Taking the Time to Tinker

My father is visiting me this week. It’s been a good visit so far, and tomorrow we’ll be having an early Thanksgiving, making a mini version of the turkey, stuffing, and other goodies since we won’t be able to celebrate together at the end of the month.

But there’s a twist. Instead of pumpkin pie, we’ve made a key lime pie. Instead of mashed potatoes and gravy, we’re having a sweet potato and butternut squash gratin. And we’re trying out a new recipe for cooking the turkey instead of the traditional standby method we’ve used for years.

Part of this is for practical reasons. As great as Thanksgiving is, two full-blown meals just a few weeks apart is just too much for any mortal. Changing up the menu is a way to preserve the symbolism of the meal but keep it fresh for the palate.

It’s also an excuse to try something new. Something different. It's also a way to practice something we both love to do: cooking. Maybe we’ll find a new method or recipe that will replace the old one. Make a new tradition for ourselves. Or, then again, maybe not.

But we won’t know unless we try.

Just like revising, until you take the time to rework that problem scene or brainstorm ways to invigorate the third act of your story, you won’t know what works unless you try.

And in the mad dash to produce a draft, to get an agent, to get published, time is at a premium.

This November, even with NaNoWriMo in full force, I encourage you to take the time to tinker. Take the time to try something new, something different with your writing.

Give yourself the mental headspace to consider the possibilities of what can be in your story.

Your craft will thank you for it.

Family Vaction or Why I'm Still in the Closet When It Comes to My In-Laws

Tomorrow we leave for a two-and-a-half week vacation of sorts, which includes two weddings, a trip to the beach, and visits with college friends. It will be fun and exhausting, and there’s an excellent chance I won’t get anything done.

But I’m still looking forward to the trip. Even though I need to make some tough decisions as to which books to pack. Frankly some books are simply better on a plane versus on the beach. Or read on the couch in front of in-laws instead of before bed at night.

And of course any time spent with extended family can lead to awkwardness as to just what do I do all day. Now that I have two stories forthcoming from Eclectic Flash, the temptation is there to finally say I’m a writer.

But here be monsters.

Why? Well, for starters, They May Not Value Writing. I have evidence that could go either way here. If they aren’t big readers or value only extrinsic measures of success, they just aren’t going to get it. But I am a member of the family, they are generous people, and they respect me. So maybe they’d respect the writing too.

They Also Have No Clue Just How Difficult Writing Can Be. And this goes for a healthy chunk of all non-writers. So much thought goes into word placement, structure, characterization… The more I learn about writing, the trickier it is to get words down on the page that I’m satisfied with.

Because they don’t understand how hard writing is, They Will Ask Me Why I’m Not Published Yet. You know, as in what really counts when you are a writer – a book deal. Short stories are, well, short, and no one is making millions on them. Publishing is a molasses-slow process, just as writing something worth publishing takes a looong time. They won’t understand milestones like getting a CP, or querying that first agent, or getting a full request. They just want to see a book.

And there’s the whole They Will Want To Talk To Me About My Writing Projects. They might ask out of courtesy or maybe they are genuinely interested. Which is great. I can appreciate that, even though I don’t like talking about my work until it’s far enough along that I’m comfortable sharing it with others. Ideas are just that, and until they get to the page, I don’t have a strong sense of how things will turn out. A careless word by someone else can destroy a story before it even starts. Plus, can you imagine me discussing the finer points of love scenes in my historical romance with my father-in-law? Neither can I.

But I guess it all comes down to the fact that They Will Stop Thinking I’m A Mystery And Start Seeing Me As A Dreamer With No Prospects. In some sense, the question of what I do – do I stay at home all day? Do I volunteer? Do I watch soap operas? Do I secretly want to have babies and be a stay-at-home mom? - protects me and keeps them from knowing the truth. Rejection is writing’s constant companion. I don’t need someone telling me writing is impossible, that I’m a dreamer for even trying it. I already know that. But I do it anyway, and that can be hard for some people to understand.

