The Epistolary: Writing Exercise and Personal Journey

Crossposted from Blogetary 2.0.

Back in July, I was going through a book of writing exercises and the one I was working on was called an epistolary. You pretend you come upon a stash of letters, or even use a real stash of letters, and write story from that, basically reconstruct the letters into a story.

Such an exercise is actually one of the earliest versions of the novel, or so my professors taught me when I was at Western. Fanny Burney’s novel, Evelina, was one such novel. Carrie Fisher wrote her semi-autobiographical novel, Postcards from the Edge, using an epistolary form for the first part of the book, leading the reader from postcards and letters to journal entries, before finally landing them in the first person narrative of the story.

Well, I thought I would take a stab at it, though it was probably going to take longer than a single night. But I got caught up in creating this thing, and ended up working on it most of that evening before finally winding up to the ending that had been in my head since the beginning of the story.
I feel good about that story, what I did and where I took it. The style reminds me a little of one of my favorite writers, Italo Calvino. I hope I haven’t inadvertently copied him. I’ll have to look into that. I’ve gone through the piece once, but it’s still “baking” (Rising? Proofing?) right now before I go through it and do some more tinkering. It’s been a few years since I sent anything out there. Not even sure where I’d send it! But I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. It needs a few more drafts before I even think about that.

In the middle of writing that piece, I also realized I had material ready-made for a real epistolary. I had letters and cards I had sent to my dad from the time I was in grade school on up through college.

But let me back up a bit so you get where I’m coming from.

As my friends and I get older, more and more of us are becoming members of the “adult orphan” club. Some people “lose” their parents at a young age (though I hate that term “lose” – as if a person were an earring or a set of keys) and that is a devastating experience I’m thankful I never went through. The rest of us who are lucky enough to have our parents around into our adult lives, usually don’t have to worry about becoming members of the “adult orphan” club until we reach at least our 40s and 50s.

And then we watch and wait as each of us in our cohort becomes a member of the club. Whether suddenly, or as a result of a long illness, eventually our parents die. And even though we are adults, that experience of “losing a parent” crushes the child within all of us. I remember years ago talking with a neighbor about it. She was in her 60s and she talked about how much like an orphan she felt after her mother died some years before. Another friend of mine whose parents had both passed away a few years ago has said it was like losing his champions.

Neither of these people had perfect relationships with their parents. And yet, they still felt overcome with loss when their parents died.

And when that happens, when a parent, or anyone close like that dies, those left behind are left with putting the rest of those lives, the personal belongings that had meaning once upon a time, to rest. Because it’s not over when someone dies. I mean, some people are more prepared, more organized, than others. My grampa had a list with all the information needed for accounts, who to call and notify, the stuff about the will, what to do with his body, etc. Most people aren't that prepared. Even with all that, it still took time.

After the body and brain have ceased to work and have been cremated or laid to rest or otherwise taken care of, it can take months, or even years, for a person’s entire life to be put to rest.

After all the relatives, friends, agencies, acquaintances and everyone else has finally been notified of your loved one’s passing, after the body has been disposed of, after you have acknowledged your own grief, there’s still all the material possessions to go through, homes to figure out, the online life to slowly shut down, the financial threads to be untangled and released. Jumping through hoops with people over the phone or in person who are trained NOT to believe you when you say, “I’m trying to shut down the email/account because my father/mother/spouse died and no, I do not have the PIN, but I might have the password and I do have the death certificate/social security number….” Or whatever else it will take for them to believe you.

And as much as you think it will be something you will have cleared up maybe a month after the death, that’s just not how the world works. Your body holds your grief as pain, and every task you do in laying your loved one to rest is taxing your body, your brain, your emotions. It is all painful. If you can accomplish one task a week while continuing to carry on with your life, that’s doing okay. If you can do one task a day? Phew! Wow! Make sure to give yourself time to crash and burn, because your body will demand it; laying a loved one to rest is hard work.

After watching other friends of mine who have had to go through this, and now as my family goes through a “laying to rest” of my father’s life, I think a safe guess for how long this takes is 18 months. Yes, after a parent dies it could take 18 months before everything with their lives is finally settled and laid to rest. Maybe more, maybe less.

But when this happens to you, and it will, remember that. Mark it on your calendar and hold it out as a marker to hang onto when it seems like everything is taking so long to sort through and manage: 18 months.

Earlier this year, in the spring (about six months after Dad died), one of the projects I took on to help lay my father’s life to rest was to go through the personal correspondence he had kept over the years and, if possible, mail it back to the people who had written him.

At first I just picked at the pile of correspondence that spilled out of the package. I figured it would be an easy evening in front of the TV. You know, just tossing the cards and letters in piles whilst watching Star Trek or Grimm or something. Right? I might cry, but that would be par for the course.
But it was more difficult than that. I couldn’t seem to approach it head on. I pulled out some folders I could use for keeping them organized. I’d pick a card or letter up, see who had written it and put it in a pile, but then pull another one out and the first one would tumble somewhere and get lost in the pile again as I read the second letter.

And then one day, I just started in. Not just sorting them, but reading them, thinking about these people who loved my father and wrote him, remember the stories he’d told me about these people he loved back.

My dad wasn’t sentimental, most of the time. He was English, which is not quite the same as Nordic, but bordering on it (Viking genes, you know). But he wouldn’t have kept these letters and cards if the people who wrote them hadn’t meant something to him.

I know. I was reading private correspondence, and a part of me felt squeamish at that. But the writer in me was fascinated at the breadth of story that could be mined in this correspondence. The daughter in me, who missed her father so much, just wanted to hang onto one more thing that was part of her daddy.

I could only do a few each night. The more I read, the more I remembered about my own life, what Dad had told me about his life, and the more I learned about these people my dad loved, as well as about him. I cried every night thinking about the love in this family. It was exhausting.

For example, there were cards and letters from my Nana and her mother, "Mrs Edwards." Nana, or more formally Grandmother Iris (but we just called her Nana) was my dad’s stepmother. I remembered Dad describing a distant relationship with a woman who may or may not have cared for him. For my sister and I, she was the grandmother in England who would send us the occasional nice gifts for Christmas and had the handwriting that was nothing like Dad’s or Mom’s or Grampa’s and Gramma’s. So, I never really knew her. However, these letters were from a woman who really cared about Dad. She encouraged him, asked about him. And her mother, even, really enjoyed my dad, sending him a card or two as well.

There were also cheerful and newsy letters and cards from his brother and brother’s family. Letters from my sister Heather and I that ranged from one-liners from camp to long, rambling missives about our lives and asking him about his. A couple from Mom. Cards from Meeg. More newsy letters from my sister Elizabeth. And then there were a few letters and postcards from friends who must be long gone now. I couldn’t even decipher the names to figure out a proper place to send them back to; those “orphans” are finding a home with my own cards and letters and the ones from Nana (who passed away a few years ago).

Rambling letter I wrote Dad while I was at college. I was babysitting and we were playing with markers.

Card I sent to Dad for Father's Day, because the antelope was wild and free like my junior high self thought Dad was.

So, back to the idea of epistolaries as a writing exercise.

In July, when I was working on the writing exercise, I was also still sorting through those letters and cards. And after writing the faux epistolary, I had what I thought was this brilliant idea. I thought that after I had sorted through all the cards and letters and sent them off to their homes and only had mine left, that I would do a close read of them and write an epistolary based on my real letters.

I KNOW! Great idea, right?

Well…

Not so much. Or at least, not yet. Well, you can try it if you want to, but I can tell you from experience that trying that less than a year after someone's death is not a good idea.

Beside, real life doesn’t always have a story, an arc, an easy beginning, middle, crisis, and end. And so it was with my letters. There wasn’t an easy arc to follow, no beginning, middle, crisis, and end as I wrote my dad the rambling letters about school and music and sports and boys and moving and jobs. It was messy, like real life.

And that’s the other thing. It was messy, funky, bloody, and too soon, too close to home. The girl that I was, and the woman I have become are completely different and at the same time also exactly the same. But separating out what is story and what is not and how tell a true story out of it all – well…
I have a bumper sticker up in my home office from a publisher as a reminder to be true to the work: “Write Gutsy. Write Lovely. Write Bloody.”

Bumper sticker from Write Bloody Publishing (the founder, Derrick Brown, is also a good poet).

I’d like that to happen sometime with my letters, sticking close to the bone and writing gutsy, writing bloody lovely, but it’s just not going to happen any time soon.

