The End of the Year as We Know It

And I feel fine.

I feel totally fine with saying goodbye to 2013.

It’s been a year of transition for me. I went into it with a lot of momentum—finishing and polishing another novel, writing four short stories, one anthology sale, two workshops, a Worldcon, a new crit group, and making handful of new writing friends. In fact, all told, that’s just the first half of 2013.

The rest of this year, I’ve been sidelined dealing with a family member’s illness. Productivity came to a screeching halt, writing time evaporated, and all that momentum has turned into regret at what-could-have-beens.

So yeah. Don’t let the door hit you on your way out, 2013. I’ve got my eye on the horizon and what 2014 will bring. It’s going to be good. I can feel it.

Image by Amodiovalerio Verde of Flickr

What to expect next January? Well, more natterings on about my writing process, some subtle changes to the blog, maybe even some good news. A girl can hope!

In the meantime, whatever you celebrate, have a wonderful next few weeks and a happy New Year!

A Time for Thanks

Regardless of what you believe or how you choose to celebrate, taking a moment once a year to take stock and say thanks is a wonderful thing. And after spending the last few months caring for a sick family member, it’s a good time for me to reflect on the wonderful things in my life.

I’m thankful for…

1) All the projects I’ve been able to draft, revise, and complete (in some cases all three!) especially since my writing time of late has been drastically reduced. I’ve started or completed five short stories, and tinkered with a few more that haven’t found homes. My short stories routinely make it to the second round at markets, which has built up my confidence in my work even though it doesn’t always translate into sales.

2) The fact my story “Resonance” found a home in The Future Embodied anthology. Should be out sometime next year, and I can’t wait!

3) My growing community of writers. I went to Worldcon this year and was thrilled to catch up with some of my friends from Taos Toolbox and meet new ones. I also just got back from Paradise Icon, a neo-pro writing workshop in Cedar Rapids (which you can read more about here), where I met more talented writers. The workshop was a great break from my caregiving obligations and provided me with some much-needed inspiration. If you are looking to expand your own community of writers, applications to the 2014 Taos Toolbox workshop open December 1st.

Image courtesy of hotblack of the Morgue File.          

4) That my latest novel project will be in this year’s Baker’s Dozen Auction on the Miss Snark’s First Victim’s blog. Cross your fingers for me and see if you can guess which entry is mine!

5) My husband for supporting me in everything I do.

 Image courtesy of menstatic of the Morgue File.

What are you thankful for this year? Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Humble Pie

With the exception of certain universal life experiences, no other process has been quite as humbling as learning how to write well.

Knowledge is proud that it knows so much; wisdom is humble that it knows no more. William Cowper

For one thing, everyone thinks they’re an expert on writing, by virtue of the high literacy rates in our society and the sophisticated narratives that populate our entertainment, our news, even our interactions with one another. Add to this the critique process that is often necessary to strengthen a writer’s craft and their work—a necessary evil but one that often shakes the resolve of many beginning writers (as well as those at every stage of their career).

Image courtesy of Jaypeg on Flickr

Criticism can be brutal, confusing, and sometimes even helpful, but I believe only a humble writer can learn something from it. You have to be open to the process, and that means you need to set your ego aside.

Then there’s the whole rejection thing, and how you’ll probably accumulate dozens or more rejections for every acceptance you get.

Success is not a good teacher, failure makes you humble. Shahrukh Khan

I’ve wrestled before with the idea of the arrogant writer, and still believe that writers are guided by the hope that our words have meaning rather than the expectation that they do simply because they've been recorded. 

I've never had a humble opinion. If you've got an opinion, why be humble about it? Joan Baez 

After all, our first amendment right to write is a privilege not every one in this world enjoys. To have the time to indulge in writing is another privilege not everyone has.

I know that writing has humbled me. Not only in what I do and do not know, but also in the knowledge that the odds are so very great. Each and every time someone further along in their career takes a moment to reach out to me, I am humbled.

Am I alone in feeling this way? What is it about writing that has made you humble?

How to Survive Your First Worldcon, Part One

Over Labor Day weekend, I attended my first Worldcon in San Antonio, Texas. I decided to go for a lot of reasons, but I think the most important one was to slowly increase my visibility in the field by networking with my writing colleagues.

The view from my hotel balcony.

I had no idea what to expect, and I’d like to share what I’ve learned so you’ll be better prepared if you plan to attend an event like this in the future.

1. Never Take Off Your Nametag

This could be my own issue, but I’ve never been a fan of nametags. Whether it was the first day of school, my work as a waitress back in the day, or attending work conferences, my initial impulse was always to whip off the tag as soon as possible.

Do not do this. The whole point of conventions is to meet like-minded people, right? But unless you already know someone’s a writer, it can be tough to spot one out in the wild. At a convention, if you see a nametag, you can be reasonably sure they’re a serious SFF fan or writer or both, whether you are crossing the street between the hotel and the conference space, hunkering down in the hotel lobby for the free internet, or getting a drink or a bite to eat in the hotel lounge. So this is one of the few times where it’s okay to let your freak flag fly.

The nametag also makes introductions easier and seeing a printed name (as opposed to just hearing it) can reinforce retention.

That said….

