Word Strumpet

Warming Up, or The Art of Recycling Manuscripts

In writing, nothing is ever wasted.  I'm forever saying this to clients, and, well, just about everybody I meet, and it is true.  Your words are never wasted because if they need to be cut from one project, they might become useful in another.  Doesn't matter if you have a bad experience, because, at least you can write about it.  (As a matter of fact, I've coaxed myself into many an event I don't want to attend with that thought--at least I can write about it.)

But I've recently rediscovered a way to literally and physically not waste words by recycling manuscripts.  And I don't mean throwing them in the recycling bin.  Here's the deal:  I've been organizing my office for the last, oh, six months, and at the rate I'm going I'll be working on it for the next six months. Part of why this is taking so long is that I'm going through everything--old stories, old notes, everything. 

In my most recent pile, I found a sheaf of slender pieces of paper, rubberbanded together.  Curious (of course I have to look at everything), I pulled the rubber band off and found that what I had were sentences.  Some were hand-written, and some were cut from a printed manuscript page. 

I realized immediately what I had found--story starters.  Oh, okay, call them prompts, though for some reason I don't like that word.  Clearly, at some point in the past, I had meticulously written down sentences that captured my attention, and spent time cutting apart manuscripts.

So I decided to experiment with these sentences.  Earlier this week, I used one as a starter for a writing session, though I kept it specifically focused on the new novel.  And it was great.  To me, that is one of the best use of prompts--write from them with a specific focus, hopefully whatever it is you are working on. 

Digging further through this file, I found three pages of an old manuscript.  I mean, this was old--it had been printed on a dot-matrix printed.  Remember those?  I used to love the ritual of tearing the edges off the paper.  Anyway, the writing on the page was as old as the printer and, how shall I say this so as not to hurt my own feelings--it needed some work.  It is not a project I'm going to return to as I have no interest in it. 

But then I thought--aha!  I have a use for this old manuscript!  I shall cut it up, sentence by sentence, and use it for a story starter.  I put all the thin pieces of paper containing the sentences into a box with my old hand-written ones,and draw one when I'm ready to write.  Here's several to get you started, and note that some of these may be copied from books.  But it doesn't matter, take them and make them into your own wonderful work:

• Grandma sat in the armchair in the dim light, knitting.
• They tell me I should never let anyone know what happened.
• "It's not much further now," he called, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead.
• I know it's dangerous to pick up hitch-hikers, but I stopped anyway.
• Although there was nothing wrong with his leg, he walked with a cane anyway.

To me, writing to prompts story starters is an excellent way to warm up.  Musicians practice scales, athletes stretch, and we writers need to warm up, too if only to get the blood in our fingers going.  Writing freely  for 10 to 15 minutes can be an excellent way to get the brain moving in the correct direction as well.

Now the problem is that I have an excuse to keep all those old manuscripts.  Good thing I've thrown most of them out already.

How about you?  What's your favorite way to warm for writing?

Transparency, or a Book Review

Book Review:  Write Right Online

by Andy Hayes

Transparency is a big buzz word around the internet these days.Everyone is supposed to be transparent and tell their audience every single little thing about them.  I like this trend.  At least I like it in others.  But when it is time for me to be transparent, I don't like it so well.

Heavy sigh.  Oh, alright, I'll be transparent today.

I'm way overdue in reviewing a book I agreed to review.  I just went back and checked the original email I got from the author, and it was exactly a month ago.  When Andy Hayes first asked me to review his latest Ebook, I agreed, and gaily told him not to expect the review for a week or so.  Ha!  Here it is, a month later, and I've not done it.

Because I think that this trend toward transparency is linked to integrity, I will admit that my failure to review the book rankles.  It makes me feel bad every time I think about it, and that is an energy drain that I don't need. 

But here's the deal: the reason I haven't reviewed the book is that sometimes book reviewing is hard.  Here this nice, handsome, Scotsman asks me to review his book and what if it is bad and I have to be honest and say so?  Those thoughts alone contributed to a delay in reading the book.

So finally I read the book and another problem rears its wee head: the book is good, very good, but it is difficult to review because it is, well, simple.  And that is a compliment because it is meant to be simple.  Write Right Online is intended as a collection of tips and ideas that will help the small business owner write better and more easily online.

Basically, the book lays out how to "express yourself online," and this includes not only writing tips but some talk about various Internet platforms and some ways you can tweak what you've already written.  Most "chapters" are one to two pages long, easily digestible and full of good information.  The book is divided into four sections, and introduction, wrap-up, and then the two meaty sections in the middle: "Putting Your Virtual Pen to Work," and "Tech Nuts and Bolts." 

In the chapter called "The Perfect Piece of Content," Hayes lays out a simple formula that can be followed by anybody, anywhere, on the web: write a great headline, then pull together killer content, and end with a call to action.  Another chapter's headline is "Write for Somebody, not Everybody."  This is one of the things I tell students and clients over and over again, in a slightly different guise: the specific is universal.

I think this book has a lot to recommend it and if you're in the need for some beginner tips on writing for the internet, or you need a bit of a refresher, its for you.

In case you are interested in buying the book:

Click here to visit Travel Online Partners.

And, full disclosure, the above is an affiliate link.

Okay, phew, being transparent isn't that hard after all.

On Being a Beginner Again

Last night I painted.

A couple weeks ago I wrote a post about not making having time to paint.

And finally, last night, I got to it.

This morning, I realized one of the reasons, besides the pure fun of it, that painting is so good for me.  It is because I am approaching it with a beginner's mind.  That would be because I am a beginner.  There is something both terrifying and wonderful about doing something you don't have the vaguest clue how to do.  To engage in an activity as a beginner is to see the world anew.  And of course, many spiritual traditions, most notably Zen Buddhism, encourage approaching life with this mindset.

But I have been writing for so long it is nearly impossible for me to look at writing with fresh eyes.  I can look at each project with new eyes, and I can switch from fiction to non-fiction and back again to keep things lively.  But I write so much and so often that it is difficult to remember the terror of facing the blank page and not knowing what to do.

Because last night I faced a blank canvas and I didn't know what to do.

It was paralyzing at first.  And I turned to my usual comforts--words. I looked through the books on painting I'd gotten for Christmas, ignoring the images in favor of reading the text.  Not finding exact, step-by-step instructions for how to begin, which was what I was seeking, I moved on, to the pamphlet that came with the acrylics.  Um, not much of use there, either.

Finally there was nothing to do but just begin.  So I squirted some paint on the little round plastic palette and and started covering one of the canvases.  (You can see in the photo above that I started on very small canvases.) And it was wonderful.  Once I had the whole thing covered in blue, I experimented with adding dabs of red.  And then I decided that what I really wanted to paint was a flower.  And so I worked on that for the rest of the night.

