Category Archives: Writing

Do The Work

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I’ve just written a list of things I need to get done. Things hanging over my head like a piano dangling from a flimsy cord and I’m standing on a big, red X.

Hate that feeling. Kinda.

Instead of doing the things that need to get done, I do the dishes. The laundry. Dust. Scrub the baseboards. Write to my second cousin twice removed whom I haven’t spoken to since I was eight.

Why?

Fear. Resistance.

If I do the things I have to do, I step into the unknown. And the unknown can be scary.

All the things I need to do are writing related and the outcome of my doing these things might just be wonderful. Like, dream-fulfilling awesomeness with a bow and a box of chocolates.

One thing I’m learning about myself in this writing journey is that sometimes I’m far too comfy living in the in-between. Dwelling in the possibility (to twist a favorite quote by Emily Dickinson). Right now I’m in a solid state of MAYBE. To take the next step forward will lead me either in the direction of YES or NO. MAYBE is ripe with possibility. I could stay in MAYBE forever, living in the tension of this piano hanging above. But, let’s be honest: staying in MAYBE is just NO in disguise.

So I enlisted some help in the form of a book. Do the Work, the follow-up to Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art.

You need to read The War of Art. And then, a couple of months after you’ve read it and your rocket boosters begin to sputter, read Do the Work.

Whereas The War of Art explains the battle you’re in any time you set out to accomplish something that will better yourself and/or the world, Do the Work gives you a swift kick in the pants. Tells you to get off your butt and, well, do the work.

This book exposes all of your excuses and leaves you with a lighted path toward your destination. It tells you how to get started, how to get finished and how to get your project out the door.

I need this book right now. That piano is looming over me. I’ve got people waiting on me. Heck, I’m waiting on me.

The dishes are done. The laundry, too. All my excuses are stupid obstacles I’ve put in front of myself to keep me from doing what I need to get done. I need to give fear the finger and get on with this show.

Now, too, this blog post is done. And I have nothing left to do, but…

Do the work.

Leg Day, Part III

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Hey everybody, much apologies. I drafted this on Thursday as I was coming down with a nasty flu, and in my fever-ridden state, I thought I’d published it already. Lo siento! And now, without further ado (though if you haven’t seen them, first go read parts one and two) here is the conclusion to Leg Day. Oh, and if you don’t know the “Mullins” reference, check this video out.

After dinner, Char wheeled into her room, flopped on her bed, and messaged Eddie:

Hey

Hey, what’s up?

no legs tomorrow

what? why?

dunno. Dad filed a grievance.

SHIT

WHAT????

I did that once too. When we found out Cleo was pregnant.

Oh my god. Oh my god Eddie what am i going to do????

I can’t believe he did that he should have known better argh wtf do you want me to come over

no. You know my dad’s always had his head in the clouds. Just tell me where it is. You know what.

7th Street and Collins. We can come with you.

Not until you’re ready

are you ready?

Char held down the delete button, watched it eat everything. She spent the rest of the evening patiently repairing her wheel. At ten o clock, her dad paused in the doorway.

“Lights out, honey.”

“I know. Five minutes.”

He pressed his palms against the rims of his chair, wheedled back and forth. “Listen. I was thinking. I’ve got tomorrow off, why don’t we make a day of it?”

“A Leg Day, Dad?” She hated herself for saying it, but out it came.

Dad flinched, but soldiered on. “We can go to the zoo, I know you’ve been wanting to see the thylacines. And then maybe one of those monster movie immersives? I hear Riders is pretty good.”

“Dad, you hate those things.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought it would be good to get out of the house. I understand if you don’t want to hang with your old man.”

Char bit her lip. “No, it sounds cool. Just do me one favor, okay? Let me sleep in.”

“Done and done, kiddo. Goodnight.”

She leaned over and turned out the light. Sat in the dark. Listened to the tap run as Dad brushed his teeth. The creak of the floorboards in his bedroom as he rolled over them. The ebb and flow of his snore. When Mom was alive, she used to spend half her nights on the couch, complaining with bitter love that she’d married a chainsaw. But for Char, Dad’s snore was like crickets, or the wind in the beech trees, his somnolent growl softened into a lullaby by all the walls between them.

