Writing Support Groups

Hi. I'm Michelle, and I'm a writer.

It's been five years since I started writing novels, and only a year since I confessed to my friends and family about it. I was, I don't know, worried what they'd think of me if they knew I was a writer. They'd expect me to become a best-seller immediately. Or maybe they'd hate what I wrote.

So, for a long time I kept it secret, writing in my bedroom with the door closed, never mentioning to anyone that I was clandestinely writing.

And then I stumbled upon a website for writers. Authonomy, it's called, and I found a virtual connection with hundreds, even thousands of people in the same situation I was in. They understood about my writing habit, and they even helped me become a better writer. There are plenty of writing support groups like that, both online and in local groups where people meet up and read each others' work.

After participating on Authonomy for a few months, it felt almost normal to be a writer. There were so many people doing it, I wasn't alone anymore. I established a connection with other writers who understood me and my struggles to write. Then I got up the courage to tell everyone that I was a writer. It was such a relief not to hide it, not to be worried that someone would find out.

Since then, I've finished writing my first book and have even completed another book. It's become part of who I am, and I'm not ashamed of it anymore. Plus, I've made friends with other writers who are amazing people and whose friendship I truly cherish, even if we've never met in person. They offer me support whenever I need it, even if it doesn't deal with writing.

So to all of you listening, I applaud you for taking the first step to coming out about your writing habit. Take the next step and connect with other writers and see how much more enriched your writing and your life will be.

Hare-brained ideas

I have a lot of them. Honestly. But sometimes these ideas turn out to be good in the end. Like when I decided one day that I wanted to study abroad in England. It was one of the most wonderful experiences I've ever had.

So my latest hare-brained idea involves going back to school. I've sworn I wouldn't do that, but then things changed in my mind. I'm actually the kind of person who enjoys the classroom atmosphere. Hate the homework and grades, but I love being in a place where intelligent debate happens. And I love learning new things more than anything.

It was a dream I had the other night, though, that kicked this into gear. Strange, I know, but maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me something. I dreamed I was moving away to go back to school for my masters. Not too complicated, but when I woke up, I instantly decided to look into going back to school for a graduate degree in writing.

I looked into it, and the best solution for me is the low-residency MFA programs that many universities offer. Spend ten days every six months in intensive writing classes, and then the rest of the time you write at home while still working at your day job. And the program I really like is in beautiful Oregon. What could be better?

Now, an MFA is probably not for everyone. I've heard some people tell of it ruining a writer's creativity. But for me, I really think it could focus my writing efforts and take my storytelling to the next level. Besides, having a Masters opens up a lot of doors.

Maybe my hare-brained idea isn't so hare-brained after all.

Finding my way

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm a follower. I see something I like, and then I try to copy it. Twittering, for instance. There are several people I really admire on there, and I'd love to emulate their humor, spontaneity, and excellence. And then there's this blog. I started it for a number of reasons, a big one to increase my profile as a writer and editor. But the problem is that I've been inconsistent.

So I realized the other day that if I want to accomplish a goal, I actually have to set one. Duh. And then I have to plan out how I'm to go about doing so. These are simple things, but sometimes I look for the complicated and the simple eludes me.

Instead of trying to copy what others have done before, or even to emulate them, I'm going to be myself. I'm going to set some goals, put my thoughts into coherent plans and then accomplish those plans using my intelligence and craft—not anyone else's.

I'm not saying it's wrong to get ideas from what someone else is doing, but really, I need to take an idea and make it my own, not a cheap imitation of someone else's brilliance.

That's what I'm going to do, and I hope you enjoy the efforts.

But now I'm going to relate this to writing. As in just about everything in life, the copycats are never as good as the original. The first. The only one people really think about. (There are obviously exceptions, but we're not dealing with those today.)

Think Harry Potter and all the knockoffs that tried so hard to capture the magic that J.K. Rowling created. They couldn't do it.

Don't think that success will come as a writer by copying the big trend. Be original. Be your self. That's where true success comes. Trust your instincts and mold all of your outside influences into something truly you.

Timing

So, it seems another book project has come to steal the place of another. Jessamine did that a few months ago, but she was written in three weeks, so it wasn't too much of an imposition. This time, it's a new book I'm calling Indomitable. I've already gotten 4,000+ words done in two days, which I think is rather good.

The thing is, writing is really about timing. It has to be the right time to write a certain book. I think a lot of cases of writer's block come because a project needs to sit a bit longer and percolate in your brain just a little while longer.

Yes, there are times to force yourself to write a book and just get the blasted thing done. But then there are those times where, if you haven't written a thing in weeks, maybe it's time to work on something else that sparks your interest. Writing isn't really about forcing the words to come. More, it's about accepting them when they're ready.

