What’d They Do Right?

Although I’m pretty sure I was English teachers’ worst nightmare, I really loved analyzing literature. I had terrible grammar and spelling. When I’d read out loud, I mispronounced every other word. Like all great sponges, I soaked in a lot of information and managed to be a fairly straight-A student. I think this confused a lot of teachers.

One thing that’s nice about literature classes is how the teachers will discuss the novel with almost fanatical devotion. They point out the allusions, character emotional plot points, and meaning of life stuff. As writers we learn the value of a critique and getting it to the point that readers will want to dissect these things. So I find it only natural that writers are the most critical of current written work, picking it apart to bring out the best possible story.

Except sometimes this goes horribly wrong.

As soon as a series, story, or novel becomes popular a rash of blog posts arise denouncing all the things the writer did wrong and why, if people were sensible, they wouldn’t enjoy it.

Really? Are we really going to bash people’s opinions of what entertains them? This has always struck me as completely un-classy and coming from a writer never really looks good. To me, it comes across as jealousy over someone else’s success. Okay, I admit I giggle over the flippant 50 Shades comments or the occasional sparkly vampire reference. But when it comes to full public rantings and obvious frustrations that an “awful book” became popular, I have to take a deep breath. If someone doesn’t like a book I almost always chalk it up to not being her thing. That’s the subjective part of writing (with some exceptions, of course. I can understand wishing and pleading books contained wider appeal, more diversity, or better handling of plot/character. I really want to see this more, too. I like to see these arguments posed in “what writers are doing it right and still remaining popular” along with what we can do as writers to not add to the noise).

I think writers read hot books to learn how to write their own hot book. So it’s a learning experience in a way, an exercise. Except the exercise ends in bullet points of all the weakness of the book. I guess for me this is counter-productive because I always learn more when I figure out what someone did right. Some people may learn a lot by being extra critical, but for me it’s always been about seeing what the book did right.

When I want to have a story published in a magazine I read the stories that magazine has published. I don’t read it for “Why did these people get in and not me?” I read it for “What are they doing right?” I know it’s hard. Especially when I come across a story I don’t like. It’s difficult to avoid fixating on the weakness of that one story, but I’ve learned to cognitive therapy my way out of that scenario.

When I recognize that tendency, I step back, breath. It’s not productive for me to dwell on the negative. I might spend a ten-minute spitting-mad moment of quoting the awful prose to my husband who actually, bless his heart, just sits there and nods. But I almost always get myself back on track. If I don’t like any stories in a magazine, then I know it’s not my market, no matter how much I’d like it to be. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop sending material, but I might not read it as thoroughly. If I didn’t like any market then it’d be time to analyze what I’m doing in this profession.

I’ve met people who hate most books they read. I pity these poor souls. Why do they continue to torture themselves? I like to read the nitty-gritty public dissections posted by reviewers—those can be insightful. But when it comes from another writer, it’s that awkward moment at the water cooler where a colleague humiliates or harasses another co-worker.

It always comes back to me this way: If millions of readers read this book and loved it, what did they do right?

I love comments! Every comment you leave will result in a writer “getting it right” and will save another writer from a public rant. You will be doing a huge service for the writing community!

Also Blog Bonus: I’m guest blogging today at J. Kathleen Cheney’s blog. She is the author of The Seat of Magic and The Golden City. My blog post is: Set Your Phasers to Destroy: Unnecessary Verbs

 

Time to Write

bunchofclocks

Time to Write

I want to learn French. I want to learn to play violin and visit Tibet and New Zealand. I want to learn to fly a plane and I want to run a marathon. I want to become a karate expert. I also want to become a published novelist.

So many things I want to do but I have responsibilities, a seventeen-year-old, a black and white dog and cat, a house to maintain, and a job that is slightly better than bamboo under my fingernails. I have to make cash to survive and take care of the said responsibilities. So what free time I have, I cherish.

I use most of it to write.

I meet a lot of people who say they want to have some great adventure or learn or do something grand.

If only they had time.

If only they won the lotto. If only they were retired. If only they could take a year off. If only, if only, if only.

There is no tomorrow, there is no special perfect time to do something, there will never be enough free time, or money, and after you retire you are usually too tired to chase a dream. I’ve found the only way to have time, is to make time. Writing is a priority. It comes before fun vacations. It comes before I even think of getting a job with a pension. It comes before putting in new floors or shopping for clothes. It comes before reading for fun. It comes before buying a new car or even looking for a new relationship. If I want to really purse my dreams, I have to sacrifice.

