Charlotte Rains Dixon

Excellent News

Well, the meeting about the ghostwriting may have been a terrible debacle but I did get some excellent news yesterday.

The writing certificate program I teach at in Nashville (actually it is part of the Continuing Education Department at Middle Tennessee State University in Murfreesboro) has, of late, been....how shall I say this delicately....well, it has of late been the poor orphan child of the department.  As in, totally ignored.

However, my fellow mentor Terry Price and I have long cast covetous eyes on the program, thinking if only we could get our hands on it, we could build it back up and make it into the writing program it deserves to be.

Well, folks, the time has come for us to quit casting and start acting because as of today, Terry and I are now the new Program Directors of the Loft. 

This is all new and it is so new that we don't even have a website to point you to.  More information will follow as it develops--I'll be putting up a page on this site to let you know all the details.  What it means is that from now on, except for existing students and online classes to be developed in the future, all my teaching will be through the Loft. 

For those of you in the Nashville area, we'll be holding orientations and other local events.  But there will be a component for people who reside elsewhere (after all, I live in Oregon) which may include teleseminars and so forth.  Or, you might want to just have the option of working one on one with a mentor, which is a powerful way to learn and the heart of the Loft program.  This can be done no matter where you live.

Additionally, I'm now going to start taking advantage of the fact that I am a certified coach and focus attention on coaching writers.   What's the difference between coaching writers and mentoring them?  I'll be writing much more about this on my new coaching writing website, but for now think of it this way: if you like to write but have a lot of questions about how to write, you probably need a writing mentor or a writing class.  If you've been through all the classes and know your stuff pretty well, but can't seem to find a way to get yourself to write, you need a writing coach. 

As always, email me if you are interested.  There will be much more information on both the Loft and the coaching to come.

Critiquing Nightmares

I've written about critiquing before. 

(I know, I know, the good blogging thing to do would be to look back and find all the links--because it was a multi-part series--but getting a post up is all I'm good for after the day I've had. Update: I caved.  See the end of this post for links.  Okay, you asked, so I will tell you.  I had a meeting with a potential client this morning that ended up being a meeting with seven other people.  Are you surprised that we spent two hours together and nothing got done and I walked out of there with only vague promises about future work? Then I met my screen writing friend for coffee and got even more depressed listening to his stories of near-misses.  Not of car accidents, but might as well be--he keeps getting his scripts to producers only to have them rejected.  Or worse, never to hear from them again.  Which is worse--Hollywood or New York? We couldn't decide.)

So, anyway, about critiquing.  Even though I've written about it before I have a new wrinkle to add to my delicate previous thoughts.  A friend, who shall remain nameless, as will the city she lives in, but let me just say it is far, far away from the west coast, wrote with a dilemma.  She meets in a weekly critique group and one of the women in the group has quite a good novel except for two wee problems: no plot and no conflict.  That could actually be classified as one problem, since plot is conflict, at least to a certain extent.

My friend's problem was that she has repeatedly brought this up to the plot-less, unconflicted writer to no avail.  Now let me just say that the afore-mentioned friend is a published author, and also one of the best writing teachers I know.  She knows her stuff backwards and forwards.  And the woman in her critique group is simply not paying attention.

What's a person to do?

As I see it, there are two choices.  The first is the Way of the Chicken--you smile and nod and agree with the rest of the group and assume that the plot-less, un-conflicted writer is happy being a hobbyist and doesn't really want to get published.  I learned long ago that some people truly want you to read their work and gush about how great it is, without offering any criticism whatsoever.

Option number two is the Way of Truth--you amp up the comments in such a vociferous way that the plot-less one finally gets it.  This is a perilous path, because hurt feelings and anger are sure to result.  However, if a person is truly interested in getting published, you are not doing anybody any favors by ignoring the truth.  They will find out sooner or later, and when they do they may get even more pissed at you for not telling them.

Neither path is too appealing, eh?  That is why it is a dilemma.  However, when it comes to writing (and life, too) it is always best to choose the Way of Truth.

Okay, I give up, I feel too guilty.  Here are the links to the earlier posts on critiquing:

Life in Writing Hell: Being Critiqued

Being Critiqued, Part Two

Being Critiqued, Part Three

Critiquing, Part Four: Giving as Good as You Get

The Character Who Wasn't Dead

I've been a bit stuck on my novel recently. 

I'm still not very far into it, only within the first 50 pages and so I'm at that point where getting stuck could have dire consequences, ie, the whole damn thing could fall apart. 