So yeah. Not telling them. Yet.

My husband and I discussed the best time to tell them the truth. And we decided that a professional short story sale or an agent would necessitate telling folks about me writing and all that. You know, which ever came first.

(cough) yeah, right (cough).

But for now I’m optimistic that one day I will be able to share this part of my life with them. I am a dreamer. Or a masochist. It’s hard to tell some days.

***
Because of all the travel, blog posting and commenting may be spotty, but I wish you all happy writing! I’ll be back for sure by the second half of the month.

Hiding in Plain Sight

Being a writer, I’ve come to accept the fact I’m more observant than other people in my life. I have to be, if I’m ever going to be any good.

So it always surprises me when my husband or a friend or family member makes a canny or clever observation. My hand reaches for the notebook even as I wonder just what else they make of the world around them that’s never voiced. After all, that’s a wonderful thing to aspire to as a writer – giving voice to what people never articulate for themselves. Those truths that resonate with readers.

I’m an intensely private person – the anonymous blog is one clue. Only a few people in real life know I write, and it will stay that way until I have a bit more to show for my efforts. I'm flying under the radar. Hiding in plain sight. Or so I thought.

My conception of myself was thrown for a loop recently when I received a gift from one of my aunts. A book on writing, with the note: “I think this is something you like to pursue in your own way.”

At first I thought my father spilled the beans to his sister. He swears he didn’t. This was just my aunt putting two and two together. Somehow.

I’m still struggling with how she guessed since I’ve never acknowledged that side of me when I’m around her. Of course we both share a love of books and have been trading novels, recommendations, and reviews for years. And my vague answer to what I’m up to these days is probably eyebrow raising to her, considering my past academic and professional achievements. But that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable admitting it. To her. Yet.

But the fatigue of keeping up appearances, of pretending this huge part of my life doesn’t exist, is wearing on me.

The fantabulous, always-articulate Tahereh Mafi wrote a post this week on Writers Coming Out of the Closet. Even looking through my old archives, I’ve noticed this issue of identity recurring again and again. And there are hundreds of posts out there from published authors, bestsellers even, who still feel insecure in their writerly-ness.

Do you find yourself hiding in plain sight? How do you own being a writer? And if anyone could tell me who started the silver pin “I am a writer” badge, I’d be much obliged. Happy writing!

Spousal Rhythms

or My Post for the Early Bird Thanksgiving Blogfest

It’s that time of year where we not only eat, drink, and be merry but also contemplate what we are thankful for.

I have a wonderful life. I ask my husband what we are going to eat, not how. I worry about the logistics of traveling home for the holidays, not the financing. All of Maslow’s basic needs are covered. I have my health, a wonderful family, supportive friends, and more and more confidence each day that all this writing stuff is going somewhere. And I am thankful for all of these things.

But if I had to choose one thing I am most thankful for this year, it is my husband’s support. It is his job, his abilities, his willingness to let me explore, that has given me the opportunity to write fulltime. There are no guarantees anything will come of it – we both know that – but he supports me just the same.

I get most of my writing and reading done while he is away at work during weekdays. Nights and weekends are our time, whether it’s making dinner, doing dishes, or running errands. But because he’s a researcher, sometimes personal life gets pushed aside in favor of deadlines for proposals, conferences, and journal articles. It is during these crunch times that I simply reach for another book or tinker with another WIP afterhours. I get more work done when my husband’s workload increases.

It’s kinda funny, but I also think it’s a time when we both understand the most about each other’s work. When he’s writing proposals or articles, he gets so frustrated when the words don’t come. Or when the writing sucks hard but he knows he just has to get it down in order to fix it later. Sound familiar?

On weekend mornings, we’ll go to coffee shops and hunker down at a table for two hours – he’ll be typing away on his computer or highlighting an academic paper, while I’ll be scribbling in my notebook or red-lining a printout of my latest story. Sometimes we’ll both catch each other staring off into space, thinking about our next words, or working out a new idea, or simply taking a break from all the mental exertion that goes on at our little table. We’ll smile, maybe make a joke, discuss our new idea or where we got stuck, and eventually start working again.