2. Be Prepared to Reintroduce Yourself A Lot

You will be meeting a lot of people. And just as you will have difficulty keeping everyone straight, the people you meet will also have trouble putting the name to the face. If they don’t remember you, don’t take it personally. Be gracious, and if the opportunity presents itself, remind them that you met them the night before at a party or last year at another event or that you share a TOC together… whatever it is that will help jog their memory and put you into context.

 

You want them to remember your face, your name, and something pleasant about you—not how you gave them a hard time for not remembering who you are from a 15-second introduction. That just makes them feel guilty, and they will then avoid you to avoid experiencing that negative emotion again.

3. Dress to Impress

I’m not talking business casual. Personal hygiene is important to handle (especially in Texas in August). As Mary Robinette Kowal said in a panel on schmoozing, you want to be the best possible version of yourself—whatever that means to you.

For me, that meant wearing clothes that had a consistent feel, styling my hair in a similar way, and wearing the same necklace and bracelet combo across the days at the convention so that people would recognize me, even if they didn’t know my name. Think of it as professional branding.

  

4. Ribbons Ribbons Everywhere

As this was my first con, I didn’t realize there were special “ribbons” you could affix to your nametag. These little pieces of fabric were issued to people who had pub’d in certain magazines or talked to certain con personnel or supported a particular author or whatever. I later found out there was even a ribbon for attending your first Worldcon. Many people (though not everyone) had them. I even saw one kid walking around the convention hall with so many ribbons they dragged along after him.

As with the nametags, the ribbons provide quick visual reinforcement in identifying people in your “tribe” and often served as a source of small talk. Now, I’m not saying I was ignored because I didn’t have any ribbons—I wasn’t. But it did reinforce my newbie status because I had no idea how they worked.

The exception of course were the bright green ribbons identifying the panelists and invited guests to the convention. Which leads me to….

5. Pay Attention to the Social Hierarchy

At the con, I was pretty insignificant compared to the writers further along in their careers and the editors and agents that were there. And the ribbons often reinforced this.

Unlike other cons, there were no pitch appointments offered. The only way to get an agent or editor’s attention was to either get introduced by someone they respected or small talk your way into their hearts.

Both are hard to do and are extremely dependent on luck, your social abilities, and the kindness of your colleagues.

People can sense desperation. If someone powerful has a bad opinion of you, it could haunt you the rest of your career. So don’t be that person who stalks the important people all over the con or the person who turns into a squeeing mess the second you get to talk to your writing hero, dream agent, or whathaveyou.

Instead, be sure to act courteously, and if at all possible be interesting. You may not get an opportunity to talk about you or your work, and that’s okay. Take the long view. You want to leave people with a favorable impression no matter what because who knows what could happen the next time you meet them.

Stay tuned for Part Two next week!

Getting to "The End"

I’ve been swamped recently; hence, the blog silence last week. Part of it is I’m gearing up for another spate of travel. Part of it is juggling all the writing projects I have in the air, including getting to The End on my latest WIP.

How do you define “The End” ?

-When you first figure out the end of your story?

-When you finish that first draft?

-Or when you’ve polished until you can’t polish anymore?

For me, it’s the third option. I’ve sent this novel out to trusted readers once already. And I’m on the very last chapter in terms of implementing the changes that were raised in that round of criticism. As I gear up to send it out to another batch of readers, I’m feeling optimistic and impatient and a little nervous all that the same time.

And I realized I’ve felt different each time I’ve come to the end of a novel-length project (short stories are different in my experience).

My reactions have varied, from insecurity and nervousness (What if it’s not good enough?) to impatience (I just want to finish this story already) to relief and pride in a job well done. And in some cases, disappointment that the book didn’t measure up to what was in my head and I don’t know how to fix that.

But with this story, I’m feeling cautiously optimistic. I’ve felt that way before of course, and to some extent, I think you need to feel that way about all your work at this stage to stay motivated, to keep pushing yourself, and to see things through the publishing process.

So, I’m very happy with what I’ve accomplished with the story. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to call it a day. My work is just beginning. I just hope I have the stomach for it.

Happy writing!

Invisibility of Progress

Improvements in writing ability are often hard to detect. So much of what is “good” is contextual—dictated by a particular project, the audience you’re writing for, or even market trends.

I’ve talked before about How Do You Know if you are ready for publication. Although it’s related, that’s not exactly what I want to talk about today.

Instead I want to focus on all the invisible things writers do in the hopes of bettering their craft, expanding their professional network, and positioning themselves for success to the best of their ability.

Image courtesy of Penywise of Morgue Files

Objective measures of success in this field are pretty self-explanatory. You’re either published or you're not (however you choose to define it). When you’re “not” published, chances are you’re doing a bunch of things other than writing in the hopes they will pay off in some small way in the future.

For example, I haven’t sold any short stories since last fall. If you are looking at my output objectively—well, there isn’t any by that definition. Instead, so much of what I’m doing these days is invisible. And I’m still trying to figure out what that means.

These invisible activities include:

Reading slush for Masque Books – Beyond occasional mentions here on the blog, it’s something I do to strengthen my ability to evaluate projects, diagnose writing problems, and gain insights into the editorial process. I won’t be able to learn these things overnight—this requires a commitment of months if not years to see the benefit from this type of activity.