When one gets stuck in the early stages of writing a novel one runs the risk of convincing oneself that its the novel's fault and one shouldn't write it anyway.  Then one begins to ruminate, why be a novelist?  And then, why write?  And then before one knows it one has gotten out the bottle of Cabernet and, well, then one gets no more writing done.  And one has a hangover in the morning.

So I've been at that stage of the novel.  And what happened was that I got my characters to a funeral.  The two main characters are sisters and it was their beloved grandmother Edna who had died.  But, I have to tell you, we have been at that damn funeral for the last two months.  I'm not kidding.  Edna had the longest-lasting funeral in the history of the world, ever.  And furthermore, nothing happened at it.  No matter how I tried to make the characters interact and move and talk, it didn't matter.  Nothing happened.  I simply couldn't move forward.

And let's be clear.  It is not as if I don't have enough other writing with which to occupy myself.  I just finished a book for Atlantic Publishing and I'm here in LA to meet with a client about ghost-writing.  And there is my journal, and this blog.  So if my characters are stuck at a funeral, it is a huge temptation just to leave them there until they either learn their lesson or get so bored they start behaving.

But yesterday, while lolling in the warm sun of LA (it was a sacrifice, especially to all of you in snow-covered parts of the country, but I did it for your own good), I had a revelation.  Perhaps it was the feeling of the 75 degree air around me that warmed my brain to the point that all the Oregon moss finally dried up, allowing creative thoughts to surface.

Whatever it was, the blinding flash as the thought entered my head must have been visible for miles around.  Here it is:

Edna isn't dead. 

There could not be a funeral for the beloved grandmother who died because she didn't die. 

Oh, duh. 

I thought I needed her death as an inciting incident for the story but it turns out that another incident will work ever so much better plot-wise anyway.  And this brings me to the point of this diatribe post which is that often when we get blocked it is for a reason.  Now that doesn't sound very earth-shaking, but it is true.

We get blocked for a reason and that reason is that something is not right.  There is an element of the novel or story or screenplay which simply isn't working.  And then it is your job (as it should have occurred to me to do much earlier) to figure out what element that is.  Possibilities include all the usual suspects:

• Character
• Plot
• Location
• All of the above

In the case of Edna not being dead, it was both character and plot related.  But I've had this occur with location, too, when the scene I was writing was occurring in the wrong place.   So the best thing to do when you get blocked is to ask yourself the simple question:

What is wrong?

And then run through the above list and see if you can make a connection.  Over time, you may well find other common wrongnesses and if so, add them to your list.  And then all you have to do is remember to ask  yourself the question in the first place.  I could have saved myself a couple months worth of not working if I'd remembered sooner.

The Academy Awards, or How to Present an Awards Show Without a Lot of Lead Time for Writing

Did you watch the Academy Awards last night? I did, at least the last couple hours of them. They were okay, and was it just me, or did they actually finish on time? Probably because they were just the wee-est bit lacking in, well, written material.

It was the first thing that Suzanne and I noticed. (I’m in Pasadena at the moment, for a ghost-writing assignment and to take a thetahealing workshop which I finished this weekend.) The Oscars basically used film clips from old shows to fill in many of the moments that normally would have been written sketches or monologues. They showed montages of past presentations of each award, which I actually liked. Now, I’m certain the producers would tell you it was because of the 80th anniversary of the Oscars, but I’m equally certain that it was a convenient way to deal with a lack of prep time for writers.

I know, I know, the strike ended a couple weeks ago. But a couple of weeks is not a very long lead time to come up with material for a show on the magnitude of the Academy Awards.

My favorite moments were when the male half of the duo who one for best song from the movie Once raised his Oscar in the air and said, “Make art! Make art!” and then there wasn’t enough time for the woman to speak but they brought her out later and she talked all about having hope as an artist. And the second best moment (because the above really counts as only one) was when the woman won for best screenwriter for the film Juno, and she dedicated the award to all the writers. She had an awful dress on, but no matter, she was cool.

I’m just glad the strike is over and they pulled the ceremony off. Now everyone can get back to work and the economy of this strange and wonderful place can get back to normal.

Update: I just found this link where you can go to read the full story about the Best Song Co-Winners.

The Fine Art of Observation

Yesterday I wrote about ways we writers might find to avoid facing the page.

It is one thing to write about it, but yet another to find ways to stop such unproductive behaviors and get onto the fun work of writing.  So how does one conquer these procrastination habits? 