Those who make it to the New York Times Bestseller list, or get to sing on Broadway, or get to visit the Dali Lama, or fly a plane. They give up something else. It’s a trade. Ben Franklin said, “Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that’s the stuff life is made of.”

I look at my list. I still want to go to Tibet and New Zealand, maybe learn some phrases in another language. I still run a lot in the summers (may do a half marathon) and I sneak a great book in quite often. In the end, what I really want, what I dream of, what I’m willing to trade my one and only life for is that important to me. What’s that important to you? What are you willing to sacrifice your time for?

For every comment you leave someone sells their stuff and runs off to Tahiti…

 

Things Fall Apart

There are days where things fall apart. I work hard to make something work only to get multiple signs from all angles that maybe I should let it go. I’ve had this happen a number of times.

For example:

Busting my buns to get to a play date, despite a broken down car, bad directions, and fussing baby who’s missed a nap—then when I arrive the kid we’re set to play with is super sick with chicken pox or something equally annoying. Yes, that’s something I’d like to know before agreeing to a play date, thanks.

Or

Doing everything I could to get a job promotion, despite failed hard drives putting together the paperwork, shady interactions with potential bosses, and staining my dress shirt right before the interview. Then when I get the job, find out it’s for less pay and more hours. Not exactly the promotion it was advertised to be.

In either case, the universe is trying to warn me against something and I’m so determined that these are just hoops to test my strength (sometimes they are), but a lot of the time it’s exactly what it is: a huge blinking caution sign.

I ran up against one of these caution signs this weekend. I absolutely can’t believe I’m going to blog about shoes, but here it goes.

When I had my son about seven years ago, I had some major nerve damage. Long story short, I had to do several months of physical therapy to re-learn how to walk (I had the ability to stand, but the signals to pick up my legs and set them back down was not activating). Maybe someday I’ll blog about it, but not today. (A year later I had to do another year of PT, for a re-occurrence of the same problem—again another blog post). During the course of the PT, my physical therapist explained that I should wear a certain type of shoe for my safety. I just don’t have the same muscle control as I did before in my legs. And I could never really walk in a heel to begin with . So I need shoes with tons of grip, wider bottom for stability, and preferably something that supports around the heel, so I don’t have to fight for balance (not a slip on, not a flip-flop, not a pump).

I got rid of my worst offenders (Good-bye Dansko). I figured I’d get by and cheat with the rest. I wore my dress shoes so infrequently, I figured I’d walk carefully and slowly and make it work.

I was born without the girl shoe obsession gene. I don’t really like to shop, especially for shoes.

Then this last year, my black dress shoes stopped cutting it. The leather has become so stretched out; it’s hard to wear. So I thought rather than buy new shoes, I’d use my Eddie Bauer gift card and buy a new dress and a new skirt. I only owned one dress before and no skirts. I swapped out my black shoes and thought I should start wearing my brown dress shoes instead. My daughter begged me to wear my new skirt around town and I did.

The black shoes are too stretched out and I’m sliding around in them. The foot bed of my sandals (which are fifteen years old) are crumbling and falling apart between my toes. And I thought I was being smart to save money by re-discovering my brown shoes, but they fell apart while I was walking around the house. No, really. They LITERALLY fell apart. I’m not mis-using the word literally. I’m not creating a hyperbole. Here is a photo of my brown Clarks shoes:

I was just walking and the rubber started crumbling

I was just walking and the rubber started crumbling. My husband is holding the shoes in these photos (in case you’re creeped out by my incredibly manly hands 🙂

 

Here is an angle where you can see a string of hair. Excuse me while I go sweep the floor again...

Here is an angle where you can see a string of hair. Excuse me while I go sweep the floor again…

 

So you can see, for once, I’m not exaggerating.

Things fall apart. Stories I’ve spent months perfecting don’t sell, despite the personal rejections piling up. Plotlines lose their logic and stop making sense, the kids get sick when I have a deadline, and I settle for last minute get-togethers with friends than the planned out parties we used to throw. It’s like I’m duck tapping a plastic chair together that is not safe to sit in anyway, or scrambling to keep a paper tablecloth from blowing away in the wind. Maybe I need a new chair. Maybe the table underneath is fine. Maybe that story that won’t sell is not my best and I have to dig deeper.