Obsolescence and Wringer Washing Machines

Crossposted from Blogetary 2.0

One of the exercises from "Clear Out the Static in Your Attic" is to take something that's obsolete and explore it from the perspective of being out of time. Look at the tension that happens when it is out of its regular time and place. Alternately, try to imagine something that is used all the time now, which may become obsolete sometime in the future. Explore what that looks like.

For this exercise I decided to explore the old wringer washing machine that's used at Pickett Fences down the street.

This GE Wringer Washer is similar to the one my gramma had.

 

 Time in a Washing Machine

The shop was one of those upper class boutiques that fakes old-fashioned working class sensibilities with creaky wood floors and fixed-up crap your grandparents and great-grandparents threw out because the new stuff from Sears & Roebuck really did work better. Vintage things you could have gotten from your parents for free when they cleaned out the attic or the garage or went through your grandparents things after a funeral, sat next to artisanal objects and products handcrafted — sometimes by special snowflakes and sometimes by actual artists and artisans.

And all of the items — Vintage and artisanal alike — cost much more than your working class family would have ever dreamed of paying for such things as soaps, scarves, cards, buttons, and other cool objects.

Old things made new and cool again.

New things being cool because they had the patina of being old, because they could.

One of the shiny new old things in the store was the outer shell of a wringer washer sitting in the middle of the store.

I wasn't going to go into the store, I really wasn't. My budget didn't normally include visiting boutiques that had objects that cost enough to bite into my grocery budget, or clothes that would only fit prepubescent girls with no hips.

But this old wringer washer, sitting in the middle of the room, it drew me in.

I felt myself shrinking as I approached the old washer. Slowly, I was changing from a 50-something woman in a 21st century city, to a small-town six or seven-year-old girl. Gramma's voice was in my head warning me stay away from the wringer washer as she fed in the clothes from the basin into the hard rubber spools. My little hands and arms might get caught up and pulled through the wringer.

My six-year-old self wanted to help her grandmother, but obediently clasped her hands behind her back as she stood on tiptoe to see into the basin. Watch the clothes pulled out, fed into the wringer, back into the basin. Rinse. Repeat. Hung to dry on the clothesline in the utility room of the basement.

And then I am standing over the hollowed out basin in the boutique, once again a grown woman, and staring into a container of vintage scarves. This is nothing but a display piece. No monster agitator to mangle my hands and my clothes. No greedy wringers to take off my fingers or arms. Inert. Dead. The working-class demon is now an empty shell of itself in an upper class boutique on Larchmont Boulevard.

Workshopping through "Clear Out the Static In Your Attic" — A Review

Crossposted from Blogetary 2.0

When I went to a poetry reading recently, I entered a door prize raffle and won some poetry books and a book of writing exercises, "Clear Out the Static In Your Attic," by Rebecca Bridge and Isla McKetta, published by Write Bloody Publishing, September 2014.

Some of the door prize swag from the poetry reading.

Why this book?

I have enjoyed some of the poems from the poetry books I received, but I think the gold nugget in the door prize I received was this book. Previously, I blogged about getting into some of the exercises in this book as a way to self-workshop. I was going to leave it at that, but decided it might be good to leave an in-depth user review for anyone who might be on the fence about spending the money on it (hint: Long story short, I'm for it. And if the price is steep for you — $10 for Kindle or $13-15 for paperback can be steep when you're trying to make ends meet — try tracking down a used copy or see if it's available on BiblioBoard or somewhere).

If you don't have the time to track down or create a writers group or can't afford a workshop on your own, then something like this book might help keep you fighting the good fight in the writers world. "Clear Out the Static In Your Attic" (still think it's an awkwardly worded title, but there, not my book) won't replace a good comprehensive six-week course, of-er-course, which can cost anywhere from $300 to $600 or more. And going through a book will never take the place of interacting with other writers, getting critique and feedback, or reading your own or others' work aloud (great for catching all sorts of problems in your writing, especially the ebb and flow of dialogue), but for $15 this book will help motivate you to get back into writing shape or get you to start looking at what you are writing differently.

That's how I approached using this book. When I delved into it, I hadn't worked on my poetry or fiction for at least a year. While I do write some small filler articles at the community newspaper where I work or occasionally write resumes or bios or letters or other copy for clients, that's not the same as using my creativity muscles or stretching my storytelling bones. You need to have writing stamina to work on poetry of all types or specific characters or story line or plot over time. It's like any other exercise; you need practice. So, that's how I have been using this book, to help me get back into the practice of writing creatively on a regular basis. This is what I have learned.

Pros:

This book has 47 chapters, which means that if you only did one chapter a week, you would get a whole year's worth of use out of it. You might not do that. You might do several exercises in one night, skip a couple of weeks, and then go back to it. Perhaps you're setting yourself a goal to write every day, so you might also do one exercise a day, that would be a month and a half. (Note: I wouldn't recommend a hurried or slapdash method like that, by the way, as many of the exercises require the writer do some prior research or homework. So, a weekly appointment with a chapter seems the best way to go, in my opinion.) The point is, one could use this book to keep one writing for a sustained amount of time, and so get in the habit of writing regularly, just as one needs to get in the habit of exercising regularly. So, for me anyway, it belongs in the "useful" category for that alone.

Also, while this is a straightforward book of writing exercises, the writers understand how the creative brain works and have set it up so that the creative part of your mind can anchor to something to help it create. It won't get bored. So, the book is set up as if a brain was like a house with an attic with all sorts of boxes and closets of things in it. These things in the metaphoric attic can inspire writing. Each chapter looks at a different part or something stored in the attic. Here we find a secret, there we explore a lamp or a floorboard, old letters or a sewing kit. And the writer is to use that as a starting point in a writing exercise, to create a scene, poem or essay, or whatever.

Each chapter also has slightly different input from the two separate writers as to how to approach that part of the attic to accomplish the writing exercise, so it's not just one person's point of view. An example is usually included, as well as a brief list of books for further reading. Sometimes I read the example and look over the list of books, sometimes I don't. I don't always need it or want it (though they make for interesting reading).

For the most part I have found the exercises fairly intuitively based and easy for me to grasp. I think they are natural exercises for a writer to undertake. Some require doing homework, but it's the kind of homework that needs doing anyway, such as eavesdropping into conversations to hear the cadences and ebb and flow of speech patterns (writers are a nosy lot). Or looking up poems, sayings or old photographs for inspiration. In fact, one of my past exercises was to go out and eavesdrop. And my next exercise is to look for an inspiring photograph to write a story or poem on. As I write in the kitchen with photos of my family staring down at me, all I really need to do is look up on the wall to find something if I like. Or I could go open up one of several boxes I have stored. I have my pick. (I had to try a little harder to find a spare seat at a cafe and listen in on people talking. That was hard.) The point is, though, that when I was writing stories and poems regularly I didn't need to be told to go look for a photograph. Sometimes it was just necessary to go look for that picture of that garden of my Grandmother's because that was the one I was trying to describe. Again, this book is getting me back in that habit.

I haven't gotten further in than the first eight chapters, though I have peeked ahead to see what's coming. And the exercises do appear to get more difficult and demanding as one goes along, so if one keeps at it, it will make one push oneself and grow in one's writing. This is a good thing. I had assumed that the exercises would be all easy when I first began, but it's nice to know that there are challenges coming up that will push me into writing better, writing more close to the bone. To borrow words from the publishing company that put out the book, to write more bloody.

Also good is the fact that, for the most part, these exercises can be accomplished with little more than paper and pencil or pen. There are a couple that may require going to the computer or the internet to get say a photo or run a program, but mostly it's done with what's in one's head and at hand. Since I work looking at a computer screen most days, typing on a keyboard, I find that a good contrast for me. My hand sometimes cramps up with the writing while working on the exercises, but it's better to give my eyes a rest, or I wouldn't do any writing at all. And the contrast also seems to spur me to go off on jaunts that I might not otherwise give myself permission to take. And while I am in danger of repeating myself, I will say it again, a writer needs to build up stamina. If I need to build up the muscles in my writing hand so I can churn out better poetry and prose, so be it.

Cons:

The only real con I can see with this book is how people treat it. I think if the writers were asked they'd say that these exercises are meant to be jumping off points for the person going through them. These exercises are meant to be suggestions, not rules. However, there are people out there in the world who will read through these exercises and think of them as "rules." Some people are just like that. They see a recipe in a cookbook or read in a magazine what the next fashionable cut of something is and take it as "gospel," with no thought of improvising something to suit themselves, or just for the hell of it.