If I had the answer to that I'd be selling the secret on this blog for a million dollars.

I don't have the answer but I do know something that can begin to help and that is observation.  It works because it is a way of tricking yourself, or as the Zen folks might say, tricking the ego.  You don't have to make a solemn vow that you will never, ever, procrastinate again, all you have to do is agree with yourself that you will observe your behavior.

Since you are a writer, you may even want to write your observations down.  So, say you have a block of time and you want to use that time to write.  But down you sit at your laptop and no words come.  Instead you decide that what you really need is a snack.  And then you go and fix the snack and sit and read the newspaper or the latest issues of O, or worse, People, and before you know it, the time you had allotted for writing is gone.

The usual reaction to wasting time like this is anger and this is when our I'll never, ever do this again reaction sets in.  We vow to reform.  We vow that tomorrow we will sit down and write words that will win us a Pulitzer Prize.  But tomorrow comes and the same thing happens all over again.

So next time, quit with the solemn vows and judgment and agree simply to observe.  Write down your observations in your journal.  That is all you have to do.  You don't have to change the behavior, or get mad at yourself.  All you have to do is observe.

Physicists have recently discovered that the act of observing a subject changes the subject.  The act of observing yourself is no different and a funny thing happens.  Once you start making the behavior conscious--you're writing about it, after all--it can't help but change.    

You might be surprised at what path the change takes, but change you will.  One caveat: the art of observation is like the fine art of letting go.  You can't set out to observe and force the ending.  Just observe and see what you see.  You may come up with something completely unexpected and delightful.

How Do You Avoid The Moment of Facing the Page?

Do you approach every writing session with hope, joy and expectation, eager to get to work? 

If so, could you please share some of what you've got with me and the rest of the world.  Like the famous When Harry Met Sally Meg Ryan scene in which the old woman in the restaurant watches her fake an orgasm and says, "I'll have what she's having," I want some ease when it comes to facing the page.

I've been thinking about this a lot for several reasons.  One is that since finishing the assignment that took all my time last week, I've actually had time to write.  Well, if I hadn't had social events all weekend I would have had time to write.  And yet, now that I actually have time to work on my own projects, I'm finding it hard to face the blank computer screen.

Second, I've been reading the new Julia Cameron book, The Writing Diet: Writing Yourself Right-Sized. It is Cameron's contention that people sometimes eat to tamp down their creative energy.   In running Artist's Way groups, she would notice that people would naturally drop pounds over the course of the class, and so she decided to adapt her creativity exercises for dieters.  (The good news for the other slacker writers in the world being that these are for the most part exercises you will do on paper, not with your body.)

So here's my list of things I do to avoid facing the page:

Eat.  Or at least think about eating.  Get up, look in the refrigerator, ponder the contents of the cupboard, decide I need to figure out what's for dinner, and so on.

Check email.  This is the worst one for me.  Here's how it goes:  I pause to think and take a break, then click on my email.  If that's all I did, it would be fine.  But no, if someone has actually written me, then of course I have to open the message and see what they wrote.  And then of course I also have to write back.  I'm convinced we lose more in productivity to email than any other cause.  I now close down all of my inboxes (I have three I check regularly) when I'm writing so I'm not tempted by them.

Smoking.  I don't do this anymore, thank God, but I do know that it is a great time waster, especially since in most places one must go outside to smoke.  There are people who live in this very same house with me who often sashay outside to smoke in order to avoid other projects.  Not being judgmental, just sayin'.  And I know when I used to smoke that I'd often stop and light a cigarette if I got stuck.

Cleaning.  This is something I should do more of, but not when I'm supposed to be writing.  I always say if my house is clean, you know I'm temporarily blocked on my writing.  If its a mess, the writing is going well.

Wander.  As in, getting up and roving aimlessly about the house.  This can actually also have the reverse effect, which is to encourage your brain to come up with the answer it has been seeking, so it is not all bad.

And now I must go check my email. 

Writing Fast

Yes, I've probably written a post with that title before, but I can't think of another that will do quite as well.

Last weekend at a party I met a columnist for one of our local papers, and he was talking about how he agonized over every word and how it took him so long to write each one of his columns.  This writer told me how he doesn't really consider himself a writer, more of an expert on the topic he writes about. 

So of course I opened my big mouth and said how I had been known, upon occasion to write 25,000 word ebooks in five days. 

That didn't go over so big.