Joining an invitation-only critique group – The meetings are intense and panic-inducing. I’m learning tons, making good connections, but as with any critique group, feedback is only as good as the projects I bring to them. Workshopping novels (and short stories to a lesser extent) can be a long process outside of development time.

Submitting to higher-tier markets – I have three in rotation right now that I truly believe in. And I’ve been aiming high. My sales last year gave me the confidence to target higher-tier markets. Personal rejections? Check. Second-round bumps? Check. Agonizing ‘You just missed the cut’ notices? Oh yeah. And the worst part is, all this means longer response times.

When non-writers ask me about my writing these days, it’s hard to explain how all these invisible activities fill up my time and contribute to my work. But they do mean something. They are valuable. They just go largely unseen because they don’t conform to objective measures of success.

I just have to believe they’ll add up to something that cannot be ignored one day.

What aspect of your writing life is invisible?

The Fragility of the Everyday

Last Friday, a regular collapsed in the coffee shop I frequent a couple of times a week.

He sat at his table with his newspaper like usual, and I sat where I normally do if I can—an armchair by the wall tucked out of the way. I had a section of my latest novel project printed out, and I was furiously scribbling away in the margins. It was going to be a good writing day, I could feel it.

That’s when the man collapsed out of his chair and onto the floor. Not an I’ve-fallen-and-can’t-get-up fall, but something worse.

The shop went eerily silent for a second, then I sprung to my feet along with some of the other customers. More seconds burned by as we hovered in a circle around the man in a what-do-we-do stupor. But he wasn’t moving, and he wasn’t conscious.

I tried to use mental telepathy on the barista behind the counter. What should we do? What happens next? Why isn’t anyone calling 911? The barista has the presence of mind to take a sandwich off the grill before getting the manager. For some reason, this impressed me.

If felt like an eternity—though again, it was just seconds—when a strong voice announced: “Everyone, stay calm. I’m a paramedic. If could have a volunteer pair of hands?”

Turns out an off-duty paramedic decided to come to the coffee shop that day, thank goodness. Two people who weren’t me snapped to attention and helped him get the old man into a sitting position to evaluate his condition.

Meanwhile I was shaking. I gathered up my printouts that were scattered all over the floor and collapsed back in my seat. I am no stranger to sickbeds. I’ve had more than my share of death and dying, but still my palms were sweaty and my heart raced as the paramedic and his volunteers tried to get the man to respond to his questions.

It was touch and go for ten minutes. Ten minutes of me thinking this man is going to die here, in this coffee shop, and I will never be able to work here again. Even as these thoughts went through me, I was sickened that that’s all I cared about. Better than thinking about the last time I was in a hospital with a loved one. But still. This was someone I “knew,” someone linked to the fabric of my daily life.

Thankfully, the man came out of it—there was talk it was a stroke, a “cardiac event,” or even a bad reaction to his medicine, but they didn’t know for sure. An ambulance came along with a team of paramedics who were on the clock, and they bundled the man onto a gurney and took him to the ER.

All told, about an hour-long saga where I and the other customers were trapped in the coffee shop as the man was seen to. I just sat there and stared down blindly at my printouts, feeling guilty and scared and upset all for a stranger. Needless to say, I didn't write that day.

He wasn’t there when I went to the coffee shop on Tuesday, and I didn’t ask the baristas if they knew anything. 

I just hope the next time I go, he’ll be there, at his table with his paper, and I’ll be in my chair, with my printouts, and all will be right in the world.

How is it May Already?

Seems like I was just getting used to typing “2013” and now I have to mentally remind myself it is already May. As in four months have expired since the start of the year, and I’m in a constant state of playing catch-up.

And the hell of it is, there are things coming up in my life that will make that even more difficult for me.

Make no mistake, I want to be that person who is always unruffled by change with a plan for every contingency. But the last year or so, I’ve found it harder to keep my writing life from affecting (or is it infecting) the rest of my life.

I used to aim to do something writing-related every day, whether that was actually writing or engaging in pre-writing activities like reading and researching, or more platform-building stuff like this blog post. And that was great.

But now the workload feels heavier. I’ve talked before about my critique responsibilities increasing (becoming a slush reader, joining a new writing group), and I’m still convinced critiquing is one of the best ways to improve your craft. However, I’d say my writing output has also increased, which puts even more demands on my time.

Last month I finished up a novel draft. I realized I had written it over the course of six months. That’s a huge productivity jump for me. It’s not fully polished since I’m currently scrambling to get it in shape for my trusted readers, but still, that’s a lot of words for me, on top of revisions, short story drafts, and all the other writing “stuff” that creeps up on you.

And I know this is only a fraction of what more successful writers face. It can only get busier for me. I’m not sure how I feel about that. But if we could go back to January again, I’d be all over that.

How are things going for you? Have you been surviving 2013?

 

Happy writing!

Push or Pull

What kind of writer are you? Someone who needs to be pushed to write? Or someone who would write no matter what, putting themselves out there, pulling themselves up by their bootstraps?

I’ve been both at different stages.

When you need a push to write:

To take the plunge—Maybe you had a teacher who inspired you, or a partner or family member who encouraged you to write. Or maybe you read something that was so amazing you wanted to write too. In any case, someone or something pushed you into the writing world.

To follow through—But writing can be a fickle process. Sometimes we get in funks where we can’t write or lose our confidence in our abilities. That’s when a nudge from a writing friend or taking steps to reinvigorate your creativity helps you keep going when the going gets tough.