If you are one of these people I do believe you can still get a lot out of these writing exercises, however, I beg you, please, give yourself permission to improvise and explore, because that's what these exercises are all about. Throw the rules out the door and just treat these exercises as suggestions for mental play.

For example, you tell me you can't write about an attic because you never had one? Well guess what, neither did I. The most attic we ever had was the space between the ceiling and the roof that Grampa kept us out of because he's put insulation up there to keep down the heating bill, but otherwise it was dangerous for anyone to be up there.

But, I had a really cool basement growing up, and I have known old houses with all sorts of nooks and crannies and rooms hidden here and there. I grew up reading about wardrobes that were doorways into far off lands, and I watched TV shows where a police box was bigger on the inside and space ships could take me galaxies away. So I can imagine quite a bit for my writing exercises, et voilà! I have my inspiration, just the same as if I had my attic.

So, as long as you're willing to improvise, go with the flow, use your imagination and use these exercises in the spirit in which they are presented, as jumping off points to get you writing more, writing better, then you'll find this a very helpful book.

Teddy tells me it's time for bed.

Gramma and the Giant Tomato Worm — Illustrated

Cover of Gramma and the Giant Tomato Worm.

Back during the summer of 2011, a short story I had written, "Gramma and the Giant Tomato Worm," was published in Sam's Dot Publishing (SDP) magazine "Beyond Centauri." Soon after it came out, my first novella, The G.O.D. Factor, was also published by SDP. As a run up to the publication of the novella, I read a scene from my short story here that you can listen to / watch if you're in the mood.

(Side note: SDP had a long and venerable history in the genre small press world and I was proud to have my story published in various publications there, as well as a couple of novellas. However, "Beyond Centauri"  and "Aoife's Kiss" and other of SDP's books were bought up and then squashed by White Cat Publications. And if you see anything by me on White Cat Publications, I don't have anything to do with that. I've never received any money from any sales of books or stories by me on that site, if any have even sold. SDP no longer exists except as some weird blog site obviously owned by someone who must have bought the domain name. You can try to find some of the original SDP stuff, such as Scifaikuest at Alban Lake Publishing, and they officially carry some of my books and do actually pay me when those books sell. Though if you just want something by me you can also bypass them altogether for some of my stuff and find me at Lulu and Amazon. Okay, side note over. Just remember White Cat bad, Alban Lake good, and when in doubt, just go to Amazon.)

Later I self-published "Gramma and the Giant Tomato Worm" in a collection of stories called Uncommon Faire: A Fiction Sideshow (available on Lulu here and on Amazon here). If you just want to read a collection of some of my short stories, then that's a good place to start. It's also available as an e-book to check out for free at Biblioboard, if your library system subscribes and you can find it (I have a hard time finding it and always seem to have to write a librarian for help).

This spring, after a year of change and death, I decided to pull the story out again, update it a little, spruce it up with some of my homemade illustrations and photos, and publish it by itself. I wanted to do something that would get my creative juices flowing again. The ebook is available on both Amazon and Lulu, if you just want to read it on its own. But if you're considering getting it for kids you know, I suggest the paperback, which right now is only on Lulu. The paperback has pages where someone can continue writing more stories about Gramma or draw other squishy, scary bugs to write stories about. It'll be on Amazon eventually, for those of you wanting to save on shipping charges, just keep checking back to my author page. I'm told it should be there in about six weeks.

Workshopping as a Free Radical — And Throwback Thursday

Crossposted from Blogetary 2.0 blog, a little late as it went up there yesterday and I forgot to put it up here until today. Oh well.

Trying to come up with a clever title -- like that one? Well, it's a title. It's not like I'm at work and have to fit it in a two-line one-column head at 16 or 18 pt. And here I'm Queen of my Blogetary Castle, so it can be whatever I want. So there.

So, yesterday was one of the $5 workshops at the writers country club down the street. I thought long and hard about going. I wanted to do something writing associated, but I knew if I went I'd end up feeling frustrated and ridiculous at the end of the evening again. I realized you can look up who else is attending through the Meet Up app, and saw that once again I'd be twice as old as everyone else. I'd probably end up opening my mouth and sounding like a know-it-all, but you can't help it when you happen to have that many more years experience.

So am I supposed to keep my mouth shut? Isn't this supposed to be the 21st century? If I were in my 20s and keeping my mouth shut someone would be railing and ranting against how white male culture was suppressing my expression. But now, the reason I would keep my mouth shut is to keep the peace and allow these younger women to express themselves freely without feeling shot down by the "knowitall" in the corner. *sigh*

Easier not to go at all. Hell, in a few years I can probably find a writers group in a senior center.
Looked up events that are supposed to be happening at the bookstore down the street as a friend suggested. The one last night was a reading/discussion with an author of a political book (not my cup of tea)  and the only event I'm even remotely interested in is a couple weeks from now and is $250. So, that's out.

But you know, one of those books I won as a door prize when I went to the poetry shindig/hootenanny at the writers country club, was a book of writing exercises. I got it for free and here it was sitting on my kitchen table waiting for me to use it. It's called Clear Out The Static In Your Attic. It feels like a clumsy title to me. I would have said, "Clear the Static Outta Your Attic" — but maybe there was already another book by that title or something. Anyway. Thought it was time to be creative and have my own little workshop as a free radical not attached to anything. I used to do that a LOT when I lived in Bellingham — get the Writers Digest out, or some other book, and set myself writing exercises to work on. If it worked then, it can work now. And it's FREE.
I did a couple of exercises out of it last night. The first one I had tried a few nights before, writing a few six word stories (you know that old story about how Hemingway was asked to write a story with six words?) and then linking them together in one story or poem. So, I worked on that again for a while. I think I might get a poem from that, and maybe something else as well from other phrases I worked up.

The second exercise is to take an epitaph quoted by a favorite author, or even something a favorite author wrote and write based on that. And I couldn't decide what to do. I got up and wandered around my apartment looking at books.

And here's where the Throwback Thursday ( #tbt !) comes in: I pulled "Writing Down the Bones" by Natalie Goldberg off my shelf to page through. She's coming to the West Hollywood Library at the end of the month so she's been on my mind a lot lately (so excited!). I thought I had remembered her saying "Be kind, be kind, be kind" somewhere in that book, but I couldn't find it. However, she does repeatedly say throughout her work to be kind, so maybe that's where I got it. It's what sticks in my head.

Going through that book brought back so many memories. I thought I had bought it in college, but it was actually a couple years later. I remember reading it on weekend road trips from Bham to Seattle. All sorts of bits were underlined. The cover is almost falling off. And then something I read there sent me to another old favorite book, "The Miracle of Mindfulness" by Thich Nhat Hanh. Going through that reminded me of San Francisco all over again. I used to practice breathing while I was hanging on tight to a bus or BART rail on my way too and from work in Oakland.

Eventually I settled on no quotes from either book, but instead remembered something my nurse practitioner had told me last time I'd been in. I barked a laugh, wrote it down and got a pretty good flash story from it, I think. We'll see. A good scene, anyway.

The next exercise in the book used an app on the computer and I stare at the screen a lot these days with work at the paper and at home. As I wanted this to be a computer-free evening, I skipped that exercise and came up with my own, which turned out really well for me. So, I'm sharing it here.
Take a deck of cards. It can be any deck. I used a deck of tarot cards because they have good pictures, usually, and they were close at hand. But you could use SkipBo cards or Uno cards or Creative Prosperity Cards would be good, too. (Might even be better.) Shuffle and cut the deck. Draw seven cards. Write a story based on the pictures on the cards.

Write a story or scene or poem based on random cards pulled from a deck.

I got a good three or four handwritten pages out of that one. Could be a good short story in the making.

By then the sun was setting and I was running out of natural light and I figured my free radical workshop could come to a close for the evening.

So, on the whole, it was a really productive writing workshop last night. In fact, it was so good, I think I'll go back again next week! :D

Workshop notes

Crossposted from my Blogetary blog:

So, today I went to a writers workshop for the first time in a verrrrryyyyyyy long time. It was at the same place that had the poetry reading/slam on Friday night, The Hatchery Press. I was more than a little nervous. And — again — almost didn't go. I worked later than normal at the paper and a last minute rush freelance job came in that needed to be done tonight (still working on it, just taking a break). I hadn't paid any money yet ($5 fee), and I could just de-RSVP.

I thought about it.

