Transitions

Write what you know.  I’m not going to venture an opinion on this bit of writing advice, but I am going to use it as a jumping off point. Right now, what I know is that I’m on plane in Nashville waiting for take off. My husband and my son are here, too. My daughter is not. She’s staying behind to start her freshman year at Vanderbilt. She’s completely ready for this transition. Me? Not so much. After I hugged her this morning—and may or may not have shed a tear or three—we walked around the Parthenon in Centennial Park. There was time to think as we wandered among the exhibits and the enormous statue of Athena and her shield (that’s the photo to the right). I found myself alternating between feeling misty and knowing this is as it should be. By nature, I’m a person who wants to jump from one thing to the next. I’m not so sure that’s a healthy way to approach life. Transitions have their own beauty. Beauty isn’t pain-free. It can mean tears. It does right now. My daughter’s off to her new life. My new life will be one without waking her up in the morning or staying up past my bedtime to make sure she’s made it home safe. I won’t be picking up her shoes by the door. I won’t be making vegetarian meals for her. No more girls’ lunches after picking out a dress she needs for the next big event (at least not as frequently). I’m going to miss all that. This moment, though, has its own beauty. As I write this through watery eyes, I know I must feel what I’m feeling. I must feel the emptiness of her room in New York and the happiness of knowing she’s in a small dorm room overlooking the beautiful trees and green lawn of the commons of her campus. She has a lot to look forward to. I do, too. I know that even though this moment is bittersweet, I must savor it because it will not last. So, please excuse me while I shed a few tears . . . and smile some, too.    

Read more

You got this.

Something’s in the air: writers talking about that dreaded moment when the ideas get stuck. The September issue of Writers Digest features Jane K. Cleland’s insightful take on writer’s block. Definitely check it out.  In the meantime, I canvassed my fellow Miss Demeanors to find out what their favorite tips are for pushing through the times when your writing doesn’t work like a faucet. Their answers are helpful, concrete, and fresh (thank you, Paula). Susan: I’m not sure if I was given this advice or simply figured it out during teaching, but I do think the best thing to do is to put your character in the middle of a scene and let her surprise you. One of my favorite exercises in class is to have students imagine their characters are late for something. Anything. What do they do? It’s fascinating to me how that can lead to so many inspirations.  Alexia: I forget who told me this or where I read it: “Open a door.” If a door opens, someone or something has to enter or exit (or there has to be a reason why the door opened but no one came or went). Tracee: I agree! Sometimes we need a specific prompt to get past a block- arriving late or going through a door are perfect. I keep close track of my as written outline and then any overall outline so when I’m at a roadblock I usually walk my way through it- visually on a chart/notes on the wall. This way I can perhaps see opportunities that I’d missed or forgotten! Michele: Fear is my biggest block. I deal with it in writing and in life. I was surprised when I read Ann Cleeves still gets scared and tickled when she responded to my comment on Twitter the other day. Writers are so generous. The other piece of advice comes from Lee Child, but often repeated and shared by our own Paula Munier. Write the slow parts fast and the fast parts slow. Now, that is a practical gem. Cate: I outline a lot, so I have an idea of what I am going to do each day. Often, the characters and writing go in a different direction that forces changes to the outline, but having one keeps me from waking up and thinking: where was I going with this. Robin: For me, it depends on the blocker. If I’m getting hung up on words themselves, I recall what someone once said to me, “just say what you mean and fix it later.” If it’s plot, then I’m like Tracee. I keep a cast list in a text file open where I can see it so I can refer to it easily to look for opportunities to complicate the lives of my main characters. I start with the question of what motivates each person then either deprive them of what they want or make them wish they’d been more specific. Paula: I’ve become a big fan of the voice recorder app Rev, which allows me just to talk through a scene and then they transcribe it for me and send it to me. A real person does it, putting in the quotation marks and the paragraph indents and all the things I don’t want to think about when I’m just playacting my way through a scene.I download it into a word document and then I have something to edit and I’m happy again.The app is inexpensive, and they only charge a dollar an audio minute for transcription so for me it’s a very good deal. I can use it when I’m walking the dog or driving or washing the dishes or whatever. I use it a lot in hotels when I’m traveling, too. This allows me to get more work done, faster. And since it feels like I’m just talking to myself (which I am very good at) and not really “writing,” it eliminates the fear factor altogether.