Mom. Mom, and Cleo’s baby. She cried then, stuffing her fingers into her mouth so she wouldn’t make a sound. Then, her rim replaced and wheels greased, she rolled out into the street, and downtown, to 7th and Collins.

Toughs hovered on every corner, accompanied by ladies wearing amounts of makeup inversely proportional to amounts of clothing. They watched her roll by like vultures tracking a baby gazelle. LIVE SHOW XXX The neon lights gleamed as she rolled in.

“Give me the Mullins,” she said to the waifish girl behind the counter, whose cobalt-blue eyeliner winged all the way to her hairline.

“You sure, doll? Once you’re off the grid, you’re one of us.”

“I know.” She took the paperwork the waif pushed at her. “What’s this.”

“Affidavit. In case you’re caught.”

Char signed. The bell over the door jangled behind her.

“What,” said the waif, “Did you bring your whole family?”

“Eddie,” Char turned. “Dad? Dad, I’m sorry, it’s too late.“

“Sweetie, it was always too late.” Dad nodded up at the waif. “Give me the Mullins.”

“You guys want tourists, kittens, oakhearts, or bladerunners?”

“Baby, we were born to run,” said Dad.

“Is he always so cheesy?” the waif asked, passing Char two pairs of black, titanium legs, curved like halos, like scythes waiting to reap.

“Yeah,” Char said, feeling tears spark behind her eyes. “Totally.”

Fresh Eyes or a Fresh Load?

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We’ve all gotten bad writing advice at one time or another. Most of us eventually shake it off and move on. Heck, I bet there are a few of you out there that have given bad writing advice. I won’t point fingers, you know who you are. What I want to bring to light is a piece of good advice that could be bad if done wrong.

Fresh Eyes

At one time or another you’ve heard someone suggest this. I’ve heard it and suggested it. The scenarios differ — You’ve just completed your first draft; A scene has you stumped; You can’t seem to figure out what a character is doing or why; the story has lost momentum. Then when you reach out for help you get this response (in some form or another):

“Put it down for a while. Then come back to it with fresh eyes.”

This type of advice should only be given out along with explicit instructions. A doctor would go around writing prescriptions without instructions. If that wasn’t enough, the pharmacist also  has to tell you how to take it when you pick it up. I consider this piece of advice as a prescription. If you abuse it, you risk flat-lining your entire work.

So how do you keep it from doing harm, you ask? First off, let’s split into two groups. Unfinished works and finished works.

When you get this advice for solving a problem that’s keeping you from finishing your story, it often time means you’re too close to the situation. Maybe you can’t see the novel for the characters. You can get so focused on a single character, setting or event that you can forget what story you set out to tell. Then on the flip side, you could be so engrossed in the big plot or theme that you forget that each character has their own life to be fleshed out on the page. In this case, “fresh eyes” could mean jumping to a different part of the story or revert to an outline (I just saw all the pantsers out there clench). Working other parts of the story can solve the whatever roadblock you’re currently facing.

As for the lucky ones who are dealing with a finished manuscript, fresh eyes is usually meant as, “Take a break. Relax. Drink some wine. In a few days, weeks or months you can pick up the finished draft and work on revisions. That way you can view it somewhat anew.”

I’ve seen more stories die from this mentality. Sure a break seems just. A celebratory glass of wine is a great way to cap off the big THE END you just typed. But putting off edits and revisions for more than a day can be a big mistake.

Let’s be real. If you wrote the story chronologically (most do), that first chapter was printed and dried months and months ago. Even if you are a NaNoWriMo winner, you’re still thirty days from your first words. I’m sure your eyes will be plenty “fresh” to start again. Also, with the ending so fresh in your mind, the beginning chapters should be easier to tweak knowing your end game (again, talking to you pantsers out there).

Either way, finished or unfinished, if you just can’t stand the thought of diving back in right away, do yourself a favor and start something else. Immediately. Even one day away from writing, is one more day to create excuses to not go back the next.

500 Club (5/17)

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This Thursday I find myself ready to melt into the concrete. With some luck, maybe we can also thaw a bit of that creative glacier with a few writing prompts. Who knows where the word-runoff could lead.