And I was happy.  Because it was fun.  And it didn't matter what the end result looked like.  It didn't matter that I'm not an accomplished painter (you can see proof of that in the photo above).  What mattered was the process and the joy I felt in doing it.  What mattered was that even though I'm not good now, I can see that I'll only continue to improve.

So here's what I've gleaned from my first experience with painting.

1. Tools for the Journey--There are none.  You just have to jump in.  You just have to do it.  You just have to pick up the brush and dip it in the paint, or put your hands to the keyboard and begin writing.  That really is all that is important.

2.  Process trumps Product--I struggle with this.  Any professional writer does.  The trick is to create good work that will hold up in the marketplace while still allowing yourself to get lost in the flow.  But painting reminds me that ultimately it is all about the process.

3.   You Can Always Improve--And you will if you continue to practice painting or writing or any creative project.  The one thing I loved about my son playing video games as a boy was that it taught him he could improve his skills if he just kept at it.

4. It is Worth It--It's worth it to find the time, to carry the card table up from the basement, to get organized, to take the first flying leap onto the canvas.  Because painting is fun, and transporting, and absorbing, just like writing. 

5.  Start Small--Note the very small canvases above.  Take one little scene from your writing at a time, or focus on one sentence.  Then write another, and another...

So now I'm going to take these insights and apply them to writing.  I'm going to attempt to be a beginner again, every time I return to the page.  I think it is another path to writing abundance.

How about you?  Any experiences with being a beginner?

**And remember, if you struggle so much with getting words on the page that you need help, I offer writing coaching and mentoring.  Just email me--the address is at the top of the page.

It is Always the Story

Yesterday, I wrote about watching the Winter Olympics and how Bode Miller winning gold inspired thoughts about stepping up to the plate.  

Today the subject is story.

My daughter and I were watching the men's ski cross races on Sunday night.  This is a relatively new sport, and, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe it is the first time in the Olympics.  It doesn't have a lot of stars that we're yet familiar with and so NBC chose to focus on one of the Canadian men.  (I know, shocking--NBC actually featured an athlete who wasn't from the US!  It was because he grew up in Colorado but had a Canadian father.)

So, here's this new sport, which is mildly interesting, and a bunch of guys participating that nobody's ever heard of. I'm  watching with half an eye, catching up on emails and blog comments at the same time.  But then there's a slow moment in the action and NBC decides to run the pre-taped story about said Canadian, whose name is Chris Del Bosco.

And suddenly I'm paying attention.  Because this guy has a story.  From the time he was a wee boy, he showed a talent for skiing and racing.  But then, as a teen, he started drinking and doing drugs.  And suddenly he wasn't winning races anymore.  Pretty soon he wasn't even racing anymore.  This dark period ended with him so wasted one night that he fell into an ice-cold stream and if a passer-by hadn't found him he would have frozen to death.

He's bombed out of any ability to compete here in the states, but through a synchronicity, he heard that the Canadians were looking for guys to ski on the ski cross team.  And suddenly a new career opens up.  He's getting a second chance to do what he loves. 

And I'm rooting for him.  Suddenly, I'm completely and totally paying attention.  The computer is closed and set aside.  My eyes are glued to the TV.  Del Bosco easily qualifies for the finals.  I so desperately want him to win!  Alas, it is not to be.  Though it looks like he is coming from behind to win a medal, on one of the last bumps (jumps? not sure what they are called in this sport) he overestimates and ends up crashing.  

The point is this: I cared about Chris Del Bosco because NBC told me a story about him. Not only that, but the story they told had all the elements of a classic--amazing talent that, lots of conflict, the opportunity for a second chance.  I was right there with him because of it.

The thing I probably suggest the most when reading a client's manuscript is to take out narrative and put in more scene.  Scenes dramatize your writing and make it come alive.  A scene shows us something, instead of telling.  It presents a story. 

We respond to story because it is hard-wired into us.  From the beginning of human time, we've told stories to each other.  And still we do, whether on TV, a movie, or through reading a book.  The power of story is so powerful that it has become a cliche.

But sometimes cliches are good.  Because, ultimately, it always comes down to story.

What about you?  How do you use the power of story?  What have you gleaned from watching the Olympics? Or have you been ignoring them completely?

Stepping Up

Stop the presses for this news flash.

I've been watching TV.

Specifically, the Olympics.  I often write about what a time waster watching TV is and I truly don't watch much of it myself, except, for reasons inexplicable to me, American Idol.  But one thing I love is the Olympics, specifically, the winter Olympics.  So I've been finishing my work in time to sit in front of the TV every night.  (Okay, sometimes I take my computer with me to sit in front of the TV, but still.)

Last night, I was struck by two different athletes and what their efforts represented to me on a larger scale.  And, of course, as with all things, I saw an immediate relationship to writing.  Because, well, when you are a writer, everything relates to writing.  So, today, I'm going to write about my first observation.  The second will be covered in a post tomorrow. So here goes:

Stepping Up to the Plate

At the 2006 Torino Olympics, Bode Miller was an ass.  He stayed up all night partying, talked trash, didn't really seem to take the whole thing seriously.  He had a sense of entitlement, as if he were the anointed one.  Bode fell victim to hubris, otherwise known as, pride goeth before a fall.  Because he bombed out and didn't do nearly as well and predicted. Going in, they said he might win up to five golds.  He won none.

Flash forward four years and Bode is a changed man.  He's been training hard, speaks humbly in interviews.  He seems to get how amazing and cool it is that he's at the Olympics this time.  This is a man who, for whatever reasons, has been given a second chance and he knows it.   And this Olympics, he's a winner.  First he won bronze, then silver, and last night, a gold medal for the men's combined skiing.

I think he's an example of what happens when we put all our crap aside and step it up.  Instead of letting fear rule us, we meditate for a few minutes before our writing session, so that we can bring our full selves to the page.  We take the chance on a speaking engagement, even though we're afraid of talking in public, or we go back and edit our novel one more time because we know in our hearts that we really need to.

Stepping up to the plate is doing whatever it takes.  When I was at my first residency while studying for my MFA, we had an assignment to write a poem based on one of the pieces of art we'd seen on a visit to the museum.  I'd written a rough draft of a poem that was okay, but not quite there yet.  I mentioned my struggles to the program head, Sena Jeter Naslund, and she said to me, in her charming southern way, "Why, Charlotte, why don't you just go work on it some more, then?"

Oh.

So, while everyone else went off to lunch, I went to the computer lab and worked on it some more.  And it turned out to be one of the poems which was read in public as a successful example.  I'll never forget that the poetry mentor wrote on it, "This is a poem!"

Stepping up to the plate is that simple and that hard.

**Photo courtesy of antmoose, via Flickr and Everystockphoto.

The Writing Process

In posts too numerous to attempt to link to, I have made reference to the writing process.  Or, perhaps I should say, The Writing Process.  Or maybe even THE WRITING PROCESS.