But then, I really wanted to go. And you know what made me want to go? I was working on the freelance job. I wanted to get at least a half hour in before taking off for the workshop (and I kind of thought, well maybe I'll shrug the workshop off). I picked a playlist on my iTunes, opened up my workbook, started up my timeclock and started the project. Songs came on, old favorites that I have loved singing to in the past. And guess what? I couldn't sing.

Literally.

Most of my life I've had an alto voice and not the best, but okay. I've sung in choirs. But tonight I couldn't sing. My vocal cords were all wobbly and tight and I couldn't seem to get the right notes. And I started to cry.

Singing, or music of most kinds, writing, drawing -- these are things that have brought joy to my life. And I couldn't even carry a tune!

Now, last couple of weeks, I did do some drawing, but I think it was like picking at rocks and debris that have fallen across the stream. And it helped clear some stuff away to get the creativity flowing again. But something was still hung up.

And I thought, that's it. I can't be stuck like this. It's like entropy. I'm losing all those creative muscles.
Teddy did not want me to go.

But I showed up. I was nervous as anything, like I said before. So nervous that I remember my pencils but forgot my notebook. Had to borrow paper like a first-day-of-class freshman. But it was okay.

There was a handful of us, all different types of writers. Nice people. There were a couple of related writing exercises that helped me explore a character in one of my stories, and perhaps gave me an idea for rewriting one of her scenes. So, I feel good about that.

But...

Yeah, there's a "but."

Not sure I fit there, or not anymore, though there may have been a time when I did. Not saying I won't go back, but I can't tell if I don't feel like I've fit because I've "grown out" of this type of group or if I'm just not comfortable because I haven't been in a writers group for so long, or maybe I'm just not advanced enough.

It just felt awkward — like when you go to a new school and on paper you're in the same English or Math class as where you transferred from, but in reality what you studied and what the current class is studying is completely different. You could be far ahead. You could be behind. It's uncomfortable.
Part of it was the side remark someone made about, "just none of that YA crap" and another part was (on my bit I had written), "well, I could have done without the claws and monster stuff, but otherwise I was fine with it."

As a friend once said, it's hard to write around Muggles if you're not one. Not that I'm about to go all Death Eater on anyone, but dammit, I write monsters. I write myth. I write science fiction and fantasy and sometimes even horror. With kids and teenagers thrown in for good measure, sometimes. And a stab at diverse casts and "strong female characters" -- though basically to me that just means writing complete characters.

I write the "weird stuff" that my dad disparaged of. That's just who I am.

Yeah. So. Anywho.

Maybe I'll go back. Maybe not. For $5 I can't really shake a stick at it, can it? I mean, it got me a page and a half on something that's been on vacation for a year, so that's gotta be something. Gotta keep the stream of creativity flowing somehow.

There's a poetry class next week. If I still have the $5 left from the $10 I broke to go to this workshop — well, we'll see what happens.

Getting out there — starting — again ...

Crossposted over on my Blogetary blog as well.

Today, for the first time in like -- FOREVER -- I went to a club. Heard some good stuff, only had one beer, but that's what $5 will get ya. The cover was $5, too, so the $10 tapped me out.
Okay, so at first, I wasn't going to stay. I was going to go with a friend, but she was feeling under the weather, so she couldn't make it. But man, I haven't been out in ages. I haven't written anything in AGES (and it does feel like eons, but it's only been like a year -- albeit of year of death and change). But nothing gets the ol' creative juices flowing like a live performance. I really needed to go out!
But-but-but — I'm not good in new places on my own unless I have a book, or a pen and a notepad.
But nothing. I needed to go.

Just around the corner. Walking distance. I live in a city for godz' sake. Time to take advantage of it. Forget the purse. Forget changing or trying to look good. I'm not some 20-something anymore trying to get laid. I'm a grown woman and this is about going and doing like a grown woman does. Lipstick — check. Mascara and eyeshadow — check. How bad do I smell? Do I smell like the curry I had for lunch? Run a comb through my hair. Where did those cool urban boots go that I used to have? When did I give up the leather jacket? Where's my China Rain? Why am I grabbing the old green cardigan to wear? Why am I so dowdy?

WHATEVER! Just stuff what I need in my pockets and go. Get OUT! Make sure I've got $5 for beer and $5 to get in. That's all I need.

Say goodbye to Teddy, once, twice, okay, now GO!
I almost turned around and went home a couple of times. But I made it through the door; it was too bright, too loud, too many people — none of them familiar. Rhythmic music pounded out over the speakers; it all felt glaring and cacophonous.

But I'd paid the $5 cover already. Too late to leave. There's a door prize, too. Go figure. I never win anything, but I'll throw my hat in the ring. Why not? It's free.

So, I made a joke with the girl by the raffle table. She was young and pretty and nice. Pretty red dress with gold 1950s-style strappy pumps. And she talked to me like a person. I mean it's her job, but she did a good job of it.

These people know each other, brought friends, or know how to walk up to strangers. Me? Someone introduced herself to me (someone running the show) and to a guy she was talking to; he and I shook hands and promptly walk in opposite directions.

*sigh*

But there's beer. Or wine. But this feels like a beer night. I'd have taken Jack if they had it, but sadly, they did not. So. Beer it was.

Now I was stuck here. The performance hadn't begun, but I could see that like all clubs, musical chairs was in force and I needed to snag one or I'd be stuck.

I chose a comfy chair in a corner, pulled out my phone and texted a friend of mine. "Okay, so I made it out. Now what?"

"Get up! Go talk to another wallflower!"

I looked around. Everyone, it seemed, was talking to someone. Lots of tall, leggy actressy/LA-looking girls (okay, women, but in my head, they're girls) with tight dresses and five-inch pumps. Guys in tight t-shirts looking around, eyeing the chicks with legs that go on forever. Except the guy I was introduced to, who was looking at his phone like I was.

"What other wallflower?" I texted back.

"Just get up and move around."

"Okay. In a minute. After I finish my beer," I lied. I tucked my phone away. I looked at my beer. I was about 3/4 of the way through. When the beer is gone, I vowed, I'm getting up and leaving. Can't stand this music and I'm pretty sure I'm going to hate everyone here. I'm not going to win anything and they've yet to start the show. I've got a Grimm episode at home with my name on it....

The Emcee bounced up to the front, played with the sound system, read a name for a door prize. Not me. I looked at my beer. There was an inch left.

He read another name. Not me, again. I took another sip.

And again. Another name. Not me. I swallowed the last bit of beer.

I needed to leave now. Except he was reading another name. And this time, it WAS me!

I was getting up now for real, to get my prize. I didn't pay attention to what I was getting. I was just so happy I got something. Then I turned around to find my seat now taken by a wallflower I hadn't seen who'd walked in late. Yup. Musical chairs was in force.

And then the Emcee was announcing the act and congratulating us all on coming out of our hovels to make it to a civilized place to hear other writers reading poetry and fiction.

Yeah. That's right. I was at a writing club — Hatchery Press. The door prize a cache of indie-author poetry books and writer doodads.

I felt like the only cavewoman in the place, except for the fact that the Emcee seemed to assume that we were all having a hard time interacting and made us introduce ourselves to each other.

But don't think this was a room full of geeks and dweebs. I mean, those were present, but so were the cool guys, the rockstars, the poetry groupies and the writer roadies. All the high school cliques were present, just in a writerly way.

Short story followed by poem, slipping into a memoir, back to poetry, then a memoir, then poetry, poetry, poetry.....

Folk, contemporary, punk, indie rock, hard driving steel guitars, soft a cappella, screaming vocals — if we'd been listening to music in a dark smoky club, that's what I'd compare the readings to. There was an appearance by James Fearnley of the Pogues reading from his book; readings by emcee Derrick Brown, one of which would have had him arrested in some parts of the world, and Brendan Constantine, who works with the Alzheimer's Poetry Project. There were also several others I just can't remember the names of now, but who all did a great job of standing there before their peers and opening up many-times folded pieces of paper to bleed out their hearts and souls in front of us.
There were times when the "poetry reading lilt" got to me. You know the lilt. Poets who read or perform their poems fall into this habit of ending each line in a lilt, an uplift of the voice. It's why I avoid coffee shop open mics. But then the young poets get better, and get rid of that, and instead every line has no intonation at all whatsoever. It's just got this weird thrust at the end. Not said like a real person talking. Better, but still annoying.

Why can't people just read the damn poem.