So Fractured will have to sit for a time until she's ready to speak to me more. In the meantime, I'm hoping to whip out another story a la Jessamine. I do have to say, writing fantasy teen romance books is just a lot of fun.

Focus . . . focus

I sometimes have to tell myself that, and frequently. Why? Because I get easily distracted.

Ooh! Shiny object!

So what were we talking about? Oh, yeah. Focus, as in, I need to focus my energies and not go beating about trying to do everything at once.

My problem? I have so many interests and so many ideas buzzing around my head. By the time one gets planted in there, I have another even shinier idea that comes along, supplanting the first.

Lately, though, I've been learning a little about focusing my energies. That's been an essential topic for me these past few weeks. I have three great projects I'm in the middle of right now, but I had to chose the one I find most pertinent to complete. I'll finish this one, and then move onto another. Simple? Not always, but it works for me.

I've also learned the importance of setting goals to help in accomplishing that task so I don't burn out too quickly before the task is completed. My latest goal? Completing Fractured by the time my next writer's conference happens in late August. (And if you're in the Utah area, you can find the deets here.)

So tell me, how do you focus your writing?

Organizational skillz

I got tired of staring at endless piles of manuscripts at home, trying to find which notebook I wrote what story in. So this weekend I went on an organizing spree and bought several items to make my writing life easier. And who can say no to purple?

My own weakness

In my last blog post, I discussed weaknesses in characters and how important it is to have them. Well, I have them too, and it's not as fun having them as writing them for another character. My weakness? Impatience.

I want everything now and don't want to put in the requisite time and effort to accomplish those tasks. I want things to come easily.

The reason I bring this up is because a good friend taught me this lesson this morning. She didn't realize she was doing it, but I appreciate her teaching it to me all the same.

I've written two books now. The first one I had queried and gotten some positive feedback, but people weren't loving the book enough. A friend just read the whole thing and gave me her comments. The important thing is that she did it in a loving, caring way.

Now I'm going back through the book with her comments in mind, and I see exactly what she means. And I'm also realizing that my impatience has hindered me, yet again.

Agents and editors love to give the advice to let a book sit for a few months, and then go back to it before even thinking of querying agents with it. Well, I was impatient and didn't do that. I haven't completely shot myself in the foot because of this, but it's come pretty close.

I wanted to be the exception, the person who could write a book in a few weeks, edit in a few more, and then get an agent very quickly soon after. To be honest, I'm not at that point yet. I'm still learning, and that's okay.

So the plan right now is to go back and fix book one (Surviving Eden) while putting book two (Jessamine) in the freezer for a bit.

I know Surviving Eden isn't the book that's going to get me an agent, but I need to learn the process of revising and editing my own work if I'm to do an even better job of it the second time around.

I'm stubborn, and so some lessons have to come the hard way. The most important ones, really. Take it from me, learn the easy way. It's much better for the sanity.

Flawed

Being sick with the swine flu this week has given me extra time for movie watching, something I haven't taken the time to do in awhile with work and writing.

While I enjoy movies for the sake of watching, my analytical brain was on overdrive for some reason and I started noticing trends and patterns in some of the most popular movies and stories. Then I wondered why that was.

Just this afternoon, Superman was saving the world again. Superman is . . . well, he's not human, he's nearly perfect physically, and yet . . . yet he's not perfect. He's flawed. Not as a character, mind you, but as an individual. For a character, he's exactly what one wants and needs. Someone strong, good looking, a good person trying to right the world's wrongs. But he is flawed.

Around Lois, he's a complete dork, at least in the persona of Clark Kent. He acts utterly human and makes the same mistakes that people have made for centuries when dealing with members of the opposite sex. And then there's that whole kryptonite thing. A little stone can debilitate a super-human power and kill a superman.

I'm coming to see that it is the flaws and not necessarily the strengths that make a character, well, strong in a story. Take, for instance, Luke Skywalker. (As you're probably noting, I was really having a movie marathon week.) He is a headstrong kid who wants to save the world. And yet for all his youthful idealism, he has the same weakness as his father—hate. It is what nearly undoes him, and yet that tension, that internal conflict is what makes the story interesting and relatable.

People want to see weakness in their favorite characters because it makes them human and makes them like us. It's an unconscious liking, but it has an effect on the way we tell stories.

Name for me a character from a truly popular movie who doesn't have flaws. Okay, go. Really, start naming them. Do you have one yet? No?

