writing

5 Ways to Feel Like a Productive Writer (Without Actually Writing)

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I don’t know about you, but as a writer with a day job, sometimes I feel like I’m failing if I’m not spending every free minute writing. I don’t know if this is a chronic condition of all writers (okay, probably not R.L Stine or any of the other novel-a-month authors) or a remnant from my MFA years in which it was hammered into me that writing time is a luxury that is not to be squandered. The condition is made worse by the number of articles out there compelling writers to get faster, write more words, or complete that novel in 30 days.

Inevitably, there comes a writing day when putting even one word on that blank page is a struggle, let alone 500 of them.  There’s lots of sage wisdom out there about not waiting for inspiration, that it’s discipline that makes one a successful writer, butt in chair, et cetera, et cetera. But combine a bad writing day (or two or three) with an anxiety about productivity and you have a recipe for disaster, IMO.

The butt in chair mantra is well and good for some writers, but for me, sometimes the butt has to come out of the chair. And that’s OK. There is no writing police. No one is going to point fingers at me and declare me less of a writer because every so often I need to use my writing time to browse Target with a mocha latte in hand.

However, since the nagging need to do something writing related never actually goes away, here are five things you can do to feel more like a productive writer on the days when the words just aren’t coming.

1. Read. Any writer will tell you that reading plays an ample role in the writing process. But if finishing that library book or settling in with a short story feels too much like leisure, try reading a book about writing. Might I recommend this one:

The Making of a Story by Alice LaPlante

The Making of a Story by Alice LaPlante

It’s huge. It’s a textbook! The size alone makes you feel like you are reading Important Things About Writing. But more importantly, it’s extremely readable and very, very good. It is an MFA in a book. Actually, it’s better than that because the discussion of the shape of stories has made me think of short fiction in an entirely new way. Spend some time reading about craft so you’ll be ready to apply it in your next writing session.

2. Critique. Analyzing others’ writing helps us analyze our own. Bug your writing buddies for pieces that they want feedback on. You have no writing buddies? Take apart a published short story or chapter from a novel. What’s working in it? What isn’t? If you were writing it, what would you have done differently? If you’ve been blocked because of an over zealous editor’s voice, this is an excellent opportunity to get it out of your system.

3. Journal. Okay, this is kind of writing, but it’s not. It’s not writing you’d want anyone else to see, anyway. When I’m in a particularly bad writing place, venting about it usually makes me feel better. This is the time to turn off the thoughts of the work-in-progress and just vent, rant, cry, whine, bitch about how much you hate writing. Putting those thoughts down on paper often helps expel them from the brain. And who knows, maybe in the freewriting, you’ll come up with a new idea or new character. Maybe you’ll figure out that tricky plot point.

4. Clean. There are some days that I can absolutely not get focused until I shovel the stacks of paper off my writing desk or clear the hall console table of the mail and junk pile up. I’ve heard a lot of writers talk about how they procrastinate by cleaning, but personally, I feel better in a somewhat organized environment. After hearing a writing teacher talk about this, I’ve even made it part of my process. The writing day doesn’t start until my office has been straightened up a little. Some days I have to spend time doing the bigger chores, but those are not wasted days. Like journal, I find it also clears my head — and my house — and doesn’t allow me any excuses about getting started tomorrow.

5. Exercise. I started running a few years ago and I’ve noticed a definite increase in productivity when I’m getting regular exercise. Not only is it yet another way to clear my head, I also feel more creative when I run. If I’m on a treadmill, by brain is on autopilot, leaving my mind free to talk to my characters, draft different plot lines, etc. If I’m on a neighborhood or trail run, I’m still a little on autopilot, but I’m also taking in the scenery and paying attention to the things around me. Both spur the creative process. But even if running isn’t your thing, the link between exercise and creativity is well documented. Get on a spin bike. Lift some weights. Exercise improves your mood, so even if you don’t get any writing done, at least you’ll be less prone to agonize over it.

Love what you do. Love how you do it.