Read more

Sing your own song.

 This time of year, the birds start singing early. The great crested flycatchers have one sound, the black-capped chickadees another. The gray cat bird something else entirely. You get the point. Different birds sing different songs.  We all know the value of asking a wise friend for advice.  I have a handful of writer friends who have excellent judgment. I rely on them, but in the end, I have to make my own decisions.  Many of us don’t give ourselves the chance to exercise our own judgment. You may have a friend who gets up every morning at four and writes. Lee Child has said (at least once) that he doesn’t start writing until after noon. I know a writer who wrote her third book in a matter of weeks at a small house in upstate New York.  There are as many good ways to approach writing as there good books. It’s good to listen to other writers. It’s good to learn from the generous community that is suspense writing. If something sounds appealing, try it. If it works for you, fabulous. If not, move on.  Then. . .  add your own song to the mix.       

Read more

Stand on your head.

I practice yoga just about every day. Don’t worry, I’m not going to proselytize. I am going to pass on a bit of yogic wisdom, though: Stand on your head.  Its rather wonderful to see a room upside down. You notice things you hadn’t paid attention to before. You see space underneath things. You spot chips on chair legs that had been invisible before. When you turn back right side up, you understand the room in a new way (and you know where the dust bunnies are hiding). When you find yourself stuck, turn upside down. You don’t have to actually do a headstand,  although by all means do so if it sounds appealing. What you do have to do is come at your work from a different point of view.  That may mean putting yourself in your antagonist’s shoes. Think about him as part of a family.  What kind of grandpa would he be? Bad guys can be grandpas. They can even be good grandpas. I’ve done this exercise with my favorite antagonist. I don’t discuss his family in Blessed be the Wicked, but I know he has thirty-three grandchildren and ten great-grandchildren. Knowing my villain watches his granddaughters play soccer and reads stories to his grandsons changes the way I feel about him. That changes the way I write about him. Try it. You might discover something about your characters and their lives you hadn’t known before. Namaste.   

Read more

Leverage your laziness.

 When I’m in the creative phase, I must meet my word count…except when I don’t. When I’m in the editing and revising phase, I must meet my page count…except when I don’t. It’s good to have default rules for your writing. It can be time, page count, word count, whatever makes sense for you. Establish your rules and follow them. Yes, there are times when you have to make exceptions. Those times should be, by definition, exceptional. Only you can judge that. Each of us knows when making an exception is valid and when it’s not. We know when we’re being lazy. I’m not against laziness. I love laziness. I love it so much that I use the promise of being lazy as a reward. I promise my inner lazy writer whatever she wants after I finish what needs to be done. I will sit by the pool, sip something cool, or watch that show I’m embarrassed to admit I watch after I finish.  Writers write, whether they’re feeling lazy or not. If you’re like me, and the idea of doing nothing is appealing, use it. If you’re reading this, however, and have no idea what I’m talking about when I talk about laziness, give me a call.  I have a garage that could use some straightening.

Read more

When the writing gets tough, the tough get writing.