It’s a nice arrangement – how his working rhythms dovetail with mine. It’s not something I expected, but now that I have it, I can’t imagine going without. How do spousal rhythms influence your writing? Do they cheer you on? Work with you side-by-side? Or give you the time and space to do your thing?

I am thankful my husband gives me a little bit of everything.

This post was written for the Early Bird Thanksgiving Blogfest, spearheaded by Jeffrey Beesler. You can find a list of other participants at Jeffrey Beesler’s World of the Scribe.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Identity and In-Laws

My in-laws are visiting for a week starting today. Lovely people. Honest. We get along for the most part and although we’re not best buds, I know I can count on my husband’s parents for anything.

So what’s the problem? They don’t know I write. As far as they’re concerned, I fritter away my time while my husband works. Quite a reversal for an educated woman who had clearly achieved some measure of professional success in another life. Do they think I’m lazy? Unmotivated? Depressed? It’s hard to say since it never comes up except in oblique, sideways references.

I’ve run into this issue with friends and acquaintances as well. There are some people I just don’t know well enough to tell them about my creative aspirations. If I meet someone at happy hour, I’m not going to launch into my plans for the umpteenth revision of my WIP. I’m sorry but I don’t trust my dreams and hopes with just anyone. (There's a great post at Diary of a Virgin Novelist that also talks about this issue).

Even close friends of mine don’t know. If I fail, I want my failures to be as private as possible in this day and age. I’m still insecure with my progress. I keep thinking it will be a lot easier to tell people what I do once I have publication credits to point them to. (Agent Nathan Bransford calls this the “if only game”). Without evidence, I feel like a cheat. A wannabe. I feel the whisper of failure.

So I don’t talk about writing. I don’t talk about the one thing that has shaped my life into what it is today. I keep it all bottled up inside. When people do inevitably ask me what I do, I play the fool, cultivating the image that I’m just some pampered housewife taking her time figuring out what gives her life meaning besides cooking, cleaning, and laundry. This way, my deep dark secret is safe. But at the same time, I’ve discounted my intelligence, my abilities, my determination. People don’t take me seriously. And I’m accustomed to being taken seriously. It’s quite a reversal, and I’m still trying to cope with it.

I feel like my interaction with people who don’t know I write are monochromatic, one-note, absent of vibrancy and meaning, because I’m holding some much of myself back because of vague notions of pride, fear, and self-preservation. It’s not something I necessarily enjoy. I’ve gotten better about it. I’ve let a person here and there in on the big secret with no obvious ramifications. I felt a bit more entitled to the idea of being a writer after attending my first writing conference. And then of course, I always have my colleagues from my writing groups to help put things in perspective.

But there’s something about the in-laws that makes everything worse. They don’t know. They won’t ask. And I just end up feeling awkward about the whole thing. Even if I do succeed someday in getting published, I’m not sure if they’re the type of people who would understand my decision to write when more practical, prudent paths are available to me.

But what’s important is my husband understands. He understood my desire to write before I ever articulated it. I’m thankful for that everyday I get to play with words. And usually that’s enough.

Home Sweet Home (In Theory)

I’m back in my hometown. Been here since last Thursday. My sister’s bridal shower and bachelorette parties are behind me (and went off without a hitch), and in theory, I have two weeks until the wedding hoopla builds up again for the actual ceremony and reception. Two weeks to work on the revisions I brought with me. Two weeks to develop new blog posts (since I’ve been a bit remiss lately) and to come up with new writing ideas.

Cue the eye roll.

I know what happened last time I was home, and it wasn’t writing. Granted, I’m at a coffee shop right now working on this post while my dad’s out golfing. But the next couple of days I’ll need to be working on my writing, and he’ll inevitably be around – without his golf game to distract him from me and my WIP.