Because, to me the writing process (I'll quit shouting it) is a given.  Sort of like breathing, it is just what you do when you write.  It is a process as natural to me as waking up in the morning and going to sleep at night.  The writing process is a cornerstone of my  Writing Abundance system.

But the thought occurs that some people may not know what I'm talking about.  That's the thing about stuff that is as natural as breathing--you take it for granted.  I call this The Wallpaper Effect.  This effect occurs when you want to remind yourself of something, so you post a note or photo or whatever somewhere you will see it every day, such as the refrigerator.  And at first you notice and remind yourself of whatever the note says.  But pretty soon you stop noticing it, because it is there, on the refrigerator and you see it every day.  It has become like wallpaper, something that doesn't even register, because it is such a part of your surroundings.

The writing process has become wallpaper in my life.  But it may not be wallpaper in yours.  So I'm going to describe it for you.  Here goes.

The Writing Process

1.Glump it all out on the page.  Give it all up, put it all down.  Everything.  Write fast and hot and furiously in a gloriously messy rough draft that you have no idea how you're ever going to fix because it is so wild and chaotic.  This is your first draft.  Or, what Anne Lamott calls, a Shitty First Draft.

2. Rewrite it.  Now the glory days of writing whatever comes into your fertile brain are over.  You've got a first draft in which you have gotten down on paper the story as you understand it.  But now you have to shape it and mount it dramatically.  You need to start figuring out how to best present the story to the reader, so that they will get it--and be entertained by it.   You may need to shape narrative into scene, find ways to show instead of tell, deepen characters, rearrange the order of things.  You'll figure it out as you go along.

3. Rewrite it again.  Seriously.  And you may have to rewrite it again and again and again.  Each successive draft will take less time, because you'll be getting closer and closer as you go.  Now you can start to really look at style--things like sentence structure and word choice.

4. Revise it.  I consider revising to be the line-editing detail work that I'm not that good at.  This step occurs only after you are certain that you've got the story down the way you want it, that it is all working.  The revision step is when you are looking at grammar, punctuation, and spelling.  There's no sense in doing this until after you're sure what you have on the page isn't going to change.

So there you have it--the writing process.  It is that simple, and that complicated.  And even though I have written it as four steps for the sake of simplicity, be aware that it will probably be more like five or six steps, depending on how many drafts you go through.  I've said it before and I'll say it again now--I took my novel through eight drafts.  And I learned something new in every single one.

Let me note that most writers I know follow this process.  Every once in awhile I run into one who labors over every word of the first draft and can't move forward until they are satisfied with what is on the page.  But that kind of writing seems labored and forced to me.  I do know it works for some people, and I respect that.  But what works for me is the writing process.

So how about you?  What are your experiences with the writing process?

***By the way, does anyone need a hotel room in Denver during AWP?  I'm not going to be able to go and have a reserved hotel room, which is often a hot commodity at AWP.  Or, even if you're just going to be in Denver April 7th-11th.  Email me if you want it.

True Confessions, or Coaching Myself

I'm struggling.

I'm having a hard time writing my next novel.

There, I've admitted it. 

I, the one who constantly harangues you to write every day, to keep the momentum going by checking into your project on a daily basis, I, that very same person, am having a hell of a time working on my novel every day.

Don't get me wrong--I am writing every day.  I get up every morning and write in my journal, I work on contracted projects, and I write a blog post every day.  Oh, and I write stuff on social media, though I'm not sure we can say that really counts. 

So I'm writing every day, and writing tons.  It is just that I'm not doing what I love to do, what I feel I've been set on this earth to do (well, partially, because coaching writers and blogging about writing is definitely part of my mission).  I'm ignoring my true love.  And we all know what that means.

My true love is dying.

And that makes it even harder, because if a project feels like it is dying, than who wants to spend time with it?  And so the vicious cycle gets established.

It is not that I don't have time for it.  At great effort, I have carved out a bit.  But during that time I am not writing.  Instead, I am re-reading the first chapter repeatedly, telling myself how very brilliant it is.  I make lists of things I should do for the novel (like, um, write it).  I jot notes about potential scenes.  Fill out character dossiers.  Convince myself I need to go sit on my office chair and take a nap meditate about the overall arc of the plot.

All this is great, but it is not writing.

Yesterday, after reading--yet again--the first chapter, I realized it is because I'm second-guessing myself.  I'm worrying about whether the work is good, whether than trusting the process.  Of course it isn't good, it is a first draft!  All it needs to be is enough to hang a story on.  And it is.

So I've decided what is in order are some words from the wise, ie., me.  It is time to coach myself with some tough love.  Here's what I've come up with for my marching orders:

1.  Remind Myself.  Of what?  That the last novel was once a first draft, too.  Yesterday I scrounged around and found the original scene list I had written for Emma Jean's Bad Behavior.  Shocking how different it was.  Oh, the seeds of the finished novel were all there, but the original scenes I had laid out were very, very different.  I found this comforting, because it reminded me that the process does, indeed, work.

2.  Use the Time.  What's been happening is that I get to my allotted novel-writing time and when something doesn't happen immediately, I feel guilty for wasting my time and make myself go spend it more gainfully.  But creativity takes time, and when working with the large span of the novel, this is especially true.  So I'm using the time I've set aside every day, even if it means staring off into space while thinking deep thoughts about the novel.

3.  Turn off the Internet.  Yeah, right.  I hear this works well, but I wouldn't know, because it is not something I am constitutionally capable of achieving. 

4.  Short assignments.  The novelist Darnell Arnoult talks about this.  She advocates giving yourself short assignments about your characters or points in the plot.  Stuff you can write in 15 minutes, but which will help you gain understanding of the project.  I know this works because one of my short assignments made it into that brilliant first chapter which I have read and admired so many times.

So those are what I'm working with.  Anybody want to take a turn coaching the coach and tell me what works for you?

Talking Your Story To Death

Have you ever talked about a story so much that you then could never write it?

I have. 

When I was a newer writer, this happened to me several times.  Sometimes it was in one-on-one conversation, but mostly it happened in a critique group I attended.  I loved that critique group, adored the people in it and enjoyed our weekly meetings.  But, looking back, I think we just talked too damn much.  I was working on a novel then and I never was able to pull it together, though I got about three-quarters of the way through.

Talking about it took all the energy from it.

Of course, I now belong to a different critique group which is no less amazing.  And we talk and talk and talk, too.  So what's the difference?  Why was I able to finish my novel, Emma Jean's Bad Behavior, and feel satisfied with it, whereas before I couldn't? 

Perhaps it has to do with confidence.  In this group, when people talk about something that isn't working, I'm able to take that criticism and figure out my own solution to it.  Before, I'd always do exactly what the others' said, even when I knew it wasn't right, because I lacked confidence.  As I ponder this, it also has to do with confidence in the collective wisdom of the group, as well as myself.