Here’s what to do:

  1. Write 500 words based on one of the two prompts below.
  2. Post it to your blog.
  3. Give us a small taste in the comments below along with a link to the full text.

As always, feel free to change the name and sex of the characters as you see fit. After all, it’s your story.:

1. Finish this opener: Only one left. The first two were wasted.

2. Flashback Challenge: Write 500 words where the last half is a flashback. The first half should stand on its own, but have the flashback change the way the reader sees the first half.

The Worst Writing Advice I Ever Ignored

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There’s a lot of writing advice out there. A lot of it is great. And some of it is B-A-D, bad. Like many things in life, you have to take writing advice with a grain of salt. Always trust your gut.

My first real foray in writing was in 2004. I jumped in with both feet by participating in the 3-Day Novel Contest, an adrenaline filled writing fest in which writers try to write an entire novel between Friday midnight and Monday midnight over Labor Day weekend. It’s crazy. I loved it. I finished my novel by deadline, turned it in and…won third place.

I was shocked. Thrilled. I took it as affirmation that I was meant to be a writer.

Knowing that the novel I’d written wasn’t first place material (yet), I asked an acquaintance in my book club to read it and give me comments. I didn’t have the network of writers I have now, obviously. But this woman was very well read and worked in communications. I felt confident she’d give decent feedback.

Imagine how I felt then, after the high of placing third in the 3-Day, when I read the note — the only note — she’d written on the manuscript. In essence, it suggested I use my energies elsewhere.

Any enthusiasm I’d had for the story fizzled away. I put the novel away and didn’t look at it again for years.

Only recently have I realized how much stock I put in her opinion, and really for no good reason. And only recently have I thought about that novel and seen that, while it still needs work, it’s something I shouldn’t have given up on. That I won’t give up on.

The worst writing advice I was ever given was to not pursue writing. I am SO glad I didn’t heed that advice. That I trusted my gut and didn’t give up on my dream.

If I may be so bold as to offer you advice now… Always scrutinize the advice you’re given. Regardless if it comes from someone you trust, always trust your gut and your passion for your dreams more.

500 Club (5/10)

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I see we found our way to another Thursday and yet another set of writing prompts. Let’s see if we can’t wring some creative thoughts in 500 words. Think you can do it? Here’s all you need to know to get at it:

The rules as we see fit:

  1. Write 500 words based on one of the two prompts below.
  2. Post it to your blog.
  3. Give us a small taste in the comments below along with a link to the full text.

As always, feel free to change the name and sex of the characters as you see fit. After all, it’s your story.:

1. Deus ex machina: Where a seemingly unsolvable situation is neatly wrapped up by an intervening god, character, event, object, etc. A device better avoided… except this time. Write 500 words from the view-point of that intervening god, character, event or object.

2. Picture Worth 1,000 500 Words: Write 500 words based on the picture below.

Click for larger image.

All Tied in Knots

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It’s confession time, again. And there’s nothing worse than posting one of these that sounds more like a list of excuses than a list of accomplishments. I have a little of both this month. Okay, more of one than the other.

For the last month I’ve felt like I’ve had my hands tied when it came to getting anything creatively done. Everything from house hunting to laptops breaking plagued me this month. Just classic cases of life happening. Converging all at once makes it suck that much more.

Those were legitimate problems to stop writing for a while. Now they’re not. However, the longer I went without writing, the harder it was to pick it up again. I began looking for other things to do that would keep me from writing. You know, things like house work.

So in concerted effort to break that unhealthy chain, I’ve started to write. My first task was to finish the Round Robin story we set out to do **mumble-mumble** weeks ago. To keep it fair, I didn’t (completely) read it until I knew I’d have the time to finish it. Shooting from the hip is a big premise to the story, and I didn’t want to deviate from that. You can read the full story here, or get to it from the menu bar above.

Now I’ll wrap this up so I might get to another short story I have brewing. In the mean time, can you let me know how you manage to get out of your non-writing slumps? One can never have to many tools at his or her disposal.

Up and Over the Query Letter Mountain

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I used to read angsty blog and forum posts written by frustrated writers who were toiling over query letters and think, What’s the big deal? You write the letter, you send it off. Clearly they were making mountains out of mole hills.