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“Part of becoming a writer or artist is learning to love not only what you do, but how you do it.”

~~~~~
That’s my paraphrase of Rebecca Stead at Sunday’s Texas Book Festival Tribute to Madeline L’Engle. The discussion had turned to process and after Rebecca Stead mentioned she was a slow writer, Hope Larson asked if she’d heard that R.L. Stine writes a book a month.

I spend a lot of time agonizing over how much I don’t get done or trying to change my process to be faster or more productive and I know I’m not alone. My writing friends have recruited me in trying everything from fast drafting to setting a schedule to accountability buddies. We’re all out there looking to be better, faster, more productive.

Again, I didn’t catch the exact quote because I was being blinded by the light bulb going off above my head. Instead of spending so much energy trying to fight against my process, I should just learn to love it, slow that it sometimes is.

It’s a good revelation to have just before NaNoWriMo. It’s the one part of the writing process that I look forward to. I was thinking of skipping it this year. I have one mss that needs to be pushed out into the world and another that needs more revision attention than I’ve been able to give it. But dammit if I’m giving up an exhilarating month of fast drafting, logging word counts, and putting my head down and getting lost in my book.

I’ll have to spend the other 11 months learning to love my writing process, but November? I’ve got that one down.

What we talk about when we talk about rejection

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Anyone who has submitted fiction or poetry to lit journals for any length of time knows that a rejection letter is never just a rejection letter. There are varying degrees of meaning involved. Or, maybe we writers are just desperate to find hope in the deepest crevices.Back when submissions were mostly done by snail-mail there were three kinds of rejection you could count on:

1) The form letter. The most common and impossible to decipher. It could mean “Please don’t send us any more handwritten stream of consciousness ramblings” or it could mean that your submission was close but not a good fit. Hope meter: Low

2) The form letter with a brief note. Much better than your standard form letter, usually because it contained a few words from the editor or reader about how much they enjoyed it or an invitation to submit again. Hope meter: Higher.

3) The personal note, the holy grail of rejections. A sometimes hand written, sometimes typed (but referencing your name and your story) note from the editor, usually saying how darn close the submission came and asking you to send something again soon. The only thing better than this note is an acceptance, so for some of us, this is as good as it gets. Hope meter: Through the roof.

I’ve been lucky enough to get three of these last kind of rejections over the years and each time I was ecstatic. Someone liked what I read! Not enough to publish it, but still…

I don’t write short fiction or submit to magazines much anymore, but a few months ago I saw an opportunity to place a story. I logged in, uploaded the story, and waited about six weeks until an email showed up in my inbox. The story wasn’t a good fit, but they liked my writing, so send more.

Um.

Everyone says that tone gets lost in electronic communication and that is never more true than in the case of rejection letters. What did this mean? I was encouraged by the invitation to send more, but is this a form letter? It’s a new mag, maybe they want everyone to send more. How much hope should I ascribe to this?

I could spend hours wondering how much meaning to read in between the lines of the rejection letter, but something even more crazymaking occurred to me. What if this is as close as I ever come? People like my stuff, or they say they do, but they never publish it. It always needs just a little more work. It could always be just a little better. It’s always “good, but not good enough” and what if that never changes?

Excuse me while I go have a panic attack now.

Other writers have a lot to say about self-doubt. They seem to have a lot more to say once they’ve been published. Who hasn’t heard that Alice Munro finishes each book with the fear that she’ll never write another one? *side-eyes shelf of Alice Munro books*

I’d say the self-doubt experience is different when you’re an unpublished author. I’m sure getting published brings on it’s own special forms of self-doubt, but for me, right now, when all I want is to see something of mine in print, the scariest part of rejection is feeling like I’ll never achieve my goal.

I also think talking about these things – rejection, doubt – is less easy for us unpublished types. Oh, we talk about it, but we talk about strategies for breaking through or remind one another how all those Famous Writers got a gazillion rejections before they became Famous Writers. It’s rare that I hear someone express honest, raw emotions about how rejection really feels. Even on my ultra-supportive writer’s message board, concerns about rejection and self-doubt get hidden behind an anonymous alter-ego. Positivity is great and valuable, but sometimes I just want to know that I’m not the only one out there that gets that throat-closing feeling of fear.