Still, I've learned not to talk too much about my work.  When people ask me what the novel is about, I give them a vague answer.  Now that is it finished, I don't have to be quite so protective.  In truth, I need to be less protective and figure out a decent elevator pitch, so I don't find myself opening and closing my mouth and saying, "Um, well, it's about this woman....and she goes to LA...and..." By that time my questioner is so bored she is walking away from me.

But when a work is in progress, I find it beneficial to me not to talk about it too much.  I've finally learned just to tell people that.  When they ask me what my novel that I'm working on is about, I answer, "I've learned not to talk too much about my work while it is in progress, because it sucks the life out of it."

People generally respect this, perhaps because it sounds very writerly and somewhat mysterious.  Well, the creative process is mysterious, isn't it?  And we learn what works for each of us only by engaging in it.

I'm a bit in awe of all the writers on Twitter who happily gab away about their works in progress.  They even tweet lines from their writing and others comment.  Laurell K. Hamilton, best-selling author of the Anita Blake series, tweets constantly about her characters and what they are doing.  Part of me wishes I could do this because it seems so natural to all of them.  But I've learned that I can't.

So, do tell.  What works for you?  Do you talk about your writing in progress?  Have you ever talked a book to death?

Using Intution In Your Writing

I'm reading a book that I'm going to review here as part of a blog tour for the author.  The book is called Second Sight, by Judith Orloff, and it is a memoir/self-help book.  I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here, because the review isn't slated until March 1st.  I'll be writing much more about it then, but I wanted to discuss one aspect of the book today.

That aspect is intuition.

Judith Orloff, you see, is an intuitive psychiatrist.  She's no slouch, either.  She's been in private practice forever and is faculty at UCLA.  She's one of the towering figures in the area of uniting intuition and traditional medicine.  I wanted to read the book because I was interested in learning new ways to utilize intuition in my writing.

How much do you use intuition in your writing?

If you'd asked me that last week, I would have answered, a ton.  Because I believe strongly that establishing a regular practice of connection--one form of intuition--is the bedrock of all writing and creativity.  But after reading and copying one of Orloff's techniques yesterday, I think I've been missing out.

Orloff talks about remote viewing, which is essentially tuning into someone or something far away.  I could go on and on about some of the fascinating stories she tells, but I will save that for the actual review. (Brief aside: my Welsh friend Derek and I experimented with remote viewing just for the fun of it, sending photos back and forth and trying to hone in on what they contained.  The results were sometimes astoundingly accurate.)  She used remote viewing to try to tune into her patients and so forth.

I decided to play around with the process  she used, and after wasting spending a few minutes attempting to tune into friends near and far, I applied the process to the characters I'm working with in a new novel project.

Note how I call it a new novel project?  I'm not convinced it is going to be a novel yet, so I'm referring to it by a euphemism.  "Novel project" sounds a bit less certain than novel.  Anyway, I don't know much about my characters yet.  And I need to.  So I did a bit of remote viewing on them.  (I'm actually not sure if you can remote view characters who don't actually exist, but you get the point.)

Wow.  The results were amazing.  A stream of new information appeared, all of it relevant and useful.  I tried it again this morning, and yet more came through.  So I thought I'd share the process with you.  And let me be clear that this is my take on what Orloff described, as I've not yet gotten to the part where she explains how to do it.

1.  Get comfy, have pen and paper handy, and close your eyes.

2.  Take a few deep centering breaths to quiet your mind.

3.  Repeat the name of the character to yourself, or ask a question pertaining to your writing.

4.  Pay close attention to what comes up.  It might be visual images or words.

5.  Be patient, it can sometimes take awhile.  Sitting with the question or name is key.

6.  Open your eyes and make notes about what you got.

That's it, that's all you have to do.  It is not woo-woo in the least, just a simple process to utilize intuition to access information about your writing.  So give it a try and let me know what happens.

How else do you use intuition in your writing?  I'd love to hear about it.

When to Go Back, When to Let Go?

Today, I am answering another Burning Question.  Jessica asked about finding the balance between going back to old work or letting it go.  She had read an author state that old work is the work of a younger you and you should move on from it.  On the other hand, she'd also read interviews with many an author who spoke of working on a novel for years, setting it aside and then returning to it.  So which approach is best?

Funny you should ask that, Jessica, as I've been spending spare moments working on organizing my office.  A huge part of that chore has been to go through all my old work.  I had stacks and folders and binders full of old stories, my MFA novel, and some half-completed projects.  I also had even higher stacks of notes pertaining to these stories.

I put this off for weeks.  I didn't want to face it, because I knew that it was time to let go of a lot of this stuff.  (Note the photo of some of it piled on my office floor yesterday.)  But finally, I screwed up my courage and did it.  I was able to be ruthless, dumping most of the notes into the recycling bin. This was, after all the point.  I'd been feeling as if all this old stuff was pinning me down, that the collective weight of the unfinished work was preventing new ideas from coming through.  So I chucked much of it.

However--and this is a big however--I carefully put a copy of every old story, and the novel, into binders. I wanted to honor the work that I've done, the writer that I've been.  As I did this, I re-read some of the stories.  Most of them felt to me very much like the work of a younger writer and parts of them made me cringe.  But some of them made me want to read more.  The glimmer of interest was still there.  If I were to write the story today, I'd write it much differently, perhaps even choose different characters, but the kernel that led me to the page was still compelling to me.  I re-read bits and pieces of that old novel and subsequently entertained myself in my journal this morning by writing about how I would re-imagine this book if I ever decided to go back to it.

So my answer to the question of when to let go and when to go back is, it depends. I think that this is gong to be a very personal decision, and while some people are perfectly comfortable going back to a project, others might not be.  But here are some guidelines to help you in that decision:

When you look back over an old story or project,

• Is there a spark? 
• Does your heart leap?
• Does your brain immediately engage?
• Are you hooked into the narrative in any way?

If the answer to any one of these questions is yes, you might want to spend a little time exploring the old story and see where it leads.  Just go back to it and see what happens, without expectation.  Fool around a bit and see how you feel.  If it doesn't go anywhere, fine, nothing is lost.  (That's the great thing about writing--nothing is ever lost.  Ever.)

But if you answered no to these questions, then the answer is clear.  There's no oomph left in the project for you.  File it away and forget about it.  Let the space it took up in your brain be filled with new stories, books and ideas.

So that is my take on when to let go and when to go back.  What do you guys think?  Anyone have any good or bad experiences with going back to an old project?

Say Hello To Your Critic

Since I seem to have been writing a lot lately about fear, and how to keep it at bay while you write, I thought it might be time for a little practical exercise.  This is one I present in my Writing Abundance workshop.  I did it for the first time years ago and have found the results of it--a way to deal with my critic--incredibly useful.

