Tag writing

Jumping in

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I have officially reached the state of paralysis. You may have noticed there hasn’t been a blog entry since July. If you’ve seen me in person lately and asked what I’ve been working on, I weakly respond with a shoulder shrug and desperate rush to change the subject. There are a number of reasons for this. Life has a nasty tendency to get in the way of writing — family, job, house, volunteering — they all demand my time, my brain power, my creative energy. Also, guilt plays a pretty huge part of the equation. How do I strike a balance where I’m giving 100% of myself to personal responsibilities and still have something left for my creative pursuits?

Answer: I don’t. Instead of giving 100%, which is totally impossible, I give a lower percentage to each item at a decreasing rate dependent upon immediate need. Some examples: one of my co-workers recently retired at the cusp of our busiest season, which translated into extra hours at work. The kids started school, and I had to make sure they had what they needed. While I managed to keep everyone fed and in clean underwear, the layer of dirt in the house increased exponentially, and my laptop lay buried under piles of scout materials. No writing happened. For weeks.

But it’s not just that. There have been small chunks of time where I could have planted my butt in the chair and typed away at something… anything… but I didn’t. Why? you ask. I’ll tell you why. Doubt. Doubt is an ugly, ugly monster who has firmly planted himself in my brain. What if I never write anything worthwhile ever again? What if all my ideas are stupid? Does anyone really give a crap about what I have to say?

I have an amazing, supportive group of writing friends, who nod sympathetically as I describe the fears that stomp on my confidence like grapes in a barrel. They’ve all been there. They all balance life with writing, quietly shoving it into the corner when things get hectic, patiently searching for moments where they can settle into the salve that soothes us: the words falling onto the page from our fingertips, the release of ideas crowded in our brain. I need to write. When I don’t, I become this moody, unruly creature no one wants to be around.

Too many responsibilities, not enough time, pressure to perform — these are all things that can be overcome. But the longer I stand on the edge of the diving board, the harder it gets to jump. Every morning I promise to change, and every evening I go to bed without writing any words. Talk, talk, talk. No action. How do we push ourselves over the edge and into the pool?

I’ve been meaning to start a food blog, and a few weeks ago, it finally launched. It’s not much — a picture of what we ate for dinner with a short blurb about the daily challenges of being a plant eater in a house full of meat eaters. Follow along if you’d like. But it has helped get me out of my writing funk a little, and now that we are finally settling into the school year, hopefully I’ll get back into a writing routine. Which will at least address the first half of my difficulties.

As for the doubt, well, it may never fully go away. We all, at some point, feel inadequate about our skills and worry we aren’t accomplishing all we set out to accomplish. And you know what? That’s okay. We’re human. And as artists, we will never create the perfect thing everyone loves. So I guess my advice (to myself and anyone else who struggles with doubt) is this: Make time for the things that bring you happiness because they will make you a better person in the end. Focus on the process rather than the product, and stop worrying about what other people think. Easier said than done, I know, but if I can jump back into the water, so can you.

Happy birthday, Caravan of Composition!

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Today has been a full day. Youngest graduated from elementary school, and both boys enjoyed the bell-ringing satisfaction indicating the start of summer break. Following the graduation ceremony/last exam, we celebrated at their favorite restaurant, then came home and brainstormed a summer chore chart and screen time limits. I shifted my focus toward Camp NaNoWriMo, which starts on Monday, and checked off a handful of items on my to-do list. I nearly let the milestone pass me by.

Caravan of Composition is officially two years old today. My blogging habits seem to go in waves, but I am pleased to say I’ve kept up with this blog and my previous one for over eleven years. That’s like a million in procrastinator years. It’s challenging sometimes to come up with things to write about as life isn’t always “blog-worthy”, and I struggle with insecurities regarding the merit of what I have to say. A good friend sent me a recent copy of Josh Radnor’s Museletter in which he mentions nearly the exact feeling. We might not always feel that what we have to say is worth saying. Are my words of value to my readers? Does what I say matter?

Let’s get one thing straight: I like to listen to myself talk. My family can attest to this. I love to tell stories, often the same ones over and over (more vigorous nods from the van clan), and the level of exaggeration often increases with each retelling. For dramatic effect, of course. A small stretching of the truth makes things more interesting. There is always a fair amount of accompanying hand gestures, because my heritage demands it and they, too, add to the drama of a good story.

