to love to be Cinderella but it just never worked out for me--and no I'm not bitter merely wiser.)

So women let us pick up our pens (or computer keys really) and be part of the movement to portray girls and women in nontraditional roles in order to make the world a more balanced place to dream.

Let's Dance | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Let's Dance | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room  A Reflection on the power of dance!

To be Gay or not to be is that the Question? | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

To be Gay or not to be is that the Question? | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Happy 4th of July.  Here is a reflection of our freedoms.

Peace to All

Dance practice with Tamala This what I will teach next week!!! Love it

Health Care vs Sick Care--Honestly! | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Health Care vs Sick Care--Honestly! | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

The Magic of Story | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

The Magic of Story | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Whatever Happened to Ladies First? | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Whatever Happened to Ladies First? | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Elitism Destroys Community | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Elitism Destroys Community | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Publishing Nightmare | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Publishing Nightmare | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

This is for all of us--Women Writers--it is time to arise and step out from the wings into the spotlight!

Visitation and follow-up blog | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Visitation and follow-up blog | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

A follow up Blog about death.  I welcome your thoughts and comments

Suicide | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Suicide | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

When it's time to Break the Rules | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

When it's time to Break the Rules | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Stop Judging Start Listening | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

Stop Judging Start Listening | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room  I would love your opinion on this latest Blog about the power of Unity!

Thank you for reading!

Karen

What if? A Reflection of an Education Revolution | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room

What if? A Reflection of an Education Revolution | Karen Devaney | Blog Post | Red Room  Please take a read and leave your thoughts!

Thanks you

Karen

Fear | Karen Devaney | Article/Story/Poem/Essay | Red Room

Fear | Karen Devaney | Article/Story/Poem/Essay | Red Room

From East to West | Karen Devaney | Article/Story/Poem/Essay | Red Room

From East to West | Karen Devaney | Article/Story/Poem/Essay | Red Room

Take a read and leave a comment

Fear | Karen Devaney | Article/Story/Poem/Essay | Red Room

Fear | Karen Devaney | Article/Story/Poem/Essay | Red Room

Dinner Rituals and Reflections

Dinner Rituals and Reflections

As I minced the basil and tomatoes fixing to toss them in the mix of squash and mushrooms sautéing on the stove, I began to ponder the many rituals of dinner.  Dinner was and is my favorite meal as this is the time when the family crawls in from their weary day ready to chat and laugh and eat.  Well, at least that is always how it was and is with my family.  When my daughters were still living with me, no matter how late in the evening, dinner was sacred and roll call was taken.  Absences were ill tolerated and therefore rarely happened.  This was not accomplished through threats and defaming rather it was the ritual itself that quelled objections.  The dinner ritual became the fortress against the world where we could defuse the harsh demands of modern life. Light candles, put on soft music, prepare and break bread over good old fashion conversation. 

The dinner ritual began when I was a child--I would race in asking what was on the menu.  I loved to eat in those days, a habit I have continued.  I relished the telling of tales and laughter that floated through the air.  There was a real sense of belonging.  We never ate in front of a television or separately--if one of us in the family was delayed--dinner was as well.  Dinner was where you spilled your guts over happy/sad events of the day.  It was in a way a conflict resolution forum.  Airing grievances over meatloaf and mashed potatoes was easier that a mere conversation in the hallway.

As a single mom, I insisted on keeping the dinner rituals as a way of unifying the family, however small or large it was at that particular time.  Misfit friends often supped with the girls and I marveling at the fact we actually ate together-- every night.  When asked about their personal family dinner traditions, often they would lament that there were none.  

The dinner ritual had a sense of collaboration.  As the girls got older they became proficient sous chefs, table decorators, and meal planners.  Often we wouldn't sit down to eat until after nine (the European style I suppose) when all the outside activities; dance, theatre, soccer, or whatever had ended. But there was always a feeling of "ahhh" a sense of renewal.  Savoring these moments, both of my daughters are ardent keepers of the sacramental meal. When we are re-united the sentiment is the same--one chops, one sets, all clean.  My new husband (who grew up deprived of dinner rituals) has fallen in tow and we too never eat in front of a machine.  Rather we sip our wine and beer, then plop down to converse while stuffing our faces.