One of the problems that I often hear about is people being sidelined by perfectionism.  They get paralyzed because they are afraid they won’t do something right.  What this problem really is about is listening to your own inner critic, who constantly tells you that you are not good enough.  It is one thing to tell your critic to shut up, but it doesn’t really work.  Instead—meet your critic head on and disarm him.  Here’s how, by giving him and image and a name.  I met mine years ago.  His name is Patrick and he looks like a Will Ferrell in Elf, only small and not nearly so goofy and friendly.  Instead, Patrick is a bit of a prig.   Let’s go ahead and have you meet your critics and then I’ll tell you a trick to deal with her or him.

Meet Your Critic

1. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths
2. Think about how you feel when you are being critical of your writing. 
3.  See if any images come up—color, energy, sound, smell?
4. Hold with whatever you are getting and let it come into form.  It might be an animal, a human-type creature, or something totally abstract
5. Now open your eyes and write.  More details will emerge as you do.   Write a description of what you saw and then see if you can give it a name.  Even a purple circle with the name Stan works.

Here’s the deal: after you have identified your critic, you can talk to him.  I made a pact with Patrick years ago: he lies quiet while I write rough drafts, write in my journal, and do free writing.  In return, as soon as I begin editing and rewriting, Patrick is up and at ‘em, ready to help me out.  Because that is where Patrick excels—at being critical.  Sometimes I forget about Patrick and he gets cranky, very cranky.  But then he jumps up and down to get my attention, generally when I am first starting on a project.  Then I remind him of our deal.  And then he's content to go hang out wherever it is he hangs out until I call him forth. 

So give it a try.  And report back if you feel so inclined.  I'd love to hear what shape your own critic takes.

Staying True

How do you stay true to the pure heart of what you are writing?

The other day, in my Burning Questions post, I invited people to leave their burning questions.* Yesterday's post came from one question.  Today I'm going to answer another one, this one from Patty, who has a thoughtful blog you should check out.

She asked how she could get to the core motivation for her writing, casting aside all the things we do like comparing ourselves to others or torture ourselves with thoughts of the other things we could be doing.  And, I have an answer for that, though I will admit that it is one of the toughest things we writers have to deal with.  The pressure to compare ourselves to others or worry that perhaps we are wasting time are two of the most toxic distractions imaginable.

But I like to remember to separate the process from the product and remind myself that during the initial writing, my job is to focus on the process.  When writing, it is up to me to concentrate on the writing only, and let all the rest of that crap fall away.  There will come a time, all too soon, when worldly concerns will infringe upon you.  Then you will be taking your project to market, and that is when you can start thinking about how to position it in regards to the work of others, and so on.

But how, specifically, to maintain this focus on the pure, sweet heart of your project?  Here are some ideas:

Give The Whining Free Rein.  But only for a limited, pre-agreed upon amount of time, like 10 minutes.  But for that 10 minutes, let 'er rip.  Stomp around the house, sit and wring your hands, moan, sigh heavily, whatever your favorite is.  Worry obsessively about whether the book you're writing is good enough, or ponder all the things you have to do on your to-do list.  Then, when your allotted time is up, stop.  And get to your writing.

Agree to One Hour.  For this one hour, all you are going to do is write.  You are going to focus on your writing.  You are not going to worry about how to market the book you are writing, or wonder if you'll ever be good enough to land an agent.  If your thoughts stray to these topics, you are going to imagine these thoughts are on clouds, gently floating away from you.  And you are going to direct your attention back to your writing project once again.  In this way, you will stay true to your core motivation for one hour.  And then you can do it again for another hour.

Make a Deal With Your Critic.  Tell him or her that if she will just take a nap while you are focusing on your writing for an hour, there will soon come a time when you will need her help.  (That time will be when you start editing and rewriting.)  Note: your critic is not only the inner voice that tells you you're not good enough, it is also the voice that whispers: isn't it time to quit writing and see what they are talking about on Twitter?  Until you are done with your hour, the answer is no.

Practice these three techniques to stay true to yourself and your writing.  And let me know how they work out for you.  Or perhaps you have some favorites of your own?

*Note to Don: Alas, I don't have the answer to your Burning Question, much as I wish I did.  I have no idea how they get the caramel into the Caramel Bars.  But if you find out, let me know.

Does it Really Take Talent?

Consider two writers:

Writer A, is unbelievably talented.  She writes prose so gorgeous and true and deeply felt it makes your hear break.  Not only that, she has that ineffable trait called a voice.  You'd recognize her writing anywhere and drop everything to read it.  In short, Writer A has talent.  Scads of it.  But Writer A also has a little problem.  She doesn't write much.  Once every month or so, if the spirit moves her, she picks up her pen and scrawls another page of beautiful prose.  And then she lets other things get in the way.  You know.  Important things like watching TV, and cleaning the sink, and thinking profound thoughts about how wonderful life is going to be once she has finished that novel.

Writer B, is just an old workhorse.  Every word he puts on the page he has earned.  This writer doesn't have a lot of natural talent.  His writing is pedestrian at best.  But our Writer B works hard.  He writes every day and reads and reads and reads.  Whenever he has a spare moment, he's working on improving his writing.  He immerses himself in words, whether writing or reading.  He's obsessed.  Sometimes he misses dinner, and often he doesn't turn his TV on for weeks on end.

So who do you think is going to be the most successful writer?

I'm betting on Writer B.  Why? Because Writer B is doing the work, sitting at his desk, writing.  You learn writing by writing.  You learn fluency and ease and flow by writing every day, which is why I'm always harping on it.  You figure out how the plot of your novel is going to work by actually working on the novel, or you learn more about your characters by writing more about them.

Talent will get you started, but it is the actual work that will allow you to succeed. 

There's an old debate in the writing world: can writing be taught?  Do you have to have talent to succeed?  I think that writing can be taught, and the teaching occurs in every word that you put on the page.  Malcolm Gladwell, in his book, Outliers, says that mastery comes after you have spent 10,000 hours on something.  Yep.  It will probably take you 10,000 hours of writing to master the craft, though many people believe that writing takes a lifetime to master--which is why it never gets boring.  This 10,000 hour rule is why the brief-residency MFA programs or certificate writing programs are so great--because writers should be writing, not sitting in class talking about writing, fun as that is.  Writers learn to write by writing, natural talent or no.

And those with natural talent who write all the time will see their talent come to fruition.  But those with natural talent who don't write will never succeed.  Persistence will always prevail.

The moral of the story? Just keep writing.  It is all you need to do.

**This post came about as a result of a question asked in the comment sections on my post, Burning Questions.  Thanks, Walter, and I hope this helps.  Meanwhile, if any of you have any burning questions, hope on over to that post and ask away. 

And feel free to weigh in here on the topic of talent versus persistence.

Three Rules

I'm reading Crush It, by Gary Vaynerchuk.  In case you haven't heard of him, he's the marketing genius who built his father's liquor business from four million in sales to fifty million in sales in just eight years.  How did he do it?  Mainly through video blogging, with his show, Wine Library TV, and the use of social media.