Why is that? In this business, rejection is a certainty and with it comes anxiety and self-doubt. The least we could do for ourselves is talk about it.

So yeah, that happened. I’ll be fine. I’ll have other things to worry about soon enough – namely, finishing the query letter and last four chapters of my novel. When that’s done I’m moving on to the other revision that’s in progress. I have an accountability partner waiting for pages and a deadline in a few weeks, so dwelling on my fear isn’t an option.

Hope meter: Improving.

On Sharing

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I went home this weekend. I saw my parents (which was nice) and shared a room with two yowling and traumatized cats (which wasn’t) and ate and visited and had a generally good time. Inevitably, the subject of my writing came up. My mom asked how it was going and was I through with my book yet? I tried to explain revising and querying and the critique group that went kaput, but in the end, Mom really just wanted to know when I was going to let her read what I’d written.

Nothing makes me more uncomfortable than someone I know, particularly someone I’m related to (by blood or marriage), asking if they can read what I wrote.

Is that weird?

I feel like that’s weird.

I’m pursuing publication. The dream is that one day my book will be read by many people I don’t know. Many complete strangers. And yet, I’m hesitant to hand a draft over to my family.

This is true in other areas of my life, too. Years and years and years ago I kept a blog. This was back before they were known as blogs and were mostly online confessionals. I spilled my hopes and dreams onto a public web site that about a hundred people checked into each day. My housemates didn’t know about it. My parents found it, but weren’t very interested in it. It felt very anonymous. Safe.

Years later, after that journal petered out and Livejournal became all the rage, I signed up for one of those and instantly connected with friends I saw weekly, monthly. I recorded my day. I moaned about my job. I talked about writing, or rather, wanting to write. But it wasn’t the same. My friends were reading it. I had an image of myself that I felt I had to maintain. There was always a part of me holding back.

Still is.

My fiction is different. It’s not confessional. There might be some things based on my life (isn’t there always?), but it’s not autobiographical.  But there is a part of my writing that almost feels to personal to share with some people. It’s odd who those people turn out to be. Critique partners? Let ’em rip into it.  My best friend? I will hand a draft over to her in a minute. My mother. . . ?  Can read the book if it ever gets published. Or when it’s close to being published.

There are a handful of people who have offered to read this manuscript and I just can’t take them up on it. Is it because I’m afraid they will see themselves in my writing? Is it because they will see to much of me? I don’t know.

Who reads your stories? Who doesn’t?

Hey Jealousy

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I’m sure I’m late to the party, but has everyone read this:

We are all savages inside

If you haven’t, please go now and read it. Go. Seriously. I’ll wait.

. . .

. . .

Done? Good. There is so much to say about this article. First of all, is there anyone who hasn’t felt like Awful Jealous Person a time or two? I have. Not so much over six-figure book deals, but there was a definite feeling of jealousy in the MFA program when any of my classmates got pubbed in a lit journal. One of my lowest moments came just after I completed my MFA when a blog acquaintance got a handsome book deal off her blog. I swear, at that point, I could have written Awful Jealous Person’s letter word-for-word. (Minus the prestigious universities stuff. State schools all the way, baby.) It was a dark place for me. I had a blog! I had an MFA! Why wasn’t I the chosen one?

We are all savages inside. Sigh…

I like what Sugar says about going deeper and looking at what truly bothers you about other people’s good news. My therapist was a big fan of this kind of exploration, especially when it came to anxiety or other icky feelings. What’s really going on? she liked to ask when I freaked my freak over having my first paid article due and experiencing insurmountable writer’s block.

For me, for a long time, I used to get the bitter taste of  jealousy at any mention of writing.  Whether a friend had just completed NaNoWriMo, or were editing a chapter they loved, or they carved out 15 minutes to draft a scene. Any of those would make me a little jealous.