With the barrage of distractions, honoring dinner rituals is declaring war on technology.  Shut off any semblance of a screen light some candles and sit down to a meal together.  Ease family tensions away with even the simplest of meals; soup and salads or home cooked burritos or pasta--reinvent your personal cuisine.  My new favorite is Indian recipes.  Tune the world out and say yes to an age old tradition of breaking bread with those you love! 

Where Have All the Daydreams Gone?

                    Where Have all the Day Dreams Gone?

Sitting in a window seat of a packed café in Sonoma (Norcal)—I glanced around noticing the young mother with a baby bundled in pink—its little fur shoes bobbing up and down, to her left was a chiseled chin man in a black overcoat clutching his briefcase, and to the right a teenager huddled away from an old man with a cane.  No one was speaking—the drone of the espresso machine brought me back to Italy where I had visited a few years back. Italians are talkers!  Everyone, except the older man with the cane and myself, had either headphones or some sort of device plugged into their ears—their minds and imaginations prisoners of technology.  Like the old Peter Paul & Mary song, Where Have All the Flowers Gone, I wondered Where did all the daydreams drift?  As we whirl about in our busy schedules, there is little time for daydreaming.  Daydreams are reflections of our passion and creativity.   Mp3 players, Ipods, cell phones, mini televisions the size of your pinky toe nail, and itsy bitsy computers have robbed  and muted  this innate and healthy form of escape and problem solving.

     Daydreaming entices the mind to wander, (it has been scientifically proven if you don’t believe me Google it).  Daydreams help us relax the analytical brain and allow the creative self to see things from a different vista point.   Daydreaming takes your cooped up mind for a walk.  As a writer, daydreaming is part of my job. Heck it was a daydream that prompted this piece. Had I been listening to music or working on my computer thoughts and scenarios would have snuck past me like a tip toeing burglar robbing me blind.  Daydreams can be useful counselors helping you sort out difficulties.  How?  By letting the mind relax, deflect fear, and visualize innovative solutions

     Daydreams remind us who we are.  They tap us on the shoulder and show us images we can either disregard (the negative ones) or embed (the positive ones) soaking our psychic with affirmations.   Daydreams help us manifest our desires.  As children, daydreaming comes naturally; one of my personal favorites was picturing myself as a famous dancer.  Martha Graham had nothing on me when I was starring in my own daydream. Although I may not be a famous dancer, I do teach and dance African, Haitian, and Brazilian styles of dance.  I literally became my daydream performing and adoring the joys of dancing.

     Daydreams unlock our imagination, which for many of us is as rusty as an old bicycle that has been left out in the rain for years.  Daydreaming is a potent catalyst to creativity.  My first children’s book, Frederick the Forgetful Rattler  was born from a walk in the woods and a humorous daydream   I see (and hear) many people now, even when in nature, stuffing their ears with music or a chat (over nothing) on the cell phone.  Just the other day strolling down Sonoma’s peaceful bike path (the red winged blackbirds were in a full concerto) I had a woman come up behind me discussing her boyfriend’s sexual dysfunction!  Sadly my daydreams took flight, fearing for their lives.

Speaking of nature—I may sound Ralph Waldo-ish but please, Mother Nature offers a plethora of melodies without a download fee. Listening to the wind whistle through the leaves or the babbling of a stream soothes my nerves and makes me feel connected once again to the earth.  How many of us find that when listening to the swooshing sounds of waves on the sand a sense of tranquility drapes around us? A natural relaxant.

Back to the cafe, the older gentleman and I dropped into a marvelous conversation about how things have changed (Did I mention I am part Italian). He was the last of his family to survive a WWII camp and had one fascianting sentence after the other. He was the source of my daydream on the way home and the inspiration for this blog. We were basically having a private conversation as everyone else was tuned out. Wake up—unplug—let your mind plunge into a warm memory that makes you smile or relax or recalls your strength—Daydream about the book you will write or the vacation you will have or the countries you will visit while dressed up as a clown spreading laughter to children the world over.  Whatever your daydream is  indulge it—you can Twitter about it later.