But most of the time, the material was good enough, and the poets were good enough (one guy in particular was really good at performing his stuff and I mean, this is Hollywood. I overheard him saying something about doing some acting.... hmm... side thought.... improv classes for poets...) — um — what was I saying? Oh, yeah; the lilt only raised its ugly head a couple of times.

So, yeah. I ended up staying. Go figure.

It was funny, walking around after the performance with my writer swag, checking things out. I got asked a couple of times, "So are you a writer?!" And my inner voice, the one who talks like Janeane Garofalo, wanted to say, "Would I be here if I weren't? I mean, come on!" But then the outer me was all polite and shit. "Yes, I write a little poetry, some sci-fi/fantasy." Usually, people's eyes glaze over at that point, though one assumed I was a screenwriter. (Cue the Janeane Garofalo scoff.)

Anyway, so, the "writers country club" (my nickname for the Hatchery) isn't so bad after all (they charge $150 to $350 a month to be a member, I mean, do you know any writers who can afford that, cuz I sure don't — although at one point they were asking if we made "less than $ XX and I kept having to lift my hand and it was kind of embarrassing. Maybe I am the only broke writer in Hancock Park). Found out I can pay $5 for the occasional workshop or class and not have to sacrifice rent, groceries and kitty litter for the occasional writing class. Besides, I live alone and have a perfectly good home office and / or kitchen table for writing. I don't need that aspect of it. I just want some inspiration to get me going again.

Just something easy to get to, you know, that will prod me into slicing open my veins and bleeding onto the page.

"No one will ever love your stories as much as you do..."

A college friend of mine passed away over the weekend. It was quick, sudden, unexpected. He was someone who was loved by all. And while I mourn the loss of the friend I knew in college and pray for his family and close friends, I also — selfishly — mourn my failed plans to go visit he and his wife (another college friend) some day and show them the story with the character based on him. Mourn sharing the remembrances I have of asking him (one of my first adult friends I confided my need to write stories to — one of my first adult "geek" friends who unapologetically loved scifi, fantasy, and superheroes) about space/time continuums and how he thought they might work.

But that is not about the man. That is about the story. And going through that realization reminded me of this saying:

"No one will ever love your stories as much as you do..."

I remember reading or hearing that somewhere in some writers thing and immediately my brain, focusing on the absoluteness of the statement, came up with all the arguments about how that couldn't be true. For example, there are lots of stories that a reader will focus on because of something in their own life and the writer, once that story or poem is out there, lets it go to have a life of its own. And there have been stories I wasn't sure I liked at all, that other people who read them loved. So, when I first encountered that statement my kneejerk reaction was to reject it.

But now I understand the statement a little more. Stories are a little like children (especially novels). And every parent/child relationship is different, and that is a little bit what it is like. No one loves a baby like their mother or father. No one else woke up in the middle of the night with an idea about that story. No one else watched the main character morph and grow into his or her final self as they went through the story. No one cried and screamed and stayed up until 3 a.m. with that story. You. The writer did.

And yes, by the end of that story, you are so over it. You have spent sooooo much time with that story you can't wait for it to get out of the house. Like a teenage boy driving his parents nuts, you want to shove the story out the door and tell it to go get a job or play ball in the street or SOMETHING. But, like the teenage son (or daughter), if you shove it out the door, send it out to other people before it's ready, then you might be asking for trouble. And some stories, like children, take longer to get out the door than others. That's life.

I confess. I have had a tendency to use the submissions process as a sort of pro tem source of feedback for my stories and poems in the past. I'd do the best I could, get a sketch of feedback from friends, rip through the proof and then send it out. And cry when it wasn't accepted. But then in the meantime, after all that time out in the world, I could look at the story and see aaaaalllll the mistakes. And then if there were editor's comments, there were even others pointed out. I had sent my poor child out into the world without his or her galoshes and raincoat. I had forgotten to straighten their jacket and remind them to say please and thank you. It wasn't the story's fault it had failed, poor thing. It was mine!

I used to say, and still kind of think, that you don't exist in writer world unless you have a submission out there to show editors you still are around. So, I used to feel this pressure to always keep something out there. "Don't forget me! Remember I am out here writing. Like my stories and poetry!"

But I've been learning that pushing stories and poetry out there too soon is like pushing your kids out in the crosswalk before teaching them how to look both ways. Sometimes it's just good to enjoy this creation you're creating. Don't think about where it will go and what it will do. Revel in the creation and the shaping and the editing and revisions. Really take time with the proofing and the feedback from friends and the research to get things right. Just spend time and sink into the world. It will leave your hands soon enough, most likely.

In the meantime, just love your children. Because no one else will love that story like you do.

Is it procrastination or is it work?

Crossposted from Blogetary:

Way back in the 80s and before, when I was much younger and before I had any access to computers, I was writing with pen or pencil on paper and then when I got that down, I would set it next to my typewriter and do my best to type it up and revise it as I typed. And then when I went through that draft I’d set it aside and after a time I’d go through it again, writing by hand bits to stick in here or there and crossing out chunks and then sit at the typewriter and type it out again. Sometimes I had notes written on napkins, paper bags and bits of paper all just stuffed in my purse or backpack or riding somewhere in my car.

It was a long process. Sometimes I’d go through magazines for inspiration. Sometimes I’d make up writing exercises for myself to get better at characterization. I subscribed to an art magazine for a time as a way to get a better grasp on a more visual way to approach writing.

But in the end, I still had to take all that input I had gleaned from the research and exercises and actually sit down and get all those ideas out of my head and onto the paper. And that meant writing it out by pen and/or pencil on paper and/or typing it out. And going through it over and over and over again.

Now, this is not a post about how things were better in the “bad old days.” I don’t think they were better. It is much easier to come up with a readable draft for yourself and others these days. Sure, some people start out with handwritten drafts, but more often than not, we start with typing it out on the screen. And it’s so much easier – the keyboard doesn’t require the punch of fingers, just the mere tap. Correcting mistakes is a walk in the park – no onion paper or back spacing on the correction ribbon, no white out or keys stuck together if you type too fast. Some writers swear by all the tools they use in Scrivener or Final Draft. And then there are the writers who do the whole Post-It Note thing and there are boards (all online). Research doesn’t mean going to the library basement to peer at hard to read microfiche or pouring through the Readers Guide to Periodicals to find the handful of articles you’re looking for to make sure you know how a musket works or some such thing. You can Google it. And if you like what you find, you can download the book. Right there! You can check it out on your e-reader. Need to do research on a personality? Great – find them on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr or Instagram.

But along with this new ease of getting things out on the page and all these fantastic new “tools” has come, I think, a new set of distractions. New ways of putting off the basic writing of the draft in favor of the online research, the “pinning” of topics, putting together playlists for each story or each character, creating a “platform” and “fostering” an audience that we may or may not have using Facebook, Twitter or blogs, creating outlines so detailed that you might as well just sit down and pound out the words themselves. One of those things “they” have told us out there in writer world is to ask ourselves where we see our book in the bookstore. And so we obsess over that. We make ourselves busy making style books for our characters but forget to actually get those characters into the story. We get so preoccupied with making sure our plots fit into the three-act arc or the two-pillar structure or that all our narrative bits are no longer than 150 words (because God-forbid someone might get bored as you actually describe the setting or what’s going through the character’s mind – but isn’t that what you read the story for? To get all those juicy details? Otherwise you might as well just watch a movie!). We want to make so sure our story will fit into all the correct slots and don’t write anything bad before we even put anything on the page. So, we don’t write anything at all! I actually saw a post by a writer who was so terrified of writing anything bad that he just stared at the screen for hours. He’s probably been paralyzed by so many “rules” floating around out there that he can’t get himself to just get the darn story on the page.

Because that’s the point. The point is to get the darn thing on the page. All those other things are just procrastination. It’s just the editor part of the brain trying to keep the creative side from doing anything “wrong.” Only the thing is, part of being creative is putting all the crap out there and seeing what’s good enough to stick. But you won’t do that if you’re so busy being worried about doing something wrong or puttering with outlines and style books and “methods.” All that stuff may help, I’m not saying it won’t, but it doesn’t do a darn thing unless you actually get to writing and go through the actual process of writing your tale, complete and whole, on the page. You have to give your creative side free rein. And that means sitting down in front of a blank screen or page and waiting long enough, usually whilst writing the complete crap that you’re going to delete anyway, until the editor part finally takes a walk or a nap or relaxes and lets your creative side out.