To do what’s required—We can all hope we reach the point where contractual obligations and deadlines serve as the push to keep us writing.

When writing pulls you in:

Because you have a story to tell—Often we discover our love of writing because we have a story to tell, something that can only be expressed in words. And by taking that first step, you discover you have even more to say.

Because you’ve found your rhythm—Some days the writing comes easy. Those are good days, and they are earned because you’ve built up momentum in your story. Developing a writing routine can also help by giving your brain a set time when the words can pour forth.

Because you have goals you want to reach—And the only way to reach them is to keep writing. Sometimes that’s the only inspiration you need.

***

So at the end of the day, is your writing pulling you or pushing you?

Collaborative Writing

Over the last few months, I’ve participated in a collaborative writing project with two of my writing friends.

It’s something I was initially hesitant doing. For one, the project is in a genre I don’t normally write in. For another, I wasn’t confident our writing styles would mesh. Plus, the time I spent on the project would inevitably take time away from my own work.

But I did it anyway, and as we’re polishing the initial draft, I can say it was largely a success. How did we keep it from devolving into a game of tug-of war?

Well, for starters, my emotional investment in this project was much lower to begin with. After all, I had to share this story with two other people. So my level of engagement was more in line with the collaborative writing I did in academia—I had a professional desire to get things done and do them well, but I was more than happy to put it aside at the end of the day. In other words, I viewed this as a job or an assignment, not my “art” (whatever that means).

That also meant I was accountable to the other writers I was working with. Excuses that I sometimes use to get out of working on my own projects didn’t fly in this case because I had two other people counting on me to write my portions of the story.

That level of detachment did make it harder to engage with the material initially, but as we got further along into the story, that became less of an issue. The detachment also meant I was also more open to compromise as we discussed the overall story arc and decided on character traits and plot points.

We also stuck to a schedule. We met every two weeks while drafting the story. We started with an initial brainstorming session where we roughed out the plot. Then we would assign each other scenes to write. We would exchange those scenes before the next session, review them, and make big-picture adjustments at the next meeting. Then the process would start all over again. The result was a full draft in less than four months.

It also helped that each writer was assigned a specific POV character, so we didn’t have to worry about handing off that character to someone else and the continuity issues that would stem from that.

Would I do it again? It depends. I learned a lot about my writing through this process and exposed myself to the drafting techniques of other writhers. And it's encouraging to know that such collaborations can be successful—provided there’s a good mesh of working styles. Plus it was a lot of fun too.

Doing it again would necessitate a time commitment I’m not eager to make at this stage right now. That doesn’t mean some future project won’t be worth the effort.

So if you are contemplating a collaborative writing project, here are a few things to keep in mind:

Find writers you trust.

This means you trust their creative instincts, you trust their ability to do the work, and (it has to be said) you trust they won’t dick you over in the end. It helps that I’ve known the two women I worked with for over a year through our local writing group. Not everyone starting a collaboration will have this option, but the point is to vet the other writers the best you can and go with your gut.

Treat it as a professional obligation.

This means you (and the other writers) need to be accountable to one another. Make goals, stick to a production schedule, brainstorm together—but remember to build in enough leeway so that you can help each other if the going gets tough. Respect each other’s work and each other’s time. Couch story development negotiations in terms of craft and structure, not you own selfish desires for how the story should turn out. There’s no ‘I’ in ‘team’ and all that.

Remember that this is a learning opportunity.

Collaboration is a useful skill to have in your toolbox. It’s also a rare one, because of the difficulties inherent in any collaboration. Use this time as chance to look under the hood at someone else’s writing process—you may glean a few nuggets of wisdom for your own writing. You may also surprise yourself at what you are capable of in the right set of circumstances.

Check out On the Art of Collaboration in Writing from Magical Words and Amie Kaufman’s Three Rules You Can’t Break for more insights into collaborative writing.

What To Do When Writing Gets You Down

Writing is hard. Once you think you have the basics of craft down, you then have to deal with constant rejection, wait times that never get shorter, and the insecurities that pop up at least once a day.

But it’s important to remember that it’s okay if you can’t always put on a happy face day in and day out. Writing is work. There will be not-so-good days. The trick is being able to move past the bad and stay productive.

First, Give Yourself Permission to Feel Awful…

...Then Move On

If you can do this, the rest of this post is superfluous. Seriously though, you knew that writing would be tough when you first started out, and it doesn’t get any easier later on. But something in you had to keep writing anyway. And that spark is essential for dealing with the inevitable bumps in the road. It’s natural to feel disappointment at times; just remember why you started writing in the first place.

Distract Yourself with Something New/Different/Comforting

Break out the chocolate, if you must. Your favorite food or adult beverage—in moderation, please. Watch a movie, take a walk, try something new. These are all good strategies to distract you from whatever’s bothering you (a string of rejections, a story that just won’t work, whatever). Take a break even. Read something in a different genre from what you’re trying to write in. Artist dates are also a great distraction from whatever has you down—and also feed into your creative mindset too.

Analyze Why You’re Upset…

...Then Harness The Emotional Impulse Behind It

This requires distance. It can also force you to confront things about yourself you may not like. After all, things like shame, anger, and jealousy aren’t exactly a barrel of laughs.