He’s not stupid. He knows what I’m doing. But we’ve reached an unspoken agreement not to talk about it. In theory, this means I can write whenever I feel the need to, but I’ve never made my process so visible to him before.

At the same time, if I just do the normal thing (think vegging out in front of the tv – ah, cable…) I won’t get anything done. And there goes all my personal goals and deadlines. Down the drain.

I know what you are thinking: Get over it. Writer’s write. Own the process. Do your work justice. Everyone else can be damned. And while in theory this is true, it’s a lot harder to be self-righteous in the privacy of your own home than it is when you are reliant on the hospitably of others. And yes, I’m painfully cognizant of the fact that my childhood home is no longer my home. I no longer feel comfortable enough here to be myself.

Ugg.

Thankfully, all this angst lends itself nicely to blog ramblings. I will have some actual content in my post next time around. In theory...

Until then.

Dog Days of Summer

I’m writing this at my local coffee shop on Tuesday afternoon – after the contractor canceled on me and pushed back our appointment to Wednesday. Last week I would have killed for the opportunity to get out of the house. But today I almost talked myself out of going. I was feeling meh, my writing was blah, and all I really wanted to do was take a nap.

I was channeling my inner procrastinator.

Once I realized what I was doing, I got in the car and drove to the coffee shop despite the inner voices wailing that I had no idea what to write and had nothing to edit since I ran out of printer ink. (Another convenient excuse not to write).

But I’m here, with java in my veins. And I’m writing. Or at least trying to.

As this month winds down, I’m finding it difficult to concentrate and write the way I want to. A very big part of it is my new home, which despite my efforts still manages to distract me from my various WIPs. I’ve gotten a bit better at balancing home improvement with writing. Just yesterday I had a bunch of new windows installed and was still able to revise two chapters while the crew was tearing out the old windows and caulking in the new. But it can still be overwhelming.

I’m also panicking a bit because I’m spending the vast majoring of September in my hometown for my sister’s wedding. While family fun and festivities are a given (yay!), my ability to write will be virtually non-existent (boo!). Which places added pressure on my time now. On top of this, the founder of my critique group suddenly dropped off the face of the earth to deal with some personal issues and may not be returning. So now the remaining members and I have to figure out how we want to proceed. Sigh.

I’ve accomplished so much the first half of this year that it’s hard to be content when the going gets tough and I’m not producing. I’m also playing the waiting game with some of my submitted pieces, which is also contributing to my malaise. I should be writing something new or finishing past stories. And I am, but only in fits and starts – I’ve yet to find my rhythm and I’m worried I won’t be able to get my groove on until October when I return from my sister’s wedding.

My writing is a casualty of real life right now. I don’t like it, but I’ll deal. In the meantime, here are some resources to help you stay productive when the world conspires against you:

• 16 Tips for Being Productive While Working From Home from WorkAwesome
• How to be Insanely Productive and Still Keep Smiling from zenhabits
• Productivity Advice in 5 Words or Less from Marc and Angel Hack Life

And for writing in particular:

• Finding Time to Write from The Blood-Red Pencil
• The Right Time to Write from Journaling Woman
• Maggie's Excessively Long Post on Time Management from Author Maggie Stiefvater’s LiveJournal
• How to Write Productively from Quips and Tips for Successful Writers

Equilibrium

What is it about being human that makes us unsatisfied, regardless of what we have accomplished, what we have, who loves us and so on? We are always striving, always looking for something else, perpetually dissatisfied with our lot.

Or maybe that’s just me.

I have a good life. Supportive husband, new home, sunshine on most days, and a dog who loves me even when I’m ignoring her in favor of my laptop, notebook, or the latest novel I’m reading. But a vague sense of unease always seems to encroach upon my otherwise wonderful life, like a cloud on an otherwise sunny day.

I want to be doing more. With my life, with my writing. But right now, I feel off-balance. The scales are slipping, and I'm not sure how to fix it.