Later – after you have gotten the complete (or as complete as you can get it) story on the page, then and only then, can you go back and take a look at it through the eyes of your editorial self. Then you can take all that work you did on the outlines and style books and decide to either use them or throw them out. After you have completed that draft, then you can decide whether it fits into a certain form – or NOT. Then you can double check how a musket works, or whether a celebrity would do this or that.

All I am saying is that one of the things writers are so very good at is procrastination. We are champions at procrastination. We have created whole groups and industries on tools that may be useful, but that we use to procrastinate doing the actual work.

So, again, I’m not saying to go back to the “bad old days” of handwritten manuscripts or Underwood typewriters, but I am saying that before you set up that style book or pinterest page, before you make those playlists or set up outlines and file folders – consider how much of all that work is actually going to be used for your story and how much is just procrastination.

Are You Searching for Love (Writers Critique Groups) in All the Wrong Places?

Crossposted from Blogetary:

First off, I do not promise to be the end all/be all authority on writers critique and/or support groups. But I’ve been to a few and I was a vice president of a small neighborhood group for a few years. I’ve been on the look out for critique partners as well as writers support groups and workshop groups and been involved with ones that worked and ones that didn’t work for me. Recently, I’ve either read about the search and/or necessity for writers groups (or not) and as well as spoken with people who have been vastly disappointed about the experiences they had with turning to fellow writers for help and critique.

So, I’m going to say what I read somewhere else years ago that has put me in good stead in seeking (and finding) good writers critique/support partners/groups. Just relax and enjoy the search because it’s a lot like dating. Just like dating, you’ll run into egotistical and insufferable jerks, and just like dating, you’ll run into those nice people that you want things to work out with, but it just doesn’t ever quite work out for you. And then sometimes, just like dating, you actually run into someone, or maybe a few someones, who work out for you. Sometimes it works out just for the short term and other times in the long term, either way, the critique and help you get from these people is to be treasured. I wish I could remember what writer’s blog I found my help on, but these are some of the tips I remember from it and have found useful in looking for (and being in) a writers group or a critique partner.

Of course the first rule, above all else (and I do remember where this came from): Be kind, be kind, be kind. I remember reading that first rule at least 20 years ago in Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. Being kind doesn’t mean being “soft” or not pointing out what needs to be worked on. It does mean making sure that you point out the positive as well as the negative aspects of a piece of work. And that when you do point out the negative aspects, it is in an objective and constructive manner. It is not a time to rip things to shreds, make anything personal or be mean. You’re trying to help this other writer become a better writer, not tear them down so bad they end up rocking back and forth in the bathtub for a week.

Critique Partners
1) Compare types of writing. Do you and your prospective critique partners write in similar genres and work in similar areas? You don’t have to, but it can help. Are you a romance writer and the person you’re going to trade manuscripts with a horror writer? It might work. If there are aspects of a specific manuscript that you think the horror writer can address, then at least for that one manuscript, it could be a good match. Or if you like reading horror and they like reading romance, then you’ll probably be fine. But if you don’t like horror and they don’t like romance, it probably won’t work. If you’re going to work with someone else over the rocky road to a hopefully publishable manuscript then you have to at least enjoy the type of writing they do. On the other hand, you don’t want to both be working on types of stories that are so similar that it fosters a competitive spirit that might get in the way of being an object reader of someone else’s manuscript. And it also helps if you’re both going to be working on the same types of writing (novels, short stories, scripts, screenplays, poetry, etc.)

2) Compare your WIPs (Works in Progress). I don’t mean in one of those “So, what have you got there?” ways. I mean take a good, honest objective look at your writing. And then when you look at their writing, take an equally, honest and objective look. If it feels like you are fairly equal when it comes to where you are in your writing level/ability/talent (I’m afraid whatever I say here will spark someone on a discussion on what all that means and I’m trying to bypass that), then proceed. Sometimes that’s hard to judge or we feel unfair when we make the judgment, but if you feel like things are not equal when it comes to where you are in your writing – then if you feel like they are leaps and bounds ahead of you ask for help. Ask them to look at your WIP and see what they say and then move on and find a more equitable partner. If it’s the other way around just remember the above and be kind, be kind, be kind. Offer constructive criticism. Look for the good. And move on to look for a more equitable partner.

3) What is it you want to get out this partnership? Do you want someone who will catch every single mistake you’ve made? Or are you looking for someone who will read and give you general feedback? Or something in between? Are you both going to the same place with your writing? Is it a hobby for one or both of you or serious business? Do you want to meet weekly? Biweekly? Monthly? Every couple of months? Everyone has a different schedule and a different goal, so it’s important with critique partners, just as in dating, that they understand where and what the other person wants and if it’s similar to what the other wants.

Writers Support Groups
1) What do you want out of going to a writers group? Sit down and figure it out. Do you want light support and camaraderie so you don’t feel so alone out there in the world while you’re trying to write? Do you want substantive critique? What is it you’re looking for? Write it down and keep a look out for groups that sound like what you are looking for. Are you looking for a free group, are you willing to pay dues or are you looking more for a “class” group, a workshop where you might end up paying more money?

2) What is the focus of the group? You’ve found a group. Great! Now, is the focus of the group in line with where you are with your writing? Sometimes a group is there just for support, to talk about the ups and downs of writing, share the victories and sorrows of attacking a book, and maybe share some of what each person has written. Sometimes most of the people in the group are hobbyists, they just pen the occasional verse or essay. Sometimes the focus of the group is pure workshop critique, down to business. Sometimes it’s in between. Nothing is right or wrong, but you have to decide what works for you and what you are looking for in a group (see above) and look for that. If you’re just getting into writing or back into writing after a long time away, maybe what you need is a pure support group to hear about other people’s journeys in the writing world. Maybe you want more of a workshop group. The point is, don’t complain about a group that doesn’t work for you. Look at what you gain from it. If what you gain outweighs what you don’t like about the group, then stick with it and get as much as can out of it until you find a group that is a better fit. (And remember this group is supposed to help you in your writing journey, so don’t use it as a reason to procrastinate.) If you are not gaining anything, then move on. The group doesn’t need you if you are going to pull them down with dissatisfaction and it’s not going to help you either to stick with a group that you don’t like being a part of anyway.

3) If you can’t find a group then put one together yourself. Yep, that’s right. Wrangle together your writer friends (you know who they are) and start your own group. Figure out what you want it to do and want it to accomplish, how often you’d like to meet, and start it up. Appoint a leader or two, but use consensus when making group decisions. I would suggest once a month at first, maybe on a Saturday or Sunday at a coffee shop or a home. Make it always the third Saturday or second Wednesday at a certain time. It might take a while for it get off the ground, but if enough people are like minded, then you’ll limp along long enough until you realize one day that your little group has been helping each other with their writing endeavors for a number of years and that you have probably accomplished more than you thought with your own writing along the way.
If you are a writer, then you know that this is something you are involved with for the long haul. You understand that writing is not just a way of gaining “passive income” through some fantabulous book deal. Those fantabulous book deals or self-published e-books that take off like wild fire are few and far between. So, if you know you are in this for the long haul, don’t try to do it all alone. There are other writers out there and it’s good that we find each other and help each other out. In the end, it will help us become better writers.

Last note - on the Blogetary blog a friend pointed out another thing to watch out for is that sometimes critique groups can become like high school cliques. And then all sorts of things can happen like picking on someone's work rather than being objective or trashing someone's work rather than being constructive. 

Keeping Track of Yourself

xposted from here.

Like many writers, I obsessively track my submissions. For the past few years I have used an Excel spreadsheet and only recently discovered the submissions tracker on Duotrope Digest. Now I use both (Gee, obsess much?). While Duotrope is free and subsists on donations and therefore always on the brink of extinction, it offers some things that I haven’t been able to get my little Excel spreadsheet to do. For one, it can give you the percentage of acceptances and rejections (according to what’s been input into their system) for each publication you are considering submitting your piece to. Also, from the data it’s got on hand, it can tell you not only the outside amount of time that a publication tells you it will take to get back to you, but also the average (according to the data) of what the amount of time actually is.