You don’t have to look to deep to see what’s really going on there. I was jealous of my friends who were writing because I was not. I was jealous of classmates because they were subbing stories right and left while I sent out maybe 20 over the course of a year. In short, I wasn’t working hard enough and was jealous of people who were. This has often been the culprit behind my own jealous feelings. The bitter taste I get when I read about someone getting an offer of representation can be traced right back to the fact that I want to get my own query letter written and start subbing to agents. And it’s not just writing related. For a while it was a little hard for me to read weight loss success stories and even seeing my friends’ Facebook updates about going to the gym made me a little grumpy.

This all turns out to be very good news, actually. If my jealousy stems from watching someone do something I want to be doing, then I can go do it. Easier said than done, usually, but it works. When I’m carving out time to sit and write and working hard on my novel or query, I’m not grumpy when someone tweets about the awesome revision they just finished.

I’m kind of glad that Sugar pointed out Awful Jealous Person’s entitlement issues, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with believing you deserve something as long as you’re putting the sweat behind getting it. And I’m not saying that just because this is the root of my jealous feelings, it’s the root of everyone’s jealous feelings. I’m just saying, at least go look for the roots.

In Praise of Praise

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You can learn a lot at a Doctor Who convention.

It’s funny that I’ve been to any number of writing workshops, writing conferences, readings, and Q&As by authors, but when I think about the real gems of advice, the real eye-opening stuff, it’s come through less obvious sources. In this case, it came from a Doctor Who convention.

Last weekend, I went to the epic Gallifrey One in Los Angeles. For those that are sci-fi or Who fans, check out the website and this recap and consider a visit in the future. It’s well worth your weekend.

This year, one of the biggest draws for me was Jane Espenson. Sure, it was great seeing Peter Davison, Janet Fielding, Sarah Sutton and other Who folk, but I’ve been a fan of Espenson’s work since long before the Ninth Doctor and Rose first rocked my world. We’re talking Dinosaurs here, people. And Buffy and Gilmore Girls. Espenson fangirl, right here, so when her name turned up on the list of invited guests, there was much squeeing and cheering in the Chicklit household.

I’m disappointed to say that I didn’t get into Espenson’s small group session (hers was the first to fill and though my friend and I grabbed the first two alternate spots, absolutely no one failed to show up for the session — surprise, surprise) but I did get to attend the interview and Q&A with Espenson and Doris Egan (novelist, producer, and writer on House, Tru Calling, Smallville). While most of the discussion revolved around the upcoming Torchwood: Miracle Day, there was a lot of talk about the writing process and what happens when Brits and Americans come together to write a tv show. It was fascinating.

And now for my little gem of goodness.

In describing what it’s like to work with Torchwood (and former Doctor Who) showrunner Russell T. Davies, Espenson mentioned that every email from Davies has the subject line “Hooray” and begins with “You are marvelous!”

Now, of course this was not news to us, the fans, who KNOW Jane Espenson and Doris Egan are marvelous because we’ve watched what they’ve done and we love it. However, giving notes with such praise is kind of unheard of in the both the tv writer’s room and the fiction writer’s room as well. I certainly can’t remember ever getting a critique that begins with “Hooray! You are marvelous!”

In fact, the whole idea of praise is somewhat eschewed in critiques. In beginning writing classes, we’re told to critique using the sandwich method: start with what you liked, go into what you didn’t like or what needs work, finish with encouragement. It’s not a bad plan, but it’s frequently abandoned halfway through the workshop in favor of just getting to the point.

By the time you get to an MFA setting, you will be scoffed at if you try the sandwich method. That sort of thing is for new writers, writers that need hand-holding and puppies and rainbows. Professional writers must grow thick skin and be able to take the brutal honesty as it’s doled out. And in a way, that’s true. The writing biz is so full of rejection and heartbreak, that it’s best to toughen up. And yet, if the writing biz is full of all the bad stuff, shouldn’t it be up to our peers and writing groups to give us the extra boost of enthusiasm?

What I gleamed from Egan and Espenson’s comments on Davies’ style and praise was that there’s a tendency to underestimate the value of praise. Espenson talked a little about her own style for giving notes and she admitted that she was afraid to overpraise because she worried it would make the writers complacent. However, she said that receiving Davies’ particular brand of praise made her feel less guilty about the script and more eager to do rewrites. “Instead of ‘oh, here’s the scene I screwed up,'” she said, “it’s ‘this is the masterpiece I just need to tune up.'”