There have been stories with characters who are practically perfect in every way, but it's hard to name one from a popular book or movie. It's because those characters aren't like the rest of humanity—frail and flawed. People don't want to relate to someone who is too perfect. First, it's unrealistic, but second, it's just boring. Even Achilles had his heel.

As readers and viewers, we want to see someone who is flawed overcome their weakness because that means that we, as flawed individuals can overcome our weaknesses too.

It's making me wonder if my characters are weak enough to be strong. How about yours? Are you making them too perfect and therefore unrelatable?

Back in the saddle again . . .

Yes, I do think of blog titles in song. It's often the first thing that comes to me.

Anyway, this week has been momentous (for me at least) in that I've decided my book is about as ready as I can get it. This means QUERYING! Yep, I've started again, and it's such an exciting feeling. Even those first few rejections have a power to them, knowing that I'm out there doing what I need to be doing.

I won't bore you with query stats this time around, but just know that I'm busy doing everything I can to get Jessamine published. And the reason for that, my friends, can be found in last week's post. I want to get Jessamine published so she can be read, so the story can really come to life. I love it to much to let it sit in a box.

So watch out world, I'm coming!

Creative Reading 201

Author Tracy Hickman (best known for the Dragon Lance books) gave a speech tonight as part of the BYU writers conference I've been attending this week. His words struck me so powerfully that I want to share the message with you as well as my thoughts on what this means for me and my writing.

Creative Reading 201:
An exploration of the reader as the author's partner in creation.

Story=meaning

No book lives until it is read. The reader partners in the experience in creating the written word. How that works is that the writer places symbols on a piece of paper, and the reader later comes along and interprets those symbols and make them come to life.

The meaningful experience in all literature takes place in the white space between the words. Minds connect the dots and fill in the blanks. It is what the reader interprets the words to mean, how they are personal, that creates a meaningful experience.

Literature is an art form where the final performance takes place while the original artist is not present. He cited an example from Stephen King's book On Writing. The experience of reading is like time travel back to when the author sat down at his desk and wrote it. They are experiencing the same things in one moment, even though those moments may be separated by years from when the author first wrote the book.

*It does not matter if you are published. Anyone can be published by ordering a copy of their book off Lulu. What matters is that you are read. It matters that your words come to life. Your words are dead until they are picked up by someone else.

We all read the same words, but what we bring to the story from our own experience makes it unique. It is the reader not the writer who creates the meaningful experience of the written word.

The only constant in the world is change. We're always moving forward, backward, or staying stagnant, but we are always moving in a direction. If we aren't moving forward, we are regressing and losing some of the knowledge we had. What we experience while reading a book cannot but help us change.

*Creation is more than knowing. It's doing something with what you know to change the world.

Tracy then shared a story about a soldier in Afghanistan who had read the Dragon Lance books and loved them. He took them with him as he was stationed so far from home. One day while on duty, he was shot in the back. The young soldier thought in that instant of what one character in the books would have done and he decided to act accordingly. Standing up even though his back was shattered, he warned his comrades and saved twelve lives that day.

I can't imagine that I'll ever have such a dramatic experience, but it still struck me that writing and books and stories can be so powerful when you touch a reader's life with your words.

Now for what this means to me. Today I was having a little mini crisis with my writing. Even though I've had close to 75 glowing comments from people who've read the first few chapters and loved the voice, and even though I've had two people read the whole thing and tell me they absolutely loved it, I started to doubt myself. I won't go into the reasons why, but let's just say I was feeling really down about my ability to write a book that I can actually get published.

And then I sat down to listen to Tracy speak, and I realized how selfish I was being. I was thinking of myself as the writer and not thinking of the reader. All I have to do is my very best with this book, and then I hand it over to the reader who will take that and create. There is something so incredibly powerful about that.

Really, that's why I started writing. I wanted to make a difference in people's lives—even if for just one person. I wanted to touch them, however briefly. But in all the hustle and bustle of "getting published" I forgot that.

So I am incredibly grateful for the lesson I learned tonight: I'm not in this by myself. It's a partnership I have with the readers. It doesn't matter if only two people ever read my whole book as long as it affects them, even if only for the entertainment value.

I don't know that I'll ever affect anyone's life so powerfully that they chose to save others' lives at risk to their own, but I hope that someone somewhere is better because of reading something that I write.

Graduating

Up late tonight for reasons I won't go into (other than to say my mouth loves Indian food. Other parts of me . . . not so much). Anyway, while I'm sitting here wide awake, I was thinking about the first day of my writers conference. And the biggest feeling I have from it is that I've graduated.

Not in the traditional sense with a cap and gown, but more that I've moved on from the beginning stages of being a writer. A year ago, I'd never been to a conference and didn't know much about finding an agent or even how to edit my book, really. However, this has been an intensive year for me in many ways. I've put myself through my own writing boot camp.