Do you feel ashamed after a rough critique of your work? Anger over a rejection you thought was a slam-dunk? Jealousy over the success of another writer? Try to pinpoint why you feel that way.

For me at least, I feel ashamed when someone calls me out on something in a critique that I consciously or unconsciously know is an issue in my story. This tells me I need to listen to my gut, that nagging voice in my head that says you need to fix this.

Anger, I’ve come to realize, is going to be a part of the writing process for me. Maybe you’re wired differently. Each rejection I receive makes me angry in some way, even if I can see a story’s flaws in hindsight. But I try to funnel that anger—that energy—into the next piece I write. The one that will succeed where the last one failed. Just remember that you are writing out of anger, which can require adjustments once you’ve had a chance to cool down.

Jealousy is a tough one, and people more qualified than me have discussed it elsewhere (see Everyone Gets Jealous, Even Published Authors, Pros and Cons to Comparing Yourself to Other Writers, and A Writer's Antidote for Envy). Just remember that writing is not a competition, even though it can seem that way. If you don’t like what you’ve achieved so far, work to change that—start a new project or use a new strategy to get your work out there. Find a positive way to achieve your definition of success.

Don’t Forget To Celebrate What You’ve Accomplished So Far

It’s so easy to get tunnel vision and forget where you came from. You know, back when you couldn’t write your way out of a scene? Don’t forget to take time to look back at what you’ve accomplished. Writing is one of those fields where visible successes (like story sales and book deals) are few and far between.

So you need to unearth those smaller, less visible successes—the ones that demonstrate how seriously you take your writing and how it’s impacted others. Things like joining a crit group, a compliment from a writing colleague, a blog post that made an impact, a completed story draft. These are not insignificant successes, and they should be acknowledged as such. I had the illustration for my story in the Memory Eater anthology framed and hung in my office, not only because it’s the first of my stories to receive its own illustration, but also because it’s a constant reminder of what I’m working for.

***
So if you are feeling down, I hope you’ve found some strategies to feel better about your writing. What’s helped you beat the blues?

Arrogance vs Hope – The Writer’s Mindset

Back in December, the Guide to Literary Agents blog ran a post called “The Importance of Being (Slightly) Arrogant as a Writer”. I knew there was a good chance the article would piss me off, but I clicked on it anyway.

Here’s the meat of the post:

If you’re trucking away at a novel or short story that you dream of getting published, that implies:

(a) You think your work is good enough to merit publication (meaning, it’s comparable to or better than what’s out there, and it will rise above all other competition).

(b) You believe that other people will enjoy and find value in reading what you write.

That right there, is arrogance at its two-part core — an attitude of superiority manifested in presumptuous assumptions.

Here’s where the second part comes in: This is a GOOD thing. This arrogance is critical to your eventual success!

Now, I get what the author was trying to do here: pointing out the writerly tendency to think your work is better than it really is, which is supposed to help you persevere when the going gets tough.

But the article still made me very very cranky.

And I had to ask myself why it irritated me so much. After all, I do think I write better than the majority of people out there. But is that arrogance or simply recognition of my abilities? I’ve worked hard, as I’m sure everyone reading this has, to become the writer I am today.

To say that I’m being arrogant when I work on a project with the goal of publication is too simplistic, and frankly a bit insulting.

I go into every project with the hope that it will be published one day. That’s a big distinction. And it is that hope that keeps me going.

Arrogance implies that I’m owed publication, when really you have to earn it. And that’s what I’m doing every time I sit down to write. I'm trying to earn it.

Maybe I’m making mountains out of molehills here. Are we arrogant for trying to get published? Simply blinded by hope? Or just crazy?

Whatever it is, keep writing. That’s the only advice I’ll get behind.

Rebuilding Momentum

I’ve been a bit of a slacker lately. At least as far as my blog goes. I haven’t been able to post for the last couple of weeks. In fact this place would be a ghost town if I didn’t have comments from spammers to keep me company. Thanks, guys. Or, umm, bots.

But although the blog may not show it, I’ve been rather busy this last couple of months. Lots of writing going on, and there’s also been an uptick in my critiquing responsibilities. Then I had family in town for Thanksgiving. I basically spent the week before the holiday cooking and cleaning like a madwoman and the week of trying to stay sane. I survived, but just barely.

And now? Now, it’s back to the writing routine and my much-abused blog. I’ll be dusting off the cobwebs so to speak these coming weeks, so please bear with me.

In the meantime, here are some helpful links to help you stay productive:

• Necessary Tasks Doesn’t Mean Productive Ones by the Daring Novelist
• When Bad Things Happen to Productive People from 99u
• 10 Tips for a Productive Writing Day by the Blood Red Pencil
• How to be Productive and Still Get 8 Hours Sleep from Work Awesome
• Adapting your writing routine for the holidays and, in a related way, kids’ summer vacations,  both by Elizabeth Spann Craig

Happy writing, and see you next Wednesday!

Nano Fail

So I’m not doing NaNoWriMo this year. I can hear your collective gasps.

I am very aware of all the benefits to participating in National Novel Writing Month: the motivation to get words down, the camaraderie of knowing you and all your best writing buds are typing away, the assurance that it’s ok if your draft sucks since that’s what first drafts are for.