What an awesome way to look at a manuscript. A masterpiece in need of a tune-up. I would be much more eager to work on revisions with that kind of feedback.

Admittedly, it’s been a long time since I’ve given that kind of feedback as well. I’ll point out what’s working, but I don’t think I praise my fellow writers nearly enough. And, when I’m involved in regular crit groups, I’m just as guilty of abandoning the sandwich method to get straight to the problems of the manuscript.

I’m going to try to do things differently. Of course, I’m not going to stop making suggestions about how to make manuscripts better, but I am going to try to give more credit to the strengths and give more encouragement to my fellow writers. Starting with you:

HOORAY!!  You are marvelous! Go forth and write.

Fess Up Friday: The Brrpocalypse is upon us

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I got nothing done this week. Well, I got nothing writing-related done this week. Instead I had a visit from my mom, a morning of “rolling” blackouts*, and now – to top it all off – there’s this layer of white stuff on the ground that has the entire city fascinated and also completely shut down**.

*There was absolutely nothing rolling about them, at least at my house. The power was out from around 5 a.m. until 1 p.m. It came back on about every hour to every hour and a half for about 10 minutes at a time. And of course I didn’t have either my phone or computer charged the night before. Thank goodness for Kindle.

**Midwesterners and East coasters please feel free to have a good laugh. Less than an inch of snow and Austin has cancelled school, closed city and state offices, and everyone is being urged to stay inside. We southerners are no match for the Brrpocalypse.

I’ll admit, when I first saw the forecast for a high of twentysomething this week, I did a happy dance. Finally, I would have an excuse to stay in my pajamas and at my computer. No grocery store runs. No feeling guilty for Southerner's Enjoyment of Snowmissing the gym. Twenty four to forty-eight hours of uninterrupted revision time. Except that my uninterrupted writing time started with a blackout. And seriously, the six hours I spent with intermittent electricity, racing to the coffeemaker, getting cars out of the garage, turning up the heater in hopes it will get above 60 in the house, really killed the desire to work. It did not, however, kill the desire to drink wine and watch Legally Blonde.

Basically, I went from day one excitement level to day four in the span of about eight hours. I am not meant to live in cold weather places.

So despite there being a layer of this so-called snow on the ground, today I’m making it a point to get back into revision shape. And to get out of my pajamas. I hope to bring you better news next week.

‘Fess Up Friday: Two steps back

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What happened: Twice now I have come on the blog to be all cavalier and like, yay, I’m feeling better. And then it comes back to bite me in the butt. So I’m not saying I’m better. I’m just saying things are not as bad as they have been, healthwise. Anyway.

I get in a pretty rotten emotional place when I get sick. I get tired. I feel bad. I get worried about my health and I end up not doing anything more than what needs to be done to keep my husband and I fed, clothed, and out of complete squalor. And even then, I sometimes fail. So that was last week.

What’s happening now: I’m revising and I’ve had a heck of a time with it. This weekend and earlier this week I tried several times to write the scene that seems to be missing at the end of chapter six. I’d write something and throw it out. Write something else, toss it. Nothing felt right. So then I did something crazy.

I threw out the draft and started retyping it from scratch. Well, not scratch, exactly but the last remaining hard copy I had. Now, I confess, this sounds like a gigantic waste of time, even to me. The Type As out there are probably rolling their eyes. You might be wondering, you couldn’t just edit the manuscript? Turn on track changes and go to town? No and no. I tried going that route and spun my wheels for three days. I tried it this way and typed/revised consistently for four. I like this way better. All the retyping actually helps keep me grounded in the novel so that when it’s time to completely revise or write a scene from scratch, I already feel like I’m there, you know? It’s like half the battle is already won.

At some points in the process, it’s simply data entry. At other points, it’s blood, sweat, and tears writing. But you know what? Even at the points where it’s just data entry, it’s still much better than sitting on my couch, agonizing over why I’m not creative enough to find the right ending for the end of chapter six. It feels like taking two steps back, but it’s not.

What I predict will happen: I’m still on target to have this revision finished by the end of the month. If I average about two chapters a day, I think I’ll be doing good.