It started with a conference last August put on by author Shannon Hale, and it really opened my eyes to what it meant being a writer. Before that, I'd been working on my book for nearly four years and was only halfway done. After getting a taste of the writing life, though, I was addicted. I wanted to know more and do more.

Within a month I found out about Authonomy, a writing peer review site (among other things). I made some wonderful friends and received invaluable feedback on my first manuscript. That gave me the impetus to finish the dang book so I could go on to editing the thing.

Then came another writers conference in November, this time with SCBWI, and this time also involving agents and editors from New York. I got some one-on-one time with an agent and received more valuable feedback.

Soon after I finished several rounds of edits on my ms and began querying. I went through another boot camp of sorts learning about agents and the querying process. I should say I was rather successful for a first book that took four years to write considering I'm still waiting to hear back from four agents who've requested the manuscript.

And now, six months later, I've written another book, this one in three weeks. Through the laborious process of writing that initiall took me four years, I learned some incredible lessons about how to write. Or, more importantly, how I write.

So, that brings me back to the writers conference today. As I sat there listening to the presenters going over information I'd learned nine months ago, and people asking the editors questions I knew all the answers to, I realized I've graduated from the stage of beginning writer. Oh, there are still plenty of things I've yet to learn, but I really feel that I've gained enough experience that I can't call myself a beginning writer. I'm moving well onto intermediate, even possibly toward advanced.

The moral of this story: writing and editing are about the doing. As Martha Mahalick, editor at Greenwillow, said today, editing is something you learn by experience. You gain knowledge by working with a mentor who shows you the ropes and guides you as you move along. Writing is exactly the same. First you have to write, and then you can get needed feedback on your writing. But you will never learn unless you start doing.

So writers, get out there. Learn by experience and from the experiences of others. Keep moving forward and someday you'll get to the point where you feel like you've graduated from being one tinkering with writing to being a real writer. And that is a wonderful realization.

My writing place

Isn't it perfect?

Get ’er done

Epiphany: Last night I realized that I'm spinning my wheels a bit trying to write the sequel when I should be polishing up the first book so I can start querying.

What this means: It's back to the grind for me, spending every free moment I have working on revising and rewriting my book. If I push myself a bit, I can get the first revision done in a few weeks, and then spend time fine-tuning from there. After revising the first four chapter last night, I realized that what I've got is pretty good, in that I need to fill in places, but it won't take as long as I'd imagined earlier.

That said, you can expect me to return to my cave for the next few months, emerging for social interaction on occasion but more or less working steadfastly on achieving my dream.

Wish me luck! Or, maybe it would be better if you wished me stamina instead.

(Im)patience

I sometimes wonder why I gave up the fast-paced world of journalism for the publishing industry. That thought usually only lasts for a few seconds because I got very burnt out of doing things so quickly. But there was one aspect I loved of writing stories for the newspaper: you got it written in a matter of hours and your readership had it in their hands the next day.

Books, though. Oh, books. They are the love of my life, but they take so long to produce.When I was a child, and even a teen (really up until I started writing my first book in college), I never thought I'd have the patience and stamina to write a full-length book. Even a short 200-page one. Hah. I've written about 300 pages in one book, 200 in another, and am still going on others.

Gladly, I proved myself wrong, but the base worry there wasn't that I couldn't do it. It was that I wouldn't want to do it repeatedly. I thought poems, short stories, newspaper articles were the thing because I could see the accomplishment almost immediately.

So why would this be a problem? Because every time I walk into a bookstore, I pine, I crave to see my books on the shelf. No, that isn't strong enough to express what I feel. In Spanish there's a phrase—tengo ganas—almost like I need to see my book on the shelf. The reason? To see something that I've accomplished, something tangible, something I can hold. For all the hours I've spent thinking about my characters, writing and rewriting and editing, I want something to show for it.

Now, I know it's not going to kill me to wait for publication of my books. I'll keep moving forward and working on my latest project. But if you tell me that it's going to take 3 long years at the soonest before I see one of my books in print, then I may very well have to strangle you. And I would probably give up.

Here's the thing, though. Even though agents, editors, other writers, and just about everyone else will tell you that it will probably take a long time before I get my lucky break, in my heart I don't believe them. I really think I will be published sooner rather than later. And that—that—is what keeps me going. If I didn't feel that way, if I knew this was going to be a long, laborious process before I saw some fruits of my labors, I probably wouldn't do it.

So if you think you need to tell me that it's going to take 5 years before I ever get an agent, I'm going to politely ignore you and believe what I want. It's the only way I'll keep myself going, and with my spirits up.