His book is a quick read, and essential if you've not yet dabbled much in social media.  If you have, you'll probably get more in the way of inspiration than new information.  But hey, I'm all for inspiration!  And one of the things that Gary wrote about inspired this post, so there you have it.  Specifically, in chapter one, he writes about the three rules by which he lives.  His are: love your family, work super hard, live your passion.

I've been thinking about this three rule thing a lot lately. I'm really attracted to the concept of living life by a set of rules, which is odd, because in general I'm a rebellious type.  Years ago, in a critique group (which I seem to be thinking a lot about lately, since I wrote about it here, too) we talked quite a bit about characters with moral codes.  You know the kind--the detective who may, to outside appearances, seem to be completely insubordinate and anarchic, but when you dig deeper you learn he's got good motivation and a strong compass to guide him.  A current example of this on TV would be, of course, Dexter, who is a serial killer who kills serial killers.  

So, I decided to assign myself the task of coming up with three rules by which I live.  I approached this by thinking about what my absolute, bottom-line, bedrock beliefs are, and by how they get played out in my day to day life.  Oh, and by the way, you'll see that these are, because of my very nature, writing related, but as far as I'm concerned writing bleeds into life and life bleeds back into writing, so the two are inseparable.

Ready?  Here goes:

Three Rules for Living

1.  Always Connect.  In my Writing Abundance workshops, I always, always, always begin by talking about the practice of connecting.  To me, this means connecting with something bigger than you, most likely the divine, in however you view it.  Take time to meditate or pray, in whatever form this takes for you, every day.   Beyond this absolutely crucial practice, you can view this rule in other ways, too, as in connect with friends and family to get their support for your writing, connect with others via social media, connect with writers through critique groups or other networking opportunities.  Connecting is vital.

2. Give it All Up, Get it All Back.  This also translates to, put it all on the page, always.  I just wrote a whole blog post about the practice of letting go.  It is a worthy thing to aspire to in life, and it will serve you well in writing, too.  Put everything you have on the page every time you sit down to write.  Fling your whole self on the keyboard or paper.  Don't hold back, don't back off.  You can--and will--edit later. Fling yourself at life, putting everything out there, without worrying about what will happen.  Remember, we only think we know what is going to happen tomorrow.  I've learned the hard way that plans can change in an instant.  So don't waste time trying to control what you can't (and this includes reactions from agents, editors and readers).

3.  Write or Create Every Day.  I am a firm believer that writing every day is the best way to establish a prolific and prosperous writing career.  It is incredibly difficult to maintain momentum on a project when you are only giving it sporadic attention.  Yes, there is something to be said for taking breaks, and I'm a fan of downtime (I love me American Idol) and self-care, which I deem to be essential.  But there are 24 hours in a day, in case  you hadn't heard.  Couldn't you spend just 15 minutes of them with pen and paper?

So there you have them, my three rules.  Ask me about them same time next year and I might well have a new set.  But these are mine for now.  What are yours?  Do you like the idea of having rules to live by?

**Photo by DrewMeyers, used under Creative Commons 2.5 license.

Burning Questions, What Are Yours?

Years ago, in a critique group I was a part of, we used to talk about Burning Questions.

It began when I was working on a novel and got stuck halfway through.   I didn't know where I was going and couldn't see my way to the end, so I sat down and wrote a series of questions that I thought readers would be asking by that point in the novel.  Hence, Burning Questions.

The novel never did get finished.  It was no doubt doomed from the start because I plunged into it without a clear idea of where I wanted to go, or what, precisely, I wanted to say.  There's a big debate among novel writers as to whether one should outline or not outline.  People on each side of this debate hold their opinions as strongly as Birthers and Bush Bashers.  Wait, we no longer have Bush Bashers, do we.  Okay, call them liberals then.  You know what I mean.

I am a firm believer in doing whatever works.  If writing outlines works for you, then do it and don't worry about what those other folks say.  But if you like to be all loosey-goosey and let the writing and characters take you wherever they want, go for it. 

For me, what works in writing novels (and short fiction, come to think of it) is some kind of loose outline.  And when I say loose, I mean loose.  It is really more like a vague list that gives me at least some idea of what's ahead.  Along the way, things change, characters come alive, new ones walk on, which is all part of the fun.  And I revise my list when it is apparent that things aren't going to go the way I think they are.  But then I write a new list.  This keeps me on track. 

Then there are blog posts, which have always been more free-flowing for me.  Usually, I'm pretty good at keeping myself on track, but sometimes I start off in one place and end up in another, quite unexpectedly.  This post is an example--I started off wanting to ask what your burning questions are, and then got sidetracked by talking about where the term came from....and that led into a discussion of outlining vs. not.

Ah well, it is Monday and I slept late.

But here's the original Burning Question part.  I am wondering what yours are.  Truly and all.  Do you have questions, concerns, or ideas about writing?  About the writing life?  About a writing career?  Or maybe you have some questions about creativity?  Motivation? Inspiration?  Getting your butt to the computer regularly?

Whatever your questions are, I want to know them.  I'll do my best to answer them in posts, or even an email if that seems more appropriate.

So bring 'em on, lay them on me...anything, anything at all.    Comment away!

Photo by xurble, found on Everystockphoto, my fave, and used under Creative Commons 2.5 license.

Lower Your Expectations

I have been a walker for years. 

For the past twenty years, maybe more, I've walked three times a week with my friend Sharon.  We met when our kids, then wee, were in a cooking class together, started walking, and kept up the habit ever since.  We were a familiar sight on our route around the Rose City Park golf course in northeast Portland. 

Until last year.

2009 was rough on me in many ways--my mother died, my daughter's husband got deployed to Iraq, my beloved pug died in my arms.  But it was also a year in which I saw the breakdown of lifelong habits, walking among them. 

Sharon injured her Achilles tendon, later snapping it, which resulted in painful surgery.  She and I quit walking together in July, and haven't walked since.  But I myself had a knee injury that I needed to nurse and nourish all year long.  It prevented me from walking much the first few months of the year, and after that the pain came and went sporadically.

The worst of it, though, is that I've gotten out of the habit of walking.  I used to know, innately, that if I didn't walk I'd feel bad.  That if I walked, I'd feel good.  A no-brainer.  Even on the days I didn't walk with Sharon, I generally got myself out the door, either for a walk or to the gym.  But, suddenly, last year, that all changed.

After a year of acupuncture, with the best acupuncturist in Portland, my knee is in quite good shape, thank you very much.  But my walking habit has been awful.  I've been lucky if I could drag myself out the door even 2 times a week.    I hate being so slothful.  My body hates it.  My brain hates it. 

Something had to be done.

And finally, I realized, duh--follow the same advice I give my students.  You know, that idea I beat into everybody's head repeatedly, until they are so sick of it they want to scream?  This advice: write every day, even if it is for only 15 minutes.