With the new home, my attention is diverted by home improvement projects. I’ve had to get used to the painfully irregular habits of contractors and try to fit my writing around their schedules. It’s been murder on my productivity. And I have to wonder how much of that is my fault.

As I write this Thursday afternoon, I am sitting at a table at my local coffee shop after nearly two weeks on lockdown at the new house to ensure the contractors could get access to the parts they needed to get to and so I could answer any questions they had as they did their work. But finally (finally!) I was able to get out of the house and ride my bike to the coffee shop. Sure, my route is at least twice as long now. And twice as hilly – my thighs are quaking with fear of the ride home even as I write this.

But it doesn’t matter, not if it means I get to write uninterrupted for a couple of hours. Away from the contractors, away from the dog, away from the books upon books I haven’t read, away from the home improvement projects each room needs. Now that I finally have the new home we’ve been saving up for years to own, I realize it is just one more enormous distraction in an already cluttered life.

I’ve been trying to come up with other means of reestablishing equilibrium in my life. Trying out different rooms of the new house to write in. Different times during the day (depending on contractors). Different WIPs. Slowly, slowly, I’m starting to find my rhythm in this new place, in my new set of circumstances.

But I’m still dissatisfied.

I guess I can only channel that energy into my writing to help me get words down on the page. I have to believe I will adapt. I will achieve. I will balance out.

I will find my bearings once more. Bear with me, and while you are at it, offer up your own tips for finding balance in an off-kilter world.

Weeding Out the Crap

I spent the weekend weeding in my new yard. Because it rained recently, the softer ground made it easier to yank out all varieties of flora. The overcast skies were also ideal for working outside each morning. It didn’t get too hot, and the only thing I had to worry about was making sure I didn’t push my lower back too hard.

The previous owners had done a good job with the landscaping, but in the time it took for us to close and move in, Mother Nature was slowly but surely trying to reclaim the property for herself. Pruning the overgrown branches was easy enough, same with cleaning out the opportunistic weeds that popped up between the bushes.

But in a handful of planter beds, it was unclear which plants were weeds and which ones were actually supposed to be there. So I started by tackling the ones I thought were weeds. The path of least resistance, so to speak. This also happens when I’m revising my work. I’ll start with the easy stuff: breaking up compound sentences into two or smooshing two short sentences into one, adding in commas for readability or taking them out, simplifying prepositional phrases, refining adjectives, and eliminating adverbs.

These techniques are supposed to result in leaner, meaner prose. And it usually works. Once I clear away all the distracting verbiage, I am better able to see how the story works together as a whole. Then I can get my hands dirty dealing with more fundamental issues.

But sometimes, even after tackling all the easy stuff, I take a look at what I’m left with and it’s not good. Like when I was weeding. By the time I excavated the larger plants and looked them over, I decided many of them just weren’t worth saving. (It didn’t help that I couldn’t identify many of them either.) So I ended up chucking them, thinking it would just be easier to start over come spring.

And sometimes that is what we have to do with our WIPs. After we’ve made all the cuts we can, sometimes we will still be left with misshapen plots and stillborn characters. Nothing we can do but start all over again.

Except we don’t always have to start from scratch. I found a cluster of rosemary that had been nearly strangled by all the weeds in one of the planter beds. I was thrilled because I wanted to plant rosemary, and here it was, already with a tenuous foothold in my new yard. Now that rosemary will set the tone for my gardening plans for the rest of the property.

And to think I had almost missed it in my zeal of pulling every last bit of green out of the planters. I was so engrossed in what to eliminate, I forgot to examine the possibilities each plant could offer. I’ll be more careful when I tackle another section of the yard next weekend. But this also brings up a good point when you’re revising too. You want to tighten things up and cut the fat, but you don’t want to be so heavy-handed with your edits you destroy something useful.