Blogging is different. First of all, I can’t use my hands or facial expressions to drive a point home. Second, the delete button allows me to rethink things that may sound stupid or cause a foot in mouth moment. (I have a lot of those in real life.) But it also sometimes restricts the flow of words. I have several unpublished blog posts that sit in the drafts folder because either I got distracted by life or decided what I had to say wasn’t of any value.

We are our own worst critics, aren’t we? Some of us don’t care and live an unfiltered life – taking the good and the bad as they come. Some of us let our inner critic keep us from pursuing our dreams. Some, like me, fall in the middle. Moments of feeling brilliant coupled with moments of crippling self-doubt. And I can’t write this post telling you how to quiet your inner critic, because if I did, mine would be muzzled in the corner. But I can say this: we rarely give ourselves the credit we deserve. Celebrate your successes, no matter how small they seem.

Today, I celebrate my eleventh year of shouting into the void, and the second birthday of my current blog. I celebrate getting my kiddos through another school year. I celebrate the sun, and summer, and the start of another month of Camp NaNo.

And I celebrate you, dear reader, for allowing me to keep doing what I love.

 

Hold on to the feeling

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Pardon me while I dust off the blog cobwebs. April was a busy month. I successfully completed Camp NaNoWriMo with over 20k words added to my manuscript! YAY! But don’t pop the champagne cork just yet, I may end up scrapping most of it and submitting an earlier version of the book. BUT, it felt good to stay focused on a goal and see it through to the (almost) end. One motivational note remains unopened on my cork board — the one I can open when I complete the draft. Which I haven’t done. Yet.

May has also been busy. I recently got back from the PennWriters conference (more on that in a bit), I’m working on a new freelance project, and I had my first author visit. Life has been, well, life. Let’s just say there’s never a dull moment when your spouse works two jobs (both of which require travel), your children are in multiple activities, and your cats don’t like it if you try to sleep past 5 am.

As much as I wish I could veg out in the sun (SUN! WE HAVE SUN!) with a good book, I’m happy to have a bit of chaos in my life keeping me on my toes. I know the day will come when the birdies leave the nest and I’ll have to find strange children to drive around town in my van.

Wait. That did not sound right at all.

So, yeah, PennWriters. It was incredibly fun, as always, and I loved being able to spend time with my writing tribe. I traveled down with a group of friends; we met up with other friends and had a blast.

Writers make the best storytellers (duh), and I laughed so hard my belly hurt. I pitched my manuscript (and got requests!), attended my first ever group book signing, met new people, and learned more about writing.

signing

Also, after acting as a reader for Read & Critique, where writers can submit their work anonymously and have it critiqued by industry professionals, an agent said she’d “listen to me read the phone book”. Stay tuned for my YouTube channel featuring: The White Pages, a Dramatic Reading.

Every year I’ve attended the conference has been a different level of awesome and always leaves me feeling inspired. Unfortunately, this year when I returned to “real life” several problems hit me in the face before I even had a chance to unpack. I wanted desperately to get back to the feeling I had jumping on the bed with my friends, the feeling that I could accomplish anything I set my mind to. Conferences give you a sense that you are a part of something, you belong, you are capable of reaching your dreams.

Despite the exhaustion and tears, I decided to face the next day with a returned sense of hope and positive energy. On Monday morning I went to a nearby high school for my first author visit. The teacher and librarian were incredibly kind (I am so thankful to John who connected us!) and they raved about my book. Said the students loved it and were eager to finish it and share it with their families. My heart burst with joy when I heard that. For me, writing is not about the money (HA!) or the fame, it’s about reaching an audience, about getting my words into the world in hopes they will affect someone in a positive way.

After I left the school I thought about the writing world and how it can be full of rejection and heartache. One of the students asked if writing was hard. I told her, yes (HELL YES), it can be difficult and lonely and you will want to give up a thousand times. But you search for people to stack in your corner, and you keep pushing ahead, and you find ways to fill your creative bucket.

There are things in my life right now trying to pull me under. But I choose to focus on what keeps me afloat: friendships, laughter, kind words, a sense of accomplishment, determination. Opportunities for growth.