In fact, by using the submissions tracker and including your data in their search engine, you are actually helping yourself and others keep better track of your submissions process. One of the cooler things it does is provide you with your acceptance percentage, which could be depressing, but can also be ultimately motivating. Or at least give you an idea of where you fall on the writers’ Bell Curve. :-P

Now, I know some people are of the “why would you want to keep track of that” school, but practically speaking, if you’re trying to do this writing thing as more than just as a hobby then you pretty much have to keep track. You don’t want to submit the same piece to the same place twice (most places don’t like that unless they specifically request changes and a resubmission). You don’t want to submit your piece simultaneously to several places when many of them don’t accept simultaneous submissions. Most places also don’t like multiple submissions (more than one submission at a time) unless it’s poetry. And then, you need to keep track of when it was submitted so if you get impatient (that would be me) you can mark on the calendar the appropriate time to send a query letter to ask about the status of your submission (querying before say 60 or 90 days can be seen as a bit of faux pas).

And then, on the off chance that your piece does get accepted some place (and after you’ve told all your friends, jumped up and down and shouted WhooHoo! to your cat or dog or kid), you need to notify any other publication where it might be out for submission to let them know it’s no longer available. Then you need to write down when it’s coming out because most of the time it will be several months after it’s accepted for publication before it sees the light of day. And THEN if this is a place that offers payment (with either free copies or money), chances are you will be paid a certain amount of time after publication. So you need know when to expect all that to pass.

And finally, even if all you received was $5 for that nifty poem, you need to record it and all of the above for the good people at the IRS, especially if you’re also recording expenses having to do with your writing.

So, yeah, keeping track of yourself can get pretty obsessive, but in the long run it’s what you need to do. And then next time you’re at a cocktail party or trying to explain to your parents how you spend your time (and possibly their money) all you need to do is bring out the spread sheet, log in to a site like Duotrope to show them your progress, or show them your list of publications that you might keep tucked in your wallet, like baby pictures, for just such occasions.

BTW – you can find my “baby pictures” on my website. For my fiction and poetry click here. Or for any other articles I’ve written, click here. ;-)

Milestones -- Or How Did I Get to the Point Where I Know Stuff?

The concept of milestones began back in during the Roman Empire. Milestone is from the Latin, millarium. They were originally stone obelisks make of marble, granite or other stone. They didn't necessarily mark off miles as we know them today, but they did mark off space. Since then, they have become a regular feature of ways to mark length of travel from one point to another (even though now they're little more than metal stakes in the ground). (Milestones). And the point of milestones is that they not only show you where you're going, but they show where you've been.

A milestone is also a term we use to refer to landmarks in our lives to mark where we've been and where we're going, or at least hope to go.

Recently, I've been thinking about milestones and progress in my own life's journey. Sometimes things hum along nicely, or it seems so, and other times it all feels stuck somehow. And sometimes, I don't realize I've felt stuck until an obstruction has been lifted and I'm able to travel along again. The milestones give me a way of gauging whether or not I've made any real progress.

This last month I felt like I'd gotten bogged down somehow and not making any progress. I was getting proofreading and copy editing work, but I hadn't been able to work on any of my fiction and poetry. I would open up files and stare at the stories and have nothing, absolutely nothing, to contribute to them. I felt stuck and frustrated and couldn't figure out how to get unstuck. I'd had a fantastic birthday and was refreshed. And then took a trip to Palm Springs where I had nothing to concern me for several days in a row other than how much time I spent at the pool and how to save the bees that liked to drown themselves in said pool. I brought my novel and short stories to work on, but again I'd open the files and stare and just draw a blank.

My best friend's mom sells Tupperware and one of the things she often says in regards to generating anything is that you can't make soup if you don't stir the pot. It's easy when things are coming in regularly to just accept them and not look any farther for work or inspiration. But even when things are going well, you need to "stir the pot" to see what's out there and draw in energy and ideas for your business and your writing. So, I started poking and prodding myself into action. I queried places where I'd sent work and had not heard back from, looked for work in various new places, renewed my WritersMarket.com subscription, and began hanging out on Duotrope.com more to research possible markets for the works in progress and poetry I'd had sitting on my hard drive for a while.

A funny thing happened. Once I got myself moving, other things got moving, too. I heard back from other work possibilities, and found markets I didn't know were available for my work. I heard back from one place that one story of mine had been accepted and another passed on. I felt energized to look at my old work and see if I could revitalize it, rework it and submit it somewhere else. One place I submitted poetry to didn't want just your average two-three sentence cover letter, they wanted as much as you could tell about mentors, degrees, awards, grants. I scoffed at that, thinking I didn't have anything to offer. Then I started working on that super-duper cover letter and realized I had more in background, had passed by more milestones, then I realized. It made me stop and ponder. It was difficult for me to grasp that I had some major milestones in my own history.

Finally, I received the questions for an interview I'm giving someone and I have yet to finish it. Every time I look at the questions I have to start over answering them, because in the middle of writing I always realize there's more to tell then I'm telling. More going on and more I've experienced than I am giving myself credit for. For years I've just thought of myself as someone who had no experience with all this, and who didn't really know stuff or know what's going on. So, seeing that I did actually have experience made for this huge, "well, huh" moment that I'm still trying to deal with, but is good because it's energizing me to get back to work on all those WIPs that have been sitting around unfinished and submissions I want to get out there.

Last night I was talking to a friend of mine. Listening to her deal with some decisions she has to make I realized I wasn't the only one who doesn't give him- or herself credit for the milestones in their lives. In a lot of ways she was still remembering herself as the student working part-time at a brewery. In the middle of figuring out her life she'd almost lost track of the fact that she was a career professional with lots to offer, and worth more than she gave herself credit for. And we started talking about how it seemed like yesterday when we thought we knew stuff, but didn't really know anything. And now here we were, and we actually know stuff.

When did we become the adults? When did we get past all these milestones to the point where we are the ones in charge? Or as another friend of mine often says, "Who's bright idea was it to make me the mom?"

It reminded me, once again, how important it is to stop and take stock of your life occasionally. And not only look at what you need to work on, but honestly assess how much you've accomplished and be glad of the mileage of your life.

Writing is hard on your health

Cross posted from Blogetary:

I never thought of writing as a dangerous pursuit or past time, unless of course you were one of those journalists who traveled the world on assignment researching things like war torn Cambodia or travel writers who were sneaking into parts of China or Turkey they weren't supposed to be. But I know some writers with serious health issues. One of them died of heart failure as he was working all night on something that had a deadline of the next morning, and another had a serious stroke while sitting at his desk working. Sometimes those issues are just there, but many times it's because of their profession. Sitting at a desk all day researching or writing is hard on your body. It's stressful. Your body likes to move. Your eyes like to watch something other than a screen a couple of feet away that's constantly moving. And always working on someone else's deadline is also a serious strain.

Of course, writers aren't the only ones who have issues from sitting at a desk all day. Anyone - any freelancer or office worker who spends hours a day at a desk, in front of a computer and even on the phone is going to experience things like back pain, eye strain and carpel tunnel syndrome. Today Yahoo put up an article on six problems that people who sit at a desk all day can experience, as well as ways to alleviate those problems.

The most obvious solution to it all is to not sit at the computer all day. It's tempting to just sit there and switch over to Facebook, or tribe.net, or whatever game site you play on and think playing on those for awhile before going back to writing is good enough. But it's not. The best thing you can do is get up, get yourself a glass of water, stretch, go for a walk, go to the gym. In the long run, you'll be more productive.

Below is the list of ailments from the article and suggested ways to alleviate them:

Carpal Tunnel Syndrome

Problem: The tingling, numbness, itching or even sharp pain caused when a nerve that runs through the forearm is compressed by swollen ligaments and bones in the wrist.
Prevention: Stretching and other exercises may help release tension in the wrist.

Lower-Back Pain

Problem: Sitting for hours on end, particularly if you have bad posture, can be devastating to your body over time if you don't get moving on a regular basis.
Prevention: Besides being better aware of your posture as you're sitting at your desk, getting regular exercise including abdominal strengthening activities should relieve some of the pressure on your lower back.

Other Joint Problems

Problem: The human body is meant to move, and staying in one position for too long can make joints feel tight.
Prevention: Besides getting up from your desk at regular intervals and walking around a bit, the Mayo Clinic recommends a number of stretches that can help loosen up your hips.

Eyestrain

Problem: Office workers who spend hours a day staring at a computer screen might tell you that after a certain amount of time, their vision gets blurry and their eyes generally become more sensitive.
Prevention: Increase your font size so you don't have to squint, suggests Microsoft (NASDAQ: MSFT - News) (though the font on this informative page might cause readers to do just that). You may also want to rest your eyes frequently by looking away from your computer screen and reducing any glare on your monitor, the Mayo Clinic suggests.