Ready to revise your WIP? Check out Kim Blank’s Wordiness, Wordiness, Wordiness List  and ensure your work is as lean as possible. Then see if your prose passes the Waistline Test, which I originally found through India Drummond’s site. But be careful not to strip out everything... you still want to keep your work yours.

Happy weeding!

The Joys of Home Ownership

(or Writing Life, Interrupted)

My husband and I closed on our first home last Wednesday. Then, before we had a chance to let that thought sink in, my sister and her fiancé came to town for Fourth of July – a four-day weekend of wine, fine dining, and sightseeing.

When I returned to my apartment yesterday after dropping them off at the airport, I wanted to collapse in my chair and take a nap. Or pull out that short story I needed to edit. Or keep hammering away at my SciFi novel. All the writing activities I couldn’t do while my sister was in town. But as I looked around my apartment, it was clear that the only thing I should do was pack.

So I assembled boxes, filled them, and humped them over to the new house. That barely scratched the surface, and I’ll need to repeat the process every day this week. Friday I’m borrowing a truck from a friend to speed things along, and Saturday we have reservations for a moving van to transport all the furniture and appliances. Sunday the apartment needs to be cleaned and vacated. It's only Wednesday and I’m already tired.

Today, as I write this, I’m camped out at the new house (I’m literally sitting on a camp chair in the middle of an empty room), waiting on a roof contractor to inspect the rear porch the previous owner was supposed to have repaired before closing but didn’t. Then there’s the windows guy I need to meet with to review which windows are being replaced. Then the plumber, the painters…

I knew buying a house (a fixer no less) and then all the moving and unpacking and organizing would be time-consuming. Or at least I thought I did. Now that I’m in the thick of things, I realize just how much I underestimated how all consuming this process is. There’s no time for writing, let along blogging.

So if I go MIA for the next few days, you’ll know why. As happy as I am to finally own my own home (and to be able to make it ours), I can’t wait for the dust to settle. I want to be writing. I just have some things to take care of first. A lot of things...

How Buying a House is Like Writing a Novel

Yes, this is one of those writing process is [insert metaphor here] posts. And yes, I may be unduly influenced by the fact that my husband and I had our offer on a house accepted earlier this week. But the whole house hunting/buying process revealed a number of uncanny writing associations to me, which is what I want to share with you today.

At the start of your search for a new home, it’s helpful if you have a sense of what you are looking for. How important is location? Do you want something that you can move right into, or are you a do-it-yourselfer? When determining what your next novel’s about, similar questions crop up. Where does your story take place? Are you a planner or a panster? Are you writing for the market or are you blazing your own trail?

Where do I sign? : Hook and Premise

Over the course of our house hunt, a sure sign a home had potential was whether or not I could imagine myself living there, along with my husband and dog and any theoretical offspring we may consider having in the (distant) future. As an aspiring writer, you can bet it’s pretty easy for me to imagine all sorts of scenarios, even in ugly houses. But the ones that stuck out were the ones that kept me thinking even after we moved on. The ones I wanted to make my mark on right away. And luckily that was the way I felt about the home we made an offer on.

Brainstorming story ideas is a similar process. I have a number of ideas that I could develop, but I usually only tackle the ones that get me hot and bothered (in a good way). The ones with an innovative hook or an exciting premise. An idea that gets its mitts into my mind and doesn’t let me go until I get it all down on the page. Your story idea should grab you, just like any home you buy. Don’t settle for something that’s an almost fit. You will be disappointed.

Location : Setting

When choosing a home, location can be pretty important. The right school district, commuting distance, access to public transportation, distance to stores and services. These type of things all impact your house’s value and can set it apart from others in the crowd. Similarly, if your house backs up to a highway or a gas station, that can negatively affect the value.

With books, setting is just as important as location is to a house, impacting character, plot, and mood. Done well, setting can seamlessly support all elements of your story, in some cases becoming a character in and of itself. Setting that’s underdeveloped or there just for show (think wallpapered historical romances) can weigh down the rest of the work, leaving your reader unsatisfied.