Then it came time for me to write one.

And I got it.

What a nerve-wracking, nail-biting, anxiety-inducing venture that little letter is. Turns out those mole hills loomed rather large after all.

I questioned everything. Was I professional enough? Too professional? Overly personal? Cold? Desperate. Did I capture the essence of my book? Holy cow, what was the essence of my book? Hang on, I wrote a book?! In a blink, I’d over-analyzed everything and was totally out-of-whack.

Then I remembered a little book I’d downloaded a while ago that I thought might come in handy one day.

Elana Johnson’s From the Query to the Call. Great book. Filled with practical information and examples of winning letters. I only wish I’d remembered it when I first sat down to craft my letter.

If you’re about to enter the querying fray, check out Elana’s book. It’s free on her website. Seriously, it will lead you through the madness. (Thank you, Elana!)

The other resources that have been wonderful are Amy and Kate, my two writer friends who are also writing query letters right now. We’ve been workshopping each others’ letters. So helpful, getting feedback from people you trust an who want to see you succeed.

So that’s this month’s confession: my query letter is out in the world. *gulp* I hope it does what it’s supposed to do.

Now I find myself joining those angsty writers obsessing over response times and acceptance rates and all the other things that drive us writers bonkers. Turns out you tackle on overly-tall mole hill, and there’s another one right there, waiting to be climbed.

500 Club (4/26)

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Hi everybody, it’s time to write!

Here’s the rules for our little game:

  1. Write 500 words based on one of the two prompts below.
  2. Post it to your blog.
  3. Give us a line or two in the comments, along with a link back to the full text.

1. Write a story about a tight-knit community. Does your hero want to break free, or remake the rest of the world in his community’s image? And would that be a good or a very bad thing?

2. Start with an omen. A raven, a black cat, a shining light haloing someone’s head. Just make sure your omen foreshadows the opposite of what we expect (halo = bad! Raven = good!)

Good luck and have fun!

A Writing Lesson from Sherlock

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There’s a TV show I used to watch, back in the days before I took writing seriously. BBC’s Coupling. Some shows made me smirk and others snicker. Coupling is one of the only shows that has made me laugh out loud. The writing was brilliant. The writer was Steven Moffat.

Imagine my joy, then, when it was announced Steven Moffat would be taking on Doctor Who after Russell T. Davies. Huge relief. Oh good, I thought, the show will be fine. *exhale*

And then, like an extra pressie on Christmas morning, along came BBC’s Sherlock, with none other than Mr. Moffat at the helm.

Sherlock blew me away. And it taught me something about writing. Namely, that passing dialogue can be used to plant plot seeds along a story line.

Elementary, right?

(Sorry. Had to.)

One of the things I love most about Moffat’s story lines are the clues he hides along the way. Little gems that seem at first like throw away lines, and only later — on second and third…and fourth viewing — are seen for the foreshadowing omens they really are. This is particularly true in the final episode of the second season of Sherlock, The Reichenbach Fall. I want to give examples here, but…well…spoilers.

Okay, fine. Here’s one. If you haven’t seen the episode yet, don’t read. In fact, I’ll put it in white text so you’ll have to highlight it to read it and then you can’t blame me for the spoilers, deal?

Spoiler example here:

In what seems a transition scene in The Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock startles Mrs. Hudson. She says, “Oh Sherlock, you made me jump”. Seems like a throw away line. Passing dialogue. Fill. Until you get to the climax of the show, and what you realize is that little statement, “Oh Sherlock, you made me jump” is LOADED with foreshadowing. 

Kind of gives you goosebumps, doesn’t it? 

See? That’s brilliant. And it happens again and again throughout the show.

That’s the kind of writer I want to be. Beyond tone and setting, I want even my passing dialogue between characters to do as much work as possible. To become road signs for what is to come. To be on the page and yet invisible such that the reader will want to read the book again just to find those markers missed during the first read.

There’s only one way I’ll learn how to do this, you know. Only one way to really understand how to effect this trickery in my own work.

I’m going to have to watch Sherlock again.

And again.

And, as Sherlock would say…observe.

P.S. – Sherlock will air on Masterpiece/PBS beginning next week. Check your local listings.