But the guilt of not making daily quotas and the inevitable burnout that always results from going full tilt don’t appeal to me, especially given the timing for me this year.

Word Count Guilt

For the past two years, I’ve participated in Nano. I’ve never “won,” but logged 20k the first year, closer to 30 the second. And I considered those victories. But the 1,700 words a day wasn’t sustainable. At least for me.

On a good day 2k is about my limit. On a really good day, 3.5k is possible. But that usually means I’m way over-caffeinated, my hand aches from writing so much, and my legs have fallen asleep from sitting so long. Not exactly the balance I seek in my writing life.

After a big writing day, I usually take a break. But during Nano, the pressure to “catch up” takes over. And while it might be good to understand just how far you can push yourself, to motivate you in the future, you eventually have to worry about…

Burnout

We’ve all heard the horror stories, related to Nano and other publishing deadlines. Burnout’s no fun. It can leave your brain a pile of goo and have you questioning your resolve. And as far as I’m concerned, anything that makes you doubt your decision to write is not a good thing.

Plus, with the projects I’m working on, the goals I want to reach with them, I really can’t afford the time off to manage burnout symptoms.  Besides, I believe you should be focused on writing everyday, not just once a year, as outlined in the NaNoWriMo No post from Writer Unboxed. Slow and steady, wins the race… (at least I hope!)

Timing

Despite my (lack of) progress in Nano’s past, I have used November as a good time to jumpstart a new project or restructure an old one. But this fall, I started another project, wrote a skeletal draft, and am now fine-tuning things. The WIP is not in typical Nano shape, and I’m in too deep to consider starting one that is. So the timing just didn’t work out this year. For me.

That doesn’t mean NaNoWriMo isn’t a worthy goal for those of you forging on. But I’m sitting this one out, and hopefully I’ll be able to join in next year!

Happy writing!

How Do You Critique?

The last couple of weeks (and maybe into the next) I’ve been buried in critiques. Hence this slightly delayed post. I’m not complaining, mind you, but the volume recently—the result a confluence of chance—has forced me to evaluate my process in between all my edits, insertions, and comments.

Some observations:

I read everything. For me, critiquing is less about the genre or subject matter and more about supporting the writer behind the project.

I firmly believe there is a level of trust required for exchanging work. And that mutual respect means doing my best to evaluate the work I agree to critique, regardless of what it is, as I would hope others would do for me. It’s too early for me to be trapped in a particular genre, and I’m always eternally grateful that my CPs and trusted readers are usually game to crit whatever I send their way.

Part of this is because I’ve spent a lot of time in non-genre specific writing groups. In fact, one of the more successful groups I’ve been a part of has members writing in completely different genres—poetry, alt lit, women’s fiction, and then there’s me. All of us have good bs detectors and strong writing chops, which definitely helps. Plus having this exposure also keeps me from getting tunnel vision from the particular genre/style I’m writing in.

If a fellow writer thinks they’ll benefit from an honest reader reaction from me, I’m happy to support them. Karma is important, and I know I've benefited from the writer connections I've made. That’s not to say if they hand me a mystery I’ll be thrilled. But I’ll do my best to critique it, with the caveat that I’m not as well-versed in this genre as I am others.

I usually have to read a piece twice before I’m ready to critique.

This is time consuming, yes. That has become abundantly clear these last couple of weeks. BUT, it’s something I’ve made peace with. Mostly because my own standards of quality demand it.

Reading the piece the first time, I’m trying to get a general feel for the story, understand how all the different elements work as a whole. I might make some copy edits in the first round, but really I’m just reading for story.

This is a tremendous help when it comes time to offer my comments on the second pass. That’s when I decide what are real issues that need to be dealt with to support an author’s story intentions. I believe I have to understand the macro story elements into order to comment on the micro-level ones (outside of grammar).

My critique style has evolved as I’ve taken strides with my craft.

What this essentially means is that early on, I was overly focused with style and micro level issues. If someone wrote a line in a way I wouldn’t, I’d offer my suggestions for changing it. I was also overly concerned with "the rules" and more than happy to say "You're doing it wrong!" because the craft books said so. I won't say I was a Craft Nazi, one of the Writerly Types to Avoid, but it took time for me to digest all that advice so I could apply it in more constructive ways.

But after a number of critiques, after reading a variety of work, I’ve been exposed to a lot of different ways of doing things. And I've realized with all the do's and don'ts out there, all that matters is whether a particular technique is effective in a particular story context. That's it.

So I’ve adopted a more flexible live and let live policy. I’ll still point out awkward phrasings or unsuccessful techniques, but I’ve come to realize that just because someone doesn’t write something exactly the way I would doesn’t make it wrong. It just makes it different, and that’s ok. And that frees up more of my mental space for addressing more substantive story issues.

I rarely say no to requests to exchange work, but the time may be nigh to change that.

For so long, I was too scared to share my work. Then, when I got less scared, I had trouble finding people to share it with. I talked about this progression in my post The Critique Mindset a while back.

Over time, I’ve collected a formidable group of trusted writer friends: local writers, online writers, and my writer colleagues from Taos. For every person I can rely on for critiques, they must be able to rely on me. And as the last weeks have shown me, I’m near my limit, if I still want to be producing my own work at a pace that doesn’t make me cranky. (Hint, I'm cranky this week.)