 It’s hot. It’s sticky. If you’re feeling anything like me, you’re feeling a little lazy. Okay, maybe a lot lazy, but writers write. So how to keep it up as we enter the season of vacations, naps, and picnics? I’ve been thinking a lot about how to write through the tough periods. You know those times when your blank screen mocks you and your fingers aren’t able to find the right keys. (If you’ve never experienced this, count yourself blessed.) I know deep in my heart that it doesn’t matter whether the words come easily or not, I must write regardless. I also know that’s it’s more fun when you sit down to your computer and everything just flows. It’s nice when you start typing and the next thing you know, your characters have taken you down a road you never expected and the next time you look up, you’ve written three chapters. That’s a wonderful feeling. Savor it. None of us needs help when we have writing days like that. It’s harder when each paragraph–each word–comes slowly. When you find that your fingers keep hitting the delete key. Or worse: your fingers don’t want to move anywhere. Since I’m in the middle of one of those stretches, I’m going to share whats getting me through: (1) Be honest with yourself about your level of commitment. Last week, Ellen Byron (the amazing talent behind the Cajun Country Mystery series) wrote a wonderfully insightful blog on Career Authors about the difference between being committed and being interested. I won’t try to revise what she wrote. Please check it out yourself. The take away is: If you’re committed, you’ll do what’s necessary even when it’s uncomfortable and difficult.  (2) If you’re committed, you will figure out a way through. When I turned thirty, I committed to running a marathon. That meant running increasingly long runs every weekend. I did those practice runs pushing my young daughter in a purple baby jogger. As the runs got longer, her patience grew shorter. Let me tell you, when your baby starts crying, it’s hard to not just turn around and go home. But. . . but I was committed to running a marathon. I found snacks and toys to keep her occupied as I ran 18 then 20 then 22 miles along the Schuylkill River in Philadelphia.  Finally, I was ready. Then September 11th happened. My original plan for when and where I was going to run changed. Instead of giving up, I searched for the next marathon I could run without causing undue hardship on my family. Turns out it was Baltimore. The route back then was known for being hillier than Boston. I hadn’t trained for hills, but I registered anyway. My lack of uphill training manifested itself some excruciating knee pain by mile 5. A volunteer medic told me that even though the pain was bad, I wasn’t causing any irreparable damage. I kept running. I finished. The end.  If you decide you’re more interested than committed, by all means take the summer off. There’s nothing wrong–and everything right–with taking a break when you need it. If, however, you are committed, you can check back here this week for tips on getting through the challenging bits. On Friday, my fellow Miss Demeanors will share their best writing advice for getting to the finish line.  In the mean time, consider where you are on the interest-commitment spectrum. If you take the summer off: enjoy! If not: I hope you’ll share your thoughts on writing when the writing gets tough.  

Read more

Inspiration Sideways

Most writers have more ideas than they know what to do with. (Yes, I did end that sentence with a preposition.) Finding inspiration is not a problem . . . except when it is. For me, this usually happens around the 30,000-word mark. I’m happily typing along, letting my characters do what they want to do when the words start to slow down until I click on the keyboard one last time. I describe the feeling as standing on a wobbly rock in the middle of a river. There’s no clear way to the other side and the rocks behind me are under water.  I am, for the most part, a big believer in AIC (credit to Nora Roberts). Writing output is directly correlated to time spent sitting at the computer. When I start in the morning, I set a timer and do nothing but write until it goes off. Just doing it works great when it comes to getting writing done. From time to time, however, we face something in our story that doesn’t quite work, and we’re not sure how to make it right. That’s when it might be time to step away. A few weeks ago, I found myself in a hole at the very end of the second Abish Taylor mystery. I spent a few days trying to type my way through it, but got no where. So, I took a break at the Met. Art museums are my refuge.  If I can find space away from the crowds, I don’t much care what the exhibit is about. (There, another preposition.)  A stroll through Central Park works, too, if the weather is to my liking. I’ve come to believe our subconscious mind sometimes can solve problems our conscious mind cannot. We need to give our subconscious space and time. For me, walking and looking at something pretty allows for just this kind of problem solving to happen. Museums and parks may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I suspect that everyone has his or her own way of “stepping away.” Find yours. . . . and, if you like museums, are interested in the Catholic Church or fashion, I can recommend the “Heavenly Bodies” exhibit at the Met.      