Layout : Structure

Seeing the inside of different homes helps prospective buyers decide if they’d like to live there. Some layouts are functional, others inviting, and some just down right funky – often a result of piecemeal renovations gone wrong. The layout is a result of the plans of the builder, the materials used, and how everything came together.

Just as the structure of your novel is a function of plot, character, and your means of telling the story. It can be full of twists and turns like that creepy upstairs hallway or fairly straightforward like an open floorplan. But what matters most is that your story’s structure successfully encapsulates all narrative elements in a cohesive way. You don’t want a bathroom all by itself in the backyard of your home (unless you actually like outhouses). Neither do you want to have Plot Point C or Character X existing on the periphery of your story’s structure.

Décor : Style and Diction

So you have your house, and now it’s time to put your mark on the place. Wallpaper, paint, tile, new carpets, hardwood floors, furniture, pictures, linens…the possibilities are enough to make any HGTV host squeal with delight. You want something that speaks to your personality, something that soothes your soul on cold winter nights by the fire. Shape, color, texture are all at your disposal.

When writing, it comes down to words, punctuation, and how you combine them. You want your story to be yours. Let every line resonate with your authorial voice. Wield your words like a hammer or as softly as a stroke of a paintbrush, in order to achieve the emotional impact you want. But above all, make it yours.

Repairs and Renovations : Revisions

Whether you buy a fixer (like we are) or you buy new, sooner or later, household repairs will need your attention. Whether it’s a loose railing, a hole in the drywall, or a complete overhaul of the kitchen, you are going to have to get your hands dirty and make some changes.

Your manuscript isn’t immune to changes either. You will need to revisit and revise your story often to eliminate the clutter, to smooth out the prose, and to tighten up the plot. It’s hard work. Make sure you have the proper mindset in place to make the most of what you already have. If you find yourself in over your head, it’s ok to go back to the drawing board. Maybe your improvement project is bigger or more complicated than you thought. Just remember what you’re working towards, and keep chiseling away at it bit by bit.

Home Inspection : Peer Review

Getting a home inspected is typically a part of the buying process. But even over the course of owning a home, an inspection can alert you to potential problems before they become too costly to deal with. Think of it as a preventive measure to keep your home at its very best. Similarly, over the course of writing your novel, it can be helpful to stop and take stock of where you are at. Sometimes the best way to do this is to let a trusted critique partner or writing group take a gander at your WIP. Much like a home inspector, they will typically provide you with unbiased impressions and point you to things you need to work on. But don’t let just anyone inspect your home or read your work. Always get credentials and referrals first.

Appraisal : Agent/Editor Evaluation

After painstakingly caring for your home or laboring to make renovations, you’re ready for Show-Me-the-Money-Time. Maybe you want to refinance or want to have an accurate accounting of your assets. An appraiser would take a look at your property, compare it to others in the neighborhood, and tell you how much its worth. Sometimes all your hard work and investments pay off. Sometimes you can be surprised – maybe your improvements were just average or not enough to keep up with other homes in the area.

The same thing can happen when you think your novel’s ready for primetime and you start querying. This is when you see if your story can hold its own against the competition. Is your story strong enough for an agent to take you on? Is your story good enough to be published? Maybe, maybe not.

Regardless of your home’s appraised value, remember that you are the one who has to live in it every day, not some person from the bank assigning it an arbitrary numerical value. Similarly, if your story gets rejected by an agent or editor, it’s not the end of the world. You wrote your story, you are the one who got to live in a world of your own creation over the course of its development. Remember that and cherish those moments,  especially as you make plans for your next WIP.

There are a lot of homes out there for you to choose from. Just as there are an astounding number of book ideas floating around in the ether. But it is what you do with your idea or your house that makes it truly yours. Happy hunting!