So while I’m a huge proponent for exchanging work for critique, all things in moderation. And maybe it’s time to take my own advice.

***

Happy Nanoing for those participating! Happy writing for the rest of us! And only good thoughts for our friends on the east coast!

Power of Story

I had a very productive writing session at the coffee shop yesterday. It was a nice day so I was able to ride my bike there—a good way to prime the mind. After settling in with my java, I wrote for about three hours. A new WIP. I’m still in the early this-story-is-awesome stage, where the words just pour forth. Always a great feeling.

Towards the middle of my session, after the noonday rush had emptied out and there were just a handful of people left in the café, a woman approached me and said, “Look at you! Still working so hard. What are you studying?”

I kinda blinked up at her in confusion and said I was writing. I was so in the zone I couldn’t come up with anything else. After some awkward chitchat (I write fiction, yes I’m published, no you won’t find my name on a book’s cover) she went back to her table where she was studying for some kind of exam, nursing I think. She was very sweet, but I was unprepared for her questions and felt like an idiot talking to her.

This incident taught me a few things.

1. I can apparently still pass for a college student.
2. People project themselves onto others all the time. Because she was a young woman at a coffee shop studying, I must be too.
3. Your average person equates writers to (printed) books. When I explained I had a couple short stories published, she got a confused look on her face then smiled politely and said “Oh.”
4. Writing could be seen as a study of the human condition, of ourselves and the world around us, negotiated on the page.

I still got another hour of work done after our talk. That’s the power of a good story, to help you forget the world around you. I could ignore the fact that she didn’t understand all the work that went into my short stories, all the work that still goes into them and my novel projects.

I could just focus on my words, my world, my story. And it was good.

Happy writing! 

Feedback: It Gets Easier

This is a post I couldn’t write a few years ago. Back then, I had just started sharing my work with others. Although I desperately needed feedback, sometimes it hurt. Sometimes the criticisms made me doubt. And sometimes those criticisms made me change my stories, for better and worse.

But it doesn’t change the fact that feedback is a necessary evil in writing.

That first project? You know the one. The story that started them all, the one you’ll see through the bitter end, and the one you fear will end up in the bottom of the desk drawer. That one—your baby.

Feedback on that story is always the hardest. There’s no way around that, unless you have a Teflon-coated ego (and if you have one of those maybe you shouldn’t writing). You put so much of yourself into that first book, your dreams and hopes that you’ll buck the trend and get on the NY Times bestseller list. Any critical feedback will seem like an indictment against all that labor and love.

But if you’re writing for publication, you’ll get over that eventually. You’ll have to. Along with revising and revising some more until it’s time to start the feedback cycle all over again. It’ll go easier the second time around. After all, you already understand how it works. You have a stronger sense of your story’s strengths and weaknesses, and perhaps more importantly, you’ll understand yourself better. Which means knowing when you are overreacting to a piece of criticism and knowing which suggestions you need to consider and which ones you need to ignore. This is a huge milestone, but it takes practice with the feedback cycle, and sometimes a strong understanding of the people reading your work.

It takes time to do this. But it’s time well spent, because you need to get all this out of your system in order to start on the next project, regardless of whether your baby sells.

With the next project, you’ve told yourself you’re not going to make the same mistakes as the first. And you won’t—you’ll just make different ones. And then the feedback circuit will give you time to fix them.

It’ll be even easier this time. You know why? Because you don’t have nearly the same emotional investment in this project as you did in the one before. I’m not saying you don’t care about this project—you most certainly do. But now you know that this project isn’t the be-all and end-all of your writing career. You have other stories in you. This new story proves it.

So feedback this time may still sting, but you’ll be better able to compartmentalize it and use it to fuel positive changes in your work. And this is hugely valuable when you’re faced with tough revision decisions like restructuring your novel, adding or subtracting characters, or simply gutting the story and starting all over again.

The hard work that maybe you weren’t strong enough to even consider with your baby. But now, when the hunger for getting published—getting out there—when you have enough confidence in your craft that it’s just a matter of the right story hitting at the right time? Yeah, that. That’s when the tough decisions get made.

(and if this sounds like a pep talk, it kinda is for me)

The takeaway is this:

The more you write, the more mistakes you get to learn from.

The more mistakes you learn from, the more viable stories you create.

The more viable stories, the easier it is to deal with feedback.

Why? Because you can be more objective about your work. Because you no longer have the one story to care about, you have other projects now. All that emotion, good and bad, gets distributed across them. The successes and failures of individual projects gets muted, which makes it easier to make objective decisions how to manage them.

It’s a good thing, I think. It’s just important stay engaged, move forward, and above all, keep writing.

 

In my experience, my objectivity is reduced the longer I spend working on something. Tunnel vision is inevitable—that’s why it’s so important to take a break from your projects every now and then to gain perspective. It’s also why you need other readers.

But at the very least, if you keep writing, the less likely you’ll fall into the trap you did when writing your baby.

*Time spent working on a project could be equated to length of project as well. For example, negative criticism on my shorter pieces doesn’t nearly affect me as much as for my novel-length stories. But your mileage may vary. 

Delayed Miscellany

I forgot to post this Wednesday, but life and writing happened, so I’m not too repentant.