And when I need an excuse to smile I watch this:

take two

 

How to pack for Camp

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Camp NaNoWriMo starts Monday which, incidentally, is also the day I become a parent of a teenager.

I can’t decide if I should be stocking up on coffee or vodka.

This April marks my fourth time doing Camp NaNoWriMo, which is a relaxed version of the National Novel Writing Month that takes place every November. You set your own writing goals, and I learned the hard way that they better be realistic or I’m a barrel of disappointment by the time I reach the end of the month.

Writing camp takes preparation, much like regular camping. The first time I tried it, I was woefully unprepared. It was a disaster, much like the first time hubs and I went camping and realized we were missing about half the things one needs to survive a weekend in the woods.

My life is a bit crazy. But recently I decided that if I am going to be a successful writer, I need to look at it more like a second job rather than a hobby. Something I commit to. Solid, productive writing. Not opening a word document, staring at it for a while, then wandering the Internet. The problem? I’ve been frustrated with my current project and afraid to wander back into the novel I shelved last year after a round of query rejections. I needed to get out of my head and let the words flow. But how?

While writing SECOND IN COMMAND, I had tight deadlines, which was extremely motivating. So the first thing I did was look at my calendar and give myself an end date. The annual PennWriters conference is mid-May, and I signed up for pitch appointments. Which means I need to have a project to pitch. A finished project.

Step One: Set a deadline for writing project. Commit to focusing on that project ONLY.

I printed out a March-April calendar, looked at it alongside our life calendar, and circled days I would be able to write. I think one of the obstacles facing writers who also work, raise children, take care of households, etc, is that we feel guilty carving out time for writing. But writing is important. Even if it pays very little or not at all, it is something I need to have in my life. I’m happier when I’m writing. It’s therapy. So far I have followed through and written on my circled days, and on the non circled days I spend extra time with my family or just relax. Giving myself permission to take time off in between has helped me focus on my writing days.

Step Two: Create mini-deadlines. Make them reasonable. If they aren’t working, revisit the schedule. Celebrate success. Crossing off days is weirdly rewarding. (Stickers work well too.) I calculated how much work I need to do to finish the project in time for PennWriters, and wrote mini-deadlines on the circled days.

The time part figured out, I moved to the other part of my blockage. Where the hell do I even start with this thing? The novel originally had two separate story lines, and the feedback I got was that they weren’t gelling and a few agents didn’t like the one character’s voice. So I cut her. And was left with half a book. Now what? I needed to get back to the drawing board. I read books on outlining and plotting, and thought ugh, I’m normally a panster, but I don’t have time to spend in multiple revisions. I need to fill the plot holes early.

Step Three: Make a plan. Get the hard stuff out of the way.

I brainstormed on my trusty legal pad, then filled out note cards for each chapter. They’re three different colors to indicate where they fit within the three act structure. I figured out which chapters from the original version would work moving forward and where I’d need to add additional content.

I’ve been writing for two weeks now, and the note cards have been an amazing tool. I know where the scene starts and what I need to include and can focus fleshing out characters and creating tension. The fun stuff. I told hubs last night that this is the first time I’ve been able to write freely in a long time. It feels good. Of course there was a large hurdle to overcome — my first scene is brand new, and right now, it’s not great. But I got to the point where I had to tell myself to let it go and move on. To paraphrase Dory: Just Keep Writing.

Step Four: Find ways to keep the flow moving. Meditate. Close your eyes and focus on your breath. Go for a walk. Focus on how your senses perceive the world around you.

Step Five: Love yourself. The last thing I did to get ready is a tip I learned from @qnwrites on Instagram. She posted about writing a letter to her future self that she’d open during Camp. I loved this idea and expanded it a little by writing letters to my future self to be opened at the end of each week of Camp and when I finished each section of the book.

notes

They’re color coded to match my index cards. Of course.

I taped them up on my bulletin board to keep myself on track and motivated.

April is packed. The boys’ activities fill our calendar, my parents return from Florida mid-month, and our biggest recruitment event at work happens on April 30. In addition to Camp NaNoWriMo, I’m also this month’s hashtag leader for the Writing Challenge  on Twitter. And we’re taking a mini vacation to visit family. Whenever I open my online calendar, panic ensues.

Step Six: Commit to sit. It’s the only way. Fill the coffee mug, crank the tunes, and write.