I’m pretty sure the universe is trying to tell me to let the world crumble a bit. And then search the remains, because something interesting/more beneficial/more healthy always comes out of the pieces. Instead of holding on to the old things around me (keeping status quo), it’s time to take action. It’s time to go the directions I’m being pointed toward.

And it’s time to buy a new pair of shoes.

We love comments! Every time you leave a comment something someone tried to make work that didn’t will turn out to be better than originally planned.

 

 

To Blog or Not to Blog

A big, fat, hairy thank you to the friend of my heart and sister-in-ink, Ms. Tina Smith, for sharing her knowledge, her giant brain, her tremendous talent, and her super cool blog. What an intro she gave me—right? Here’s my first stab, read on if you will.

To Blog or not to Blog that is the question.

For the last four years the answer has been a abso-freakin-loutly, unqualified, no. What did I have to say? I am an unpublished (pre-published is the new PC-I hear) wannabe novelist. Who will want to read my post? Who will hear me when there are a myriad other voices shouting to the ether. Listen, I have something great to share. (And pictures of cats, can’t forget the pictures of cats.)

But time has a way letting facts marinate, of letting them wiggle deep inside your brainpan and creating an ear worm. Why not you? Why not now? Surely the hours of study, the submission process, the contest road, the writer’s groups, the Nanowrimos http://nanowrimo.org/ (both November and April thank you very much). Surely that would give me some literary street cred. Hell, I even placed in one of those contest.

And I’m scared, as scared of Dorothy facing the Wicked Witch with nothing but a pair of slippers. How the heck am I going to use my cleverness to be interesting and write well and share my personal life?

So here I am standing on a precipice of exposure. Will I be John the Baptist, wild-haired writerly evangelist that will herald the coming of something new and wondrous or will I be just another voice among the forgotten. The writers who sit on the side of a pothole riddled road and beg passerby’s for a review on Amazon.

I am hoping to share some of my life, my writing path to published, and some writing craft ideas. (Teaser: And maybe even cat pictures!)

I wade in the water, covered in beginner’s grime, and let the speeding water of the internet polish away my hard edges. And I hope, with your help, someday I will shine.

Leave a comment about something you’ve been scared of trying and how you’ve overcome it, or wish us luck, or just say hi.

Also here’s a cat picture.

cat computer

New And Exciting Things!

I did something.

I know that’s really vague and mysterious, but wait for it.

So, I don’t think that I’m a blogger—or I haven’t been acting like one. Not one that can keep up the momentum that a successful blog needs. I needed to do something about that. Just because I’m not the model version of a perfect blogger doesn’t mean I can’t be one. After all, I’m the girl who wasn’t a writer not that long ago—and I worked my way around that “can’t.”

This blog has always been waiting. It’s been waiting for this moment. In 2012, before I’d ever sold a lick of fiction, I took an online writing class. It was technically my first writing class outside of what I could find locally. A month later I flew to Utah to a David Farland workshop, but first I took this online class. In the class we had to find an “editing partner” and this required me to reach outside my comfort zone. I’d signed up thinking I could just hide in the background, but soon changed my mind and decided I’d participate to the best of my ability. How would I get better otherwise? I’d been writing for several years at this point and not really getting any results. I was trying, but I needed to know why my best was not good enough so I could change it.

I scrolled through the list of classmates, many of whom knew each other already and had paired up. This scared me thinking I’d never find anyone who’d want to pair with a nobody who hadn’t sold a thing (except a handful of non-fiction, which I mentioned a few times in hopes all the agented, and selling fiction writers would notice I belonged and not run me off). Then I saw her. The perfect partner for me! Spunky, funny, quirky….pretty much me, but not me and across the US from me. I sent a little prayer to the writer gods that someone hadn’t nabbed her up. And thank you beautiful muse no one had gotten their 60wpm, cliché typing, pre-carpal tunnel claws on her yet. She was mine! All mine!

Pam Stewart. My other half.

The class ended and we kept talking. And we haven’t quit talking to this day nearly three years later. We email daily our achievements and goals. Without each other we would not be as productive as we’ve been the last few years. And it’s nice to have someone who thinks like me and knows my pitfalls and wraps a rope around me before I fall into those familiar pits.

Pam is what this blog has been waiting for all this time. So without further delay in the announcement I asked Pam to be my partner in blogging crime. And she said YES!!

The partnership starts immediately before she realizes what she’s agreed to.

We love comments! For every comment you leave, some lonely writer meets their kindred spirit writing partner.