Bacteria

Problem: "The desk, in terms of bacteria, is 400 times more dirty than your toilet," University of Arizona microbiologist Dr. Charles Gerba told WebMD (NASDAQ: WBMD - News). "People turn their desks into bacteria cafeterias because they eat at them, but they never clean them. The phone is the dirtiest, the desktop is next, and the mouse and the computer follow."
Prevention: If you frequently eat your lunch at your desk, you may want to make sure you have hand sanitizer and antibacterial wipes to wipe down your work surface daily. That can also protect you from germs sprayed into the air by your coughing and sneezing coworkers.

Stressful Situations

Problem: Stress can be a problem at work regardless of how physical your day-to-day activities are, but those who do exert themselves on the job can actually use some of their activities to ease their stress. If you're chained to a desk, however, you may be even more likely to have stress-related outbursts. About 22% of U.S. workers say they've been driven to tears because of workplace stress and 9% say that stress has led to physically violent situations, reports RJC Associates, a career development firm.
Prevention: Smaller stressors can be handled with breathing and relaxation techniques at your desk or a break outside of the office, but some conflicts may call for mediation by an unbiased party. And believe it or not, video games have been suggested as a method for easing workplace stress, according to CareerBuilder.com. With the job market recovering and more companies hiring, however, it's starting to look like new job prospects could be a promising way out of stressful work conditions as well.

Trying to Figure Out What to Blog...

Cross posted from Blogetary.

Sometimes I have a hard time figuring out what to blog about and I will just ignore it for awhile because I don’t feel like I have anything worthwhile to say. I didn’t realize that many fiction writers also have this same problem. However, in the Writers Market newsletter they had an article (well, blog post) on what to blog about when (as a fiction writer) you’re not sure what to blog about. You can read it here on Jane Friedman’s There Are No Rules. One of their suggestions includes sharing interesting information or thoughts related to research or themes in what you’re working since we’re usually doing research or observing different things.

I’m never quite sure about that. I feel like I’m jinxing something if I write or talk about what I’m working on too much, or what feels like too much. But as Friedman points out, this is one way for a writer to build their platform. And it helps draw people in if they know the type of stuff you’re working on.

Why do you read?

A lot of writers talk about why they write. In fact, there are some pretty famous writers who've got some good quotes on the topic:

W. Somerset Maugham (1874 - 1965): We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to.

Isaac Asimov (1920 - 1992): I write for the same reason I breathe – because if I didn't, I would die.

F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896 - 1940): Writers aren't exactly people... they're a whole lot of people trying to be one person.

Why a writer writes is a common and varied topic that could be bandied about at length just about anywhere. In fact, next time you're in a writers group and you're not sure what to talk about, just ask everyone why they write. You won't get anyone to shut up!

But another question that needs be asked that probably supersedes why a writer writes is why do they read? Many writers (and others who are avid readers) remember the first book that made them fall in love with reading. They remember the books that changed their lives or the ones that they have reread every year for the last 5, 10, 20 years. And it's this love affair with reading and books that first kick started a lot of writers writing.

I was thinking about this the other day when a friend of mine and I were talking about the books we read. We both read a lot. He prefers nonfiction such as biographies, history, inspirational and self-help books. I prefer fiction, heavy on the genre, and a little lyrical poetry and humor thrown in. We both read a lot, but for different reasons. I read to escape (obviously) and he reads to connect. Yet, as different as our reading material is, we can connect with each other and other readers on what we have learned from our reading. As readers, we will always have that desire to go back to searching for yet another great book that could change our life for the better, or give us insight into a part of ourselves that we have yet to understand, or to inspire us to try hard to be better at our music, art, writing, business, teaching or ... what-have-you.

You don't find that kind of satisfying read on the internet, at least not in 140 word bits about life's insipid details. You only find that type of satisfaction in a piece of art; words strung together in a thoughtful, meaningful manner.

It could be in a paperback at the beach, a hardback from the library, an ebook on your ereader, or a downloaded audio book from iTunes or Audible.com. It's still a book. You, despite your busy days and other demands on your life want nothing better than to read that book. Whatever the case, and whether it's to connect more with the world, learn more about it, or escape from it, you just know that you have to read that book.

But, next time you're in meta-type, philosophizing mood, ask yourself, why do you read?

Meme for Writers!

I got this from Razored Zen. He posted it when I was out of it, cyber wise, so I'm a little behind; let's see if I can catch up.

Your genre(s): Well, I've written poetry (both scifi and non), short stories, fantasy, science fiction, horror-ish stuff, romance, and erotica, and some subgenres in there as well, like folk tales, animal tales, children's, paranormal romance, and maybe urban fantasy. I've always wanted to try murder mystery as well. I might try that in the future some time. But I'd have to be a really good plotter then.

How many books are you working on now: Hmm....I have lots of started things that I put away to work on other things. I have one book that is basically 4 novellas (one about each girl in a band). I have one fantasy I'm currently revising. Then I have a bunch of short stories. AND there's this chick lit idea I've been kicking around for a long time that will probably never get written, but it's fun to toy with.

Are you a linear or chunk writer: I do it both ways. Which ever way the writing decides to come. Sometimes a scene comes to me and I have no idea where it's going to end up; I just grab a pen and try to get it down and then put it aside until the right moment comes along to insert it. And there usually is a right place, though sometimes it just ends up being backstory that I have as material on the character.

The POV you’re partial to: Whatever tells the story best. Sometimes it's first and sometimes third. Sometimes limited third and sometimes omniscient third. I have no idea where this prejudice against omniscient 3rd person came from. It's a method, like any other method. Lots of celebrated authors used it, so I see no reason why I shouldn't if it tells the story best. I suspect a little bit of "literachur's" snooty "standards" have snuck into genre writing. And I've heard writers debate for hours over the correct POV to write in and have been told by editors I have too many POVs trying to tell the story.

Well, if it's a big story, it needs a lot of different POVs to tell the story from! Like I said, whatever works best for that story. We really do more harm than good when we try to put so many rules on our own craft instead of just working on it.

The Tense you use: I guess past, mostly. I could see the effect present first would have on a story, but I haven't yet written a story that needed that.

The theme that keeps cropping up in your books: God, the universe, trying to think outside the box, what you see isn't always what you get, don't assume, kids without dads or responsible parents, having to grow into your calling in life, don't wait for prince charming, parents trying to make things up to their kids, the magic that we forget to see even though it's all around us....I guess there's a lot I like to write about.

How many days a week do you write: Fiction writing or other writing? I work with words every day. Sometimes as a proofreader/copy editor, sometimes as a fiction/poetry writer, sometimes as a reviewer/article writer. I try to do something every day, even if it's just writing in my journal or penning a poem that hits me on the bus. This is what I am.

I used to play the violin as a kid and I remember I was supposed to practice 15-30 minutes a day. I would put it off and then try to practice 2 hours the day before my lesson. My instructor could always tell. I never got around to practicing my violin everyday, though I still have my violin. I did enjoy playing it and still do sometimes, but I wasn't supposed to be a violinist. I was supposed to be a writer. And if I am really serious about this then it's something I need to try to do every single day.

What time of day do you get your best writing done: Either early in the morning (which almost never happens anymore), or from 3 pm on. I tend to do a lot business writing and job/gig searching in between.

Who are your mentors: I've never been able to find an actual mentor. That would have been nice. There are some people I've known I would have liked to have had as mentors, but they weren't that interested in me as a writer and had others they were interested in. So, I guess I'm like Charles, most of my mentors have been books. When I was a tween/teen I was fanatical about finding female role models to live up to. They were: Joan of Arc, Helen Keller, Edith Cavell, Florence Nightengale, Louisa May Alcott, Laura Ingalls Wilder, LM Montgomery, and Marie Curie. If Marie Curie could subsist on radishes in the middle of winter whilst studying at the Sorbonne and working at a lab job, then by golly by gum, I could do it, too. If LM Alcott could write after cleaning houses all day, then so could I.

Other "mentors" of mine include CS Lewis, JRR Tolkein, and Charles Williams. They were willing to research to the nth degree to get to the heart of something. And Charles Williams wasn't afraid of writing about, what to Christians would be considered, taboo subjects.

My favorite authors to read: Including the people above plus, H. P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allen Poe, Andre Norton, Patricia A. McKillip, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Rachel Vincent, Vicki Pettersson, Leigh Purtill, Stephanie Rowe, Lilith Saintcrow, Simon R. Green, Charlotte McLeod, Dorothy Sayers, Margery Allingham, O. Henry, Damon Knight, Georges Simenon, and lots of others.