On the Road and Off My Game

I’ve been traveling for the last two weeks. On the road across the US of A. I’ve made pit stops at my cousin’s house, where she and her husband have just welcomed a new baby boy, and my father’s house, so I could finalize details for my sister’s bridal shower this September. In between changing diapers and making food for my sleep-deprived cousin, I thought there’d be time to write. While I was visiting with family and friends in my hometown, and conscripting vendors into service for the shower, I thought I’d be able to write and get caught up on my reading.

I knew the trip would be disruptive to my writing schedule. I thought if I brought my notebooks and reading materials, I’d fit it in whenever I had a spare moment. I would start researching my next WIP and brush up on short stories by working my way through a contemporary story anthology. I thought as long as I packed everything up with the expectations that I’d still be able to get things done, I’d be ok.

Boy, was I wrong.

This isn’t to say I haven’t accomplished anything since I hit the road… But like that second trip to the salad bar, my eyes were bigger than my stomach. I’ve been able to keep up with the blog posting – more or less – mostly thanks to the post scheduler feature, but just barely. I’ve been able to do some light revising at the coffee shop near my dad’s house, but getting away is difficult.

You see, I feel guilty for wanting to get away to work when the object of my trip is to visit with my family. I can’t always write in the house because I risk interruptions by family members and then there’s always the distraction of House Hunters marathons – at my house, we got rid of cable for that very reason. Plus, I don’t want to deal with questions like ‘What are you working on?’ and watch my dad trying to be supportive even as I can see the wheels turning in his head, the doubts he can’t always hide. He’s human, and he’s right to be skeptical. I just don’t want to have to deal with it.

So my progress has slowed. I’ve generated no new content besides the occasional blog post, and it’s getting to me. I’ve missed two writing group sessions – and I can tell. I miss my routine. I miss writing. And even though I don’t have the flexibility to work the way I want to while I’m traveling – I’m scribbling this Tuesday morning (4/20/10) in a coffee shop before I have to meet my dad for lunch – just knowing how out of sorts I feel after an extended period of not writing is hugely comforting.

Because I know what I want to be doing every day. And it’s a relief to know that my writing has become such an integral part of my life.

Friday night, I will finally be pulling into my driveway, and it can’t be soon enough. Even though my intentions to stay productive on my trip were ultimately unrealistic, I have a lot to look forward to besides the resumption of my writing routine. First, I’ll be joining another writing group. Instead of focusing on weekly writing prompts like my current group (which I’ll still be participating in), the new group is focused on monthly critique sessions with the goal of publication. Second, I’m attending my first writing conference. It’s local, so it’s not of the scale as some of those you hear about, but I’m optimistic I’ll get something out of it.

 

Hopefully both these things will jumpstart my writing energies as I recover from my two weeks on the road. Details will be forthcoming.

Contradictions of Being a Writer

Writing is a solitary pursuit 95% of the time. You spend hours alone as you put words to paper until your hand cramps. Or maybe you sit in front of your computer typing in one word only to erase it a moment later in an endless cycle.

But here’s the rub. You can write by your lonesome for years – wholeheartedly embracing the myth of the lone writer – but you won’t have any idea of your level of skill until you put yourself out there. Unless, of course, you are awesome. For the rest of us mere mortals, this means writing groups, critique partners, classes, and lots of rejection. This means strong-arming friends, family, anyone you know into reading your stuff and generating feedback. No matter how awkward or embarrassing. So long as you are committed to improving.


And there’s the paradox when writing for publication – what began as an insular, solitary trek becomes public at some point. After all, you hope there’s an audience for your work. But it’s all too easy to convince yourself that it’s just you on your little island with your typewriter, notebook, laptop, or what-have-you. And quite frankly, it’s safer for your ego that way.

But as painful, or terrifying, or annoying as it is to have someone else’s eyes on your work, it’s usually worth it. It doesn’t mean compromising your writing so it’s in accordance with the lowest common denominator. The more people who read your stuff can only help you get a sense of your strengths and weaknesses and a range of possible reactions to your work.

Saying all this, of course, is easy. Alas, putting it into practice is not.