What I am learning: Just as every writer’s process is different, so is every writing project. I never would have imagined doing this before, but this project calls for it and so I heed.

Happy writing, everyone!

NaNoWriMo: The Day After

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Congratulations! It’s December 1st. If you participated in National Novel Writing Month, you will finally find yourself with a little free time on your hands. So what do you do next? Here are my suggestions:

Celebrate! You just spent a month writing a novel and that merits some form of celebration. Treat yourself to a brownie at your local coffee shop or make yourself a nice dinner. Or celebrate by not making yourself a nice dinner and celebrating with a “night off” of all responsibilities. Just make sure to mark your accomplishment in some way.

Hug your family and friends. Because they let you disappear for a month and (hopefully!) didn’t give you too much grief about it. Because they cooked their own meals (or dialed the pizza delivery number themselves) or didn’t complain to heavily about the laundry that piled up or rugs that went unvacuumed.

Run all the errands that you put off in November. Yes, real life has to resume. This is the decidedly unfun part of the post-NaNo process. So just do it. Take a day to go to the bank or return that long overdue library book. You might find it’s actually nice to get out of the house again.

Put your manuscript away. I’d say put the novel in a drawer, but unless you’re keen on printing out 200 pages, you might just want to do as I do and create a special folder on your computer, label it “DRAWER,” and drop your draft file(s) in there for a while. Or maybe you just close the file and don’t open it. Whatever you choose, you need time away from your draft for a bit. As tempting as it may be to rush into the editing process, don’t. Ignore your manuscript for a month, or a week if you absolutely cannot control yourself. When you return to it, you’ll have a more objective perspective on it.

Read a book. Just in case you let the reading slip in favor of the writing, now is an excellent time to pick up a book again and remind yourself that reading is fuel for writing. So fuel up for your next round.

Start something new. If you don’t take any of my other suggestions, please take this one. Sit down on December 1st and write. You don’t have to write another novel in a month, in fact, definitely don’t write another novel in a month. You don’t want to burn yourself out. But write something — maybe a two-page brain dump in the morning or list all the story ideas you were forced to ignore during NaNoWriMo. Over the month of November, you made writing a priority in your life. You don’t have to wait until next November to do it again; you can do it every single day. And I hope you will.

Happy Writing!

‘Fess Up Friday: Week Four

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Well, it’s over for me. I finished National Novel Writing Month this morning with 50,362 words. Whew. And YAY!

Week four was quite the rollercoaster. As I mentioned, I started the week ahead by two days’ worth of word count. I did a little bit of writing on both Tuesday and Wednesday, but because of the holiday and company arriving, I didn’t get in more than 300 words at either session. Which meant I needed to write about 1,000 words on Thursday, or Thanksgiving Day to us in the States.

Do I even need to tell you how much that didn’t happen? I’m not sure any power under the sun could have actually gotten me out of the craziness that was hosting 12 people for Thanksgiving dinner and made me sit at the computer and write. My day in the kitchen started at seven in the morning and wrapped up around five. In between the cooking, there was visiting and eating and watching the most adorable 20 month old dance around our living room. In short, it was an excellent holiday and so I didn’t feel too bad about falling behind on my word count.

But fall behind I did and I spent Friday and Saturday playing catch up with word count. By Friday night I was just ready to be done with the draft and so I buckled down on Saturday morning and again in the evening, determined to finish by the end of the weekend. In all my writing time this month, I think that’s when my internal editor turned off completely. And I mean completely. Not only would I type a sentence that would ordinarily make me cringe and completely ignore it, I pretty much stopped using the delete key all together, which led to some very questionable spelling and punctuation. Ah well, I’m not sure my last scene will survive the revision process, so I’m okay with leaving it as the mess it is.

It’s too soon for me to really reflect on this NaNoWriMo as a whole, so instead I’m going to do a celebratory chair dance  (whoop whoop! raise the roof!) and wish all my fellow NaNoWriMo participants the best of luck in the next three days. I hope you meet the goals you set out to accomplish and I hope you learned something about your writing process along the way.

Cheers!