Translated to walking, this means, walk every day, even if it is for only 15 minutes.

Now, I'm a woman who is used to walking several miles every day, so 15 minutes is, um, not much.  But what I find happens is that once I get out the door it feels so good that I often keep going.  And even if I don't, at least 15 minutes is better than nothing.  And the consistency of it is helping me to rebuild this habit I've lost.

So, by lowering my expectations I've managed to start walking daily again.

As is so often the case, writing bleeds into life, and life, writing.  What works in one works in the other, maybe because, at least for me, I cannot seem to separate writing from life or life from writing.  So, if you've hit a rough patch with your writing, try lowering your expectations.  In writing, this can be seen two ways:

Time--As detailed above, lower your expectations for how much time you need to get writing done.  You don't have to have hours of uninteruppted time in which to work.  Here's a little-known fact--sometimes even full-time writers like me don't have hours upon hours to lavish on our work.  You can get a lot done in short bursts.  And even if you only take a few notes, you're keeping the work on the front burner of your brain.

Content--Lower your expectations for what you are writing, also.  Perfectionism has killed many a writing project.  Put it all on the page, even if it is total crap.  The first time through, it will be.  So just expect that.  Better yet, require that.  Tell yourself you have to write a bad page.  And then another.  And another.  Pretty soon you have a bad draft that might not be quite as bad as you think.  And even if it is, that's what God invented the concept of rewriting for.  So have at it.

Lower your expectations and raise your writing output.  Now excuse me, but I have to go walk before I head off for a Superbowl party.

Give It All Up, Get It All Back

Yesterday I had jury duty.

I resisted, mightily.

Perhaps it is because I'm called to serve on jury duty more than anybody else on this planet.  This was my third time, and I've gotten excused from service several times before, when my children were little.  I know people who have never gotten a summons, ever. So I was a bit taken aback when I was called yet again.

I told myself that I was too busy.  I had a trip to Nashville planned.  I'm self-employed and can't afford to take a day off.  Yada, yada, yada.  I called the number on the summons and was told I could reschedule, so I did.  Then called again and rescheduled once more.

Finally, the day came.  I had to be in the jury room by 8 AM and if there's one thing I hate, it is having my morning routine of writing and introspection interrupted.  But off I went to the courthouse,clutching  my bag full of manuscripts to read and work to catch up on.

The county really makes jury duty as painless as possible.  You only have to serve for one day, or one trial, whichever is longest.  And there's a large room full of chairs to hang out in, with big-screen TVs, vending machines, books, newspapers, and magazines galore.  I always head straight to the back, where there are tables and chairs.  I found me a good spot and staked my claim to it.

It is tradition for one of the judges to come down and talk to the jurors, and she did, reminding us that the founding fathers of this country thought so highly of the right to a jury trial that they died for it.  This made me feel highly virtuous for a few moments.  Then she talked about how for women, jury duty is the only compulsory service we must give to our country.  By then I was preening, so proud was I.  But when she finished her talk and pressed the button for the cheesy video, I was deflated once again.  I gave up my precious writing time to watch a bunch of yahoos talk about how great it is to be on jury duty?

Once the video was finished, we were left to our own devices until such time as a jury pool would be convened.   I looked around at all the people who had brought their laptops and wondered why on earth I hadn't brought mine.  Even when I remembered that I had made a conscious decision to use this day to get reading done and stay away from my computer, I pouted.  I wanted my computer, wanted to write a blog post, work on my novel, tweet away the day (which I did from my Iphone anyway, but never mind).

I pulled out the manuscripts I had to read, but soon was interrupted by a loud burp.  A plump gray-haired woman in a polka-dot blouse was drinking Coke and apparently it made her gaseous.   It also didn't do much to keep her awake, because soon she was curled at one end of the couch beside me, feet propped on a chair from my table, snoring loudly.  Which was a festive counterpart to the counter-culture type (orange shirt, hair in a pony-tail) who sat at the other end of the couch, head thrown back, mouth open, snoring even louder than the woman.

I muttered under my breath and pondered dark thoughts, like I wouldn't want either of them to serve on my trial, as I tried to read.  Then I looked around at all the people with their computers and started feeling bad about that again.  I needed my computer desperately.  What was I thinking, leaving it at home?  I could be getting so much done.

I started obsessing about what would happen if I got on a trial.  I thought about my Friday, the plans I had for finishing projects, the appointment I had.  I started figuring out options for making sure I wasn't chosen for a trial.  My daughter told me to tell them I loved guns.  A friend on Twitter told me to tell the judge I had diarrhea.  Another friend told me just to say I'm a writer, that that gets them every time--attorneys don't want free thinkers.  So I pondered all this and then my brain looped back to how horrible, how utterly awful it would be if I had to serve on a trial and take another one of my precious days. Because, you know, I am important.  I am a writer with things to do, brilliant words to commit to the page.

And then, something happened.  Either I got sick of listening to this endless drivel in my brain, or my brain got tired of providing it to me.  I sat back and realized that no matter what, it would all be okay.  If I got called for a trial, I'd work late, or work on the weekends to get things done.  I'd rearrange my appointment.  All would be well.  This was only a very short time out of my life and it was just fine.

Ah, the sweet release of letting go.  I went back to my reading and finished two manuscripts in rapid time--for such is the power of focus.  I had a thought about a new novel I'm fooling around with and wrote three pages on the legal pad I'd brought.  I was so wrapped up in my work that it was a surprise when I looked up from it to see the gray-haired burping lady gazing at me.

"Have they called anybody yet?"

"No, they haven't," I answered.  And I realized that it was nearly 10:30, and every other time I'd been on jury duty, several groups of potential jurors had been called by then. 

A few minutes later, the jury clerk addressed us from the podium at the head of the room.  All eight trials slated for that day had been resolved in one way or another, she said.  They wouldn't be needing any jurors that day.  We were free to go.

The stunned silence that ensued was quickly followed by a rush to the door, as if everyone was thinking the same thing--let's get out of here before they change their minds.

And so I was home by noon, and I had time to go grocery shopping, get some writing done, write a blog post, take a walk.  And as I walked and thought about my day, the thing that stood out in my mind was the moment of letting go.  The minute I quit resisting and accepted the situation as it was, I got everything I wanted--the chance to focus on my work, the opportunity to leave early and go home. 

Give it all up, get it all back.  I first heard that in a book written by Alan Cohen, and I often quote it in my Writing Abundance workshops.  And yet, every time I am shown the power of letting go, I marvel anew at what an amazing tool it is.

The same rules hold true in writing: put it all on the page every time you go to it.  Don't hold back.  Give it all up. 

I promise, you'll get it all back, and then some. 

Photo by navets, found on everystockphoto, used under Creative Commons 2.5 license.