And I can see why--after all, it sounds ridiculous to me as I write it now.  But in the world of copywriting, and particularly internet copywriting, one is sometimes called upon to write fast.  Speed is of the essence, baby--and sometimes it is the only essence.  I do pride myself on my work, however, and I even when I'm writing fast I do my best to produce a quality product.

The truth of the matter is that writing fast is fun.  And I'm convinced that it sometimes--not always, but sometimes--produces a product that is as good if not better than a piece that has been agonized over.    At the same time, I am a huge believer in the writing process--writing a draft, and then another, and another and another.  And many of my copy assignments would be better if I had time to go back over them a couple times.  But even when I do, I'm often surprised at how well the first draft stands up.

Why?  Because in not having time to obsess over every word, I'm able to go directly to the source and pull out the words that are lurking within.  I swear, those words really like to come out and play--they just want to be asked.  And, like any of us, who wants to play with someone who is wringing her hands and whining about how hard it all is? 

So next time you sit down to write, try these tips:

Set a timer.  Give yourself a certain amount of time to finish the project, set a timer and then stop when the timer goes off--even if you are in the middle of a sentence.  It worked for Hemingway, so it will work for you.

Give yourself a word limit.  Say you want to make progress on a novel.  Set yourself a certain number of words or pages to write every day.  Good goals are three pages a day or 1000 words.  3 pages a day may not sound like much, but at the end of a week, you've got 21 pages and at the end of a month, 84.  Damn!  That's a lot of pages.  It surprised even me, I had to go back and check my addition.  That is a third of a novel, people.

Write every day.  I know, I know, you're plugging your ears and saying, "Nah, nah, nah, I can't hear you," because you really don't want to hear it.  But the truth is that writing every day makes it easier to pull those words out to play and it keeps the momentum going, too.

And now, I promise, no more posts on this topic for awhile. 

Commitment and Integrity

I know, I know, its been two weeks since I've posted anything.  First I was in New York City for AWP, and then I came home to the bitter reality that I had a few short days to finish a book I've been working on for certain publisher who shall remain nameless.

This project has been a lesson in many ways, both practical and spiritual.  I found that I was often resentful as I wrote (who, me?) because, to be honest, the good folks at teh publishing house simply aren't paying enough.  I'm pretty sure they know this, and the truth is that I and 34 other writers signed on to do books for them at seriously-underpaid wages.  We knew what we were getting into and got into it willingly.  I did it because the project stretched over three months, with deadlines and payments at intervals, and I liked the idea of having a reliable base income for those months, even if it wasn't much. 

But as work progressed, it became clear that I'd underestimated how long it would take me to complete the book and I became more and more aware of how I'd sold myself short.  Sometimes, I think, we have to truly experience something like this before we are ready to sit up, respect ourselves, and start asking for what we are worth.   It got so bad that a couple times I wanted to just bag it all.  I came perilously close to contacting my editor and telling her I couldn't finish.  But this would have been a first in my career and I really couldn't see myself doing it, much as I would have liked to.  So I soldiered on, because I'd made a commitment and signed a contract. 

So the first lesson I learned was to value myself more highly.  But the other one I learned may have been even more profound.

Part of the project required me to get Case Studies from people.  I wrote a simple questionnaire which took at the most 10 minutes to answer.  They also had to sign a release that their answers could appear in the book.  As I went about my business over the last few months, I asked everyone I knew if they knew people who worked in the nonprofit fields and got many enthusiastic responses.  People were happy to help me, they would love to participate and so on and so forth.  But when I sent out the questionnaire, in return I got, well, radio silence. 

This continued to happen through successively more desperate emails and requests as my deadline approached.  I even asked them please just to let me know if they were unable to participate.  That didn't even get any responses.  I've never seen anything like it before in my life.  I was truly stunned--each one of these people had said they would love to participate.

(And let me be clear that eventually some people contacted me, and let me know they were unable to participate for good reasons and I am not talking about them here because I am grateful to them.)

I was feeling bitter and angry.  And, as my Zen friend Derek pointed out, I was also deeply engaged in playing the blame game.  Again, who, me?  Yes, me.  So finally, I just had to let it all go and not worry about it.  But this experience made me look at my own commitments and integrity.  I found one thing I'd said I'd do that I hadn't finished and I immediately emailed the person and asked what I could do to make up for it.  The moral of the story: really, if you don't want to do something, just say so up front, okay?  It is much easier on all concerned.  Honestly.