If you didn’t know, Gearing Up to Get an Agent (#GUTGAA) is going on right now, and I’ve been busy polishing my own pitch and critiquing others this week. And I got the good news this morning that I successfully entered the preliminary round for agent judging. Yay! Even if I don't move on to the next round, my pitch has already benefited from entering.

I was also bestowed the Very Inspiring Blogger Award by the wonderful Jen McConnel. If you haven’t checked her out, you need to as she blogs about the writing life and provides insightful book reviews.

As a Very Inspiring Blogger Award recipient, I need to post seven interesting things about myself. Since I’ve done variations on this before, I’ll stick to writing-related things this time around.

1.  My Wily Writers story "Chicken Feet" is being reprinted in Bibliotheca Alexandrina’s The Shining Cities: An Anthology of Pagan Science Fiction. "Chicken Feet" is about a young girl who makes chicken foot ornaments, an aspect of Hoodoo culture, to survive a post-apocalyptic world. So please check out the anthology and the other great stories it contains.

2.  I won a partial request in this month’s Secret Agent contest through Miss Snark’s First Victim. Here’s a hint—it was for my YA SF story I’ve been working on. Keep your fingers crossed for me. And get your logline ready for the Third Annual Baker's Dozen Agent Auction coming up later this year.

3.  I’m joining a new in-person writing group. I’m still keeping my current group of course, but this new group is comprised of members a little further along in their writing journey (think pro sales and book deals). I’m lucky to have been invited, and the first session is this weekend. Hopefully I’ll have more to share about this soon.

4.  I went to my first SF/F convention two weekends ago. And I lived to tell about it! It was a local convention, and much more focused on books and trends than fandom, which I appreciated. Worldcon didn’t make sense for me this year, but I’ll definitely be attending next year when it’s in San Antonio.

5.  I received my print of the cover illustration for the Fat Girl in a Strange Land Anthology – a reward I received for supporting their Kickstarter campaign to pay pro rates and bring back their magazine. I’m going to frame it and hang it along with the illustration for my story in the Memory Eater Anthology in my office. Cuz yeah I’m a dork like that—and I need all the inspiration and encouragement I can get sometimes.

6.  Elizabeth Craig will be interviewing me in an upcoming edition of the Writers Knowledge Database newsletter. If you haven’t signed up (which you can do here), you are missing out. The Writers Knowledge Database is a great way to find resources on craft, publishing trends, you name it.

7.  Finally, I picked up a copy of Wired for Story: The Writer's Guide to Using Brain Science to Hook Readers from the Very First Sentence after reading Janice Hardy’s interview with author Lisa Cron. This is the first craft book I’ve felt compelled to read in a long time. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Okay... That's it for me. Have a wonderful weekend and happy writing!

Routines are Made to Be Broken

Like many people, I am a creature of habit. I like things just so at just the right time. Otherwise, I tend to get cranky. And that can negatively impact my work.

I like routines, and I’m a firm believer in making writing time a priority on a regular basis. Quite frankly, there’s too much work involved for me not to. And the more you write, the better you get, the more likely you are to finish what you start, and hopefully, eventually, get faster at writing. Muscle memory and all that.

All this is well and good and has worked for me. But real life is messy, and sometimes routine suffers. Unexpected errands, surprise visits, emergencies…entropy is all around us and doesn’t really care that you planned to draft a new chapter or edit that short story today.

When routines are upended by life, what do you do? There will always be things that happen that you can’t work around. But for everything else, usually there’s some wiggle room to stay productive, even if it’s doing something you didn’t plan on doing.

For example, let’s say I planned to spend the afternoon writing at the coffee shop, but instead I must take my dog to the vet. I still want to stay productive, so maybe instead of writing (which requires a lot of focus), I’ll read something related to my project, like a comparison title or a nonfiction book to help me research a key component, while I’m hanging out in the waiting room. That way I’ll still be moving forward even if I’m not in my ideal work environment.

Usually when my routine is disrupted, it’s a matter of whether there’s time to implement a contingency plan. Sometimes there isn’t and that's ok. But if there’s a window where I can shift gears, then I try to tailor my writing activities to the new environment I’m required to be in. This is often a function of how much mental headspace I’ll have.

For me, I need a lot of headspace to draft something new. Slightly less to edit something. Less still to read fiction. Even less to read narrative non-fiction. So if I know I’m going to be going from a place with lots of headspace to one with hardly any, I’ll change up my work plans accordingly.

Time is also an important component. Some books are harder to get into than others, and therefore require larger chunks of time to read and absorb. Same with writing and the need to warm up before committing words to a page. Some people swear by 10-minute bursts a day, but I’m just grateful I don’t have to be one of them even if I don’t have an ideal writing schedule everyday.

So when life throw’s you a curve ball, disrupting your orderly life, remember to:

Forgive yourself – It’s ok to take a break every now and again and focus on another aspect of your life. Your writing project will be waiting for you and even benefit from the time you spent away from it.

Change it up – Don’t be afraid to change up your routine and try something new. Not only are you staying productive, but also your brain just might like the new stimuli.

Recharge your routine – Relish routine when you can, but don’t forget to incorporate new discoveries into your ensemble. Especially if it works.

Routines are wonderful, but make sure they are flexible enough to evolve as you do over the course of your writing journey. You never want to get to a point where you can't write because ideal conditions aren't met.

Happy writing!