Make the Words Flow

I noticed something this morning when I was in the middle of writing an email.

The words were flowing as smooth as a glass of fine wine. 

I started paying more attention.  And realized that I was allowing myself to go a bit deeper emotionally in my response.  So I stopped and thought for a bit, and realized why this was. 

Because I've been jingling every morning again.

Now, I'm an inveterate journaler.  I've written about journaling over and over again, so much so that you are no doubt sick of it.  Recently, I was reading Katrina Kenison's memoir, The Gift of an Ordinary Day, and in one scene she is delighted to find that over the last 18 years or so, she has filled 10 to 12 journals.  Um, I'm filled hundreds.  I have tubs of them in the downstairs closet, and more bursting out of cardboard boxes in my office.  So I've got some journaling cred.

But every once in awhile I take a break from it.  I decide that I should get right to my novel writing first thing in the morning, since it is the most important thing in my life and all the experts say to do that first.  So I shun my journal and go do my other work. 

And then something calls me back.

I pick up my journal again and before you know it, I'm writing like crazy every morning, and then sometimes several times a day.  And I have to admit, as I realized while writing the email, my work is better off for it.  Here, I've decided, is why:

• The words flow more easily
• The process of going deeper comes naturally, without effort
• I'm more connected with my emotions
• I notice more
• Writing breeds more writing.

Take special note of that last item.  If I take time to write in my journal, those words breed more words. Has anybody else ever noticed that?  The more I write, the more I'm capable of writing.  It is almost magical.

One of the reasons this may be is that the act of writing in my journal shakes loose the muse and often what I write about is how I want to do a certain scene in my novel.  Nearly every day, a blog post comes through.  I get ideas for all kinds of things.

So.  Writing in your journal doesn't have to take up your whole day, and it doesn't have to be first thing in the morning.  Pull out your moleskine at lunchtime and write for 10 minutes, or have a mini-writing session during your afternoon coffee break.  You'll be amazed at what happens.

On Not Having Time to Paint

For Christmas, I asked for and got paints.  I got acrylic paints, canvases, a cool wooden box to put the paints in, paintbrushes, one of those round plastic palettes, a couple books on painting.  Just looking at all these art supplies makes me tingle with anticipation.

I've been feeling the urge to paint for awhile now, and so getting all this for Christmas made me really happy.  After the rush of the holiday was over, the tree down, the decorations out of the way, I took over an extra table in the guest room for my art.  I arranged all my paints, found an old mug to stick the paintbrushes in, set the books out for easy reference.  The art supplies look good there, all ready to use.

And so far all they are doing is looking good.

Because I haven't touched them.

Not once.

My daughter actually made a semi-snide reference to the fact that I wanted the art supplies so bad and hadn't yet used them. 

"I was gone in Nashville for a week and a half," I pointed out to her.

She backed down quickly and I felt pleased with myself for being right, and having such a good excuse for not having spent any time with my paints.  But later, when I was opening the shades in the guest room so Lieutenant, one of my new cats, could sit in the window, and look out my eye fell on the paints.  And I realized that being out of town was just an excuse.

• I have other excuses for not painting, too.  They include:
• I have to get my messy office organized first
• I have to work
• I have to watch American Idol
• I have to go see a movie with my friend Paula
• I have to go out to dinner
• I have to go to Eugene

Good excuses, all.  But the fact remains that they are just excuses, and there is one real reason why I've not yet gotten out the paints.

• It is because I am scared.  And because I am scared, here are some of the things I tell myself:
• I'm not a painter
• I don't know how to paint
• I won't be good enough
• It won't be right
• I won't be perfect
• I don't know what to do first
• Someone might see me doing it and expect me to be good

Dumb, stupid excuses all.  And because I am a person who tends to think that everything that happens in my life has meaning, I am not only looking deeply at my resistance to painting, but also likening it to writing.  It gives me renewed empathy for the writers that I coach, for those of you who desire so strongly to put words on the page, for everyone who hesitates before committing pen to paper. 

Because my experience with not paint makes me empathize with everyone who is not writing.  So let's make a deal, shall we?  I'll paint if you write.  Okay?  Easy.  We can do it.  I know we can. 

***Besides writing, my favorite thing to do is coach creatives to become prolific and prosperous writers.  I'm working on getting my coaching page up, but in the meantime, if you're interested in hiring me, just email me.  You'll find the address at the top left of this page.

Taking a Break

Last weekend, I left home for a night to head south to Eugene, home of my alma mater, the University of Oregon (Go, Ducks!).

This may shock you--it shocked me--but I didn't even turn on my computer the entire time I was gone.   And I had a blast.   We ate at Rennie's and the Glenwood, two old favorites, stayed at the New Oregon motel, shopped at the U of O bookstore and the wonderful local yarn shop, walked along both sides of the Willamette river, and went to a surprise birthday party at fabulous house.  All in 24 hours.

I came home refreshed and with a slightly different outlook on life, which is what getting away will do for you.  Yet I don't do this often enough.  Yes, I travel a lot, mostly to Nashville and LA, but that is always at least partially for work.  Heading out for a night or two nights just for fun is an entirely different animal, and one I like. 

So, this may be as shocking as not turning on my computer for 24 hours, but now I'm going to advocate the benefits of taking a break from your writing.  And by taking a break, I mean taking a break break, like a mini get-away, or an afternoon off to wander by the lake.  Maybe you could think of it as an extended Artist's Date, the activity Julia Cameron urges everyone to partake in. 

Whether you decide to go for a big break or a small break, some time off can have a salutary effect on your brain, and since writing comes from the brain, by extension a break can have a great impact on your work.  So, herewith, my list of Reasons Why You Should Take a Break:

Because it clears your mind.  And, I don't know about you, but mine usually needs clearing, bad.  I get into this one-with-the-computer mentality wherein I sit and work for hours.  As part of my new program to take breaks more often, I'm also going to take mini-breaks, and get up from my desk every half hour.

Because it opens new vistas.  Just seeing different stuff is good for the brain.  And it's great for writing, because the writing muscle strengthens with new input.

Because it reminds you of what is important.  Like spending time with family and friends and gazing at the river.  Having a beer with lunch and finding fountain pens--a whole amazing, lovely set of them--at the bookstore.   Looking for nutrias in the Millrace and hanging out in the motel room just because it is fun to be there.

Because it refills the well.  Come back to writing after taking a break and suddenly the words fly across the page.  Why?  Because you've refilled the well, which easily gets depleted if all you do is pull from it.  Once in a while, you need to put stuff back in.

Because sometimes we just need to be, not always do.  Enough said.

Because it energizes you and makes you eager to get back to your life.  The best thing about leaving is coming home, right?  And even better to come home full of ideas and energy.  And with fountain pens.

What are your favorite ways to take breaks from writing?

***Photo by d70focus, courtesy of Flickr, via Everystockphoto, my go-to place for pix.