Read more

Note to self

When I asked my fellow Miss Demeanors what advice they’d give their younger writing selves, the answers came quickly. I don’t know that I have anything to add, but I’ll share my thoughts any way. If you want to write, write. Don’t let fear of rejection or failure get in the way. The more you write, the better a writer you’ll be. Whatever happens, pay attention. You can always write about it. Cate: Quit your day job sooner. Better to starve (when you’re single) and do what you’re passionate about. Tracee: I agree with Cate. Get a good education, then try to live your dream…. maybe get some life experience. No better time to volunteer with a NGO and see the world. I used to see the UNHCR cases with their handlers on the train outside Geneva and wonder where they are going….. looking back I should have gone along. Susan: That’s a great question, Alison, and I think about stuff like that all the time, except that I’ve come to realize that most of the really stupid things I’ve done have led me to a better understanding of why I, and others, do stupid things, which is a useful thing to think about, especially when writing mysteries. So I guess my advice to my young self would be to try and be forgiving and take lots of notes. Michele: Don’t let fear hold you back. Dare to break the rules. Learn to know when. Live life fully so you have lots of material to write about. Don’t make time to write. Write, and if there’s time leftover, well then do the other stuff. Alexia: Don’t fall victim to imposter syndrome. You’re a good writer. Your stories are as valid as anyone’s. Don’t let anyone else tell you how you should tell your story, don’t let anyone else tell your story for you. And if they don’t like your story, told your way, tant pis for them. Their loss. Paula: Breathe. (Not that I would have listened.)

Read more

Rules and breaking them

A grammar and punctuation maven, I am not. I want to be, though. The more I read and the more I write, the more I appreciate those writers who not only dazzle with storyline and character, but who also construct sentences with careful thought. It isn’t that these writers always follow the rules, but when they break them, it’s with style. So, I’m happily embarking on the never-ending journey of learning the rules . . . and how to break them. What the rules are is up for debate. Reasonable people can disagree (cue: Oxford comma). I think it’s a writer’s obligation to make an effort to know both the rules and the debates about them. I may never have the depth of knowledge that, say, my editor or agent has, but I’m going to at least try. The Elements of Style is always a good place to start. I have the 2005 edition Maira Kalmon illustrated. It makes me smile every time I open it. Lynne Truss’ Eats, Shoots & Leaves, Kingsley Amis’ The King’s English and Stephen King’s On Writing are some of my favorite reads when I want to give in to my inner writer geek.  I’m also a fan of some of the on-line grammar gurus. Grammar Girl, Grammarly, and Oxford Dictionaries are just the thing when I’m in the middle of something and need quick guidance. There is, of course, the risk of falling down the rabbit hole because of the temptation to just keep reading until I get to a debate on the Oxford comma or using prepositions at the end of sentence. That’s my signal that it’s time to get back to my writing. I’m always on the look out for something I haven’t seen, so please share your favorite standbys for all things grammar and punctuation.      

Read more

Insecurity is part of the process

 “Reminder to writers who think their book sucks: This is normal — push through it. Insecurity is part of the process. Only bad writers think they’re good,” Harlan Coben tweeted last week. If you’re anything like me, your first response to this quote was relief. Hey, you’re not the only one who looks at your 80,278 words and thinks only about two sentences were any good. Your second response to the tweet was probably despair. Your inner critic will remind you “Harlan Coben can say that because he’s Harlan Coben. You’re not Harlan Coben.” True. I’m not.  “Maybe it’s not perfect,” I tell my inner critic, “but I did as well as I could.” That’s when powerful insecurity takes hold. The moment I admit that the best I can do may not be good enough. Not a pretty way to feel. Feeling insecure is distinctly uncomfortable. That’s why most people avoid it. That might be okay for most people, but not for writers. Being uncomfortable is a requirement for anyone doing new things. If you avoid feeling insecure, you avoid exploring places beyond your comfort zone; you don’t go where no one has gone before. That makes it hard to write. It makes it really hard to write well. The truth is no one can tell you your insecurity is baseless. Someone (besides you) is bound to think your writing is bad. Maybe some of it actually is bad. That’s okay. But, just because it’s normal to feel insecure doesn’t mean you should stop. Thank you, Mr. Coben, for reminding us that sometimes feeling not so great is completely all right.  Now get back to writing.    

Read more