It will happen for me, and soon. I believe it, and so it must be true.

Snow

Well, in another attempt to write out some frustrations, I stumbled upon an ambitious project. It will take quite some thought and effort to get it right, but it has promise.

I've got too many of these stories stacking up in my brain, though, all of them clamoring for my attention. One at a time, my dears. You'll all have your chance.

Below is what I've written so far, and the first person who can tell me where this is going wins a virtual cookie. (But please remember, it's a very rough draft.)

Snow

Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub.

She could feel it pumping, beneath her skin, beneath her breast.

Lub dub. Lub dub.

Her heart squeezed and contracted, sending blood through her veins and out onto the icy pavement beneath her. She was surrounded by the red aura of her own blood.

Lub dub.

The car that had backed over her was long gone. When would they come? Sirens sounded in the distance, and she knew there wouldn’t be time for her. But for the child. Her child.

Lub . . .

———

Heather Winslow was born precisely at midnight, taken from her mother’s womb though the woman who had incubated her now lay cold in the morgue. Grieving over a dead wife, John barely noticed the utter paleness of the newborn’s skin and the black mat of hair on her head. But he did see that the ruby lips of the babe looked as though tainted by blood.

He called her Heather, after her mother. But no one called her that. She was always known as Snow.

———

(I'm also thinking that Snow will be joined by a few friends, among them Rorie, Ellie, Essa, and Zelle. Solve those riddles if you can. And as has been the case of late, their stories are rather dark.)

Tell me your story, Christine

There's a story lurking about my brain. I was driving home tonight from a party, alone, darkness all around. I've long thought one of the scariest things that could ever happen would be to sit in the driver's seat of your car and have a hand grab you from behind. I've spent many a breathless moment checking the back of the car before turning it on. Call me a hypochondriac, but it scares me.

As I checked the back seat tonight, something was there, in the shadows waiting for my tired brain to notice. The first inklings of a story, wanting to come out of hiding. Problem is, it's still there, on the edges of my consciousness, not yet ready to form into coherent thoughts.

In this story, the girl, her name is Christine. I heard a song on the radio about a Christine as I pulled onto my street. It fit. That's her name. But the man in the back seat, him I'm not too sure about. I don't think he's human—at least not completely. I don't think he's all bad, either. He calls her name, softly, gently, to catch her attention as he wraps his hand around her mouth. She must be silent, but I'm not sure why. Who is after her? This man wants to help, to stop something, but that something . . . is . . . what?

Therein is the problem. I know her. She's a poor college student, frustrated after a day waitressing and ready to cry herself to sleep. Only a few more months in school and she'll be done, ready to find a real job with real money and respect. But this man, this thing in her backseat, he's going to interrupt that, I just don't know how.

For me, this is how stories start. The first inklings in the brain, a tickle, almost, of my waking thoughts by something deeper, more primal. People and things inhabit these recesses of my brain, filtering out in a trickle at times, or in torrents at others. Some characters are shyer than others. Not in the traditional sense, but in that they tell me their story slowly, not wanting me to get too close. Not yet.

I have too many of these stories, floating about in my brain. Too many to put them all to words. So I listen to the loudest, the ones who are begging the most to get out. I keep notes on the others, letting them have a few words until it's there turn.

Christine, now I think she's going to be a hard one for me. I can see her, crying in the car, leaning her forehead against the steering wheel moments before the hand covers her mouth and yanks her back against the seat. I can see her, but I can't see him, and I don't know him. Until I do, she's going to float at the back of my mind.

It may well be that she'll speak to me as I drift off to sleep. Or when I'm writing to get my frustrations out, as Jessamine did. Or when I'm eager to put a story to words, as Sarah did. Or when I need to express my darkness, as Patience did. Or when I want adventure in my life, as Cara has been doing.

They're all women, yes I realize this. It's because I seek for strong women in my life. I want to be a strong woman. So if I can imbue my characters with love, strength, humor, and persistence, maybe I'll have some of those qualities in my life as well. I can hope.

It's late now, and though I have found inspiration when fatigued, tonight is not the night that Christine will speak to me. Maybe soon, but unfortunately, her story may have to wait until I've finished telling Jessamine's. But if Christine will tell it quickly and keep it short, I may be able to purge her story from my life and put it to paper. There she will haunt me still, but only as the specter of a story that has been told and that now is clamoring for an audience.

In defense of criticism

It's hard to hear that you're not perfect, that your writing needs work and that you could do better—much better. But, honestly, that what we all need to hear, at one time or another. As we all work toward the end goal of getting published, improvement is what we should all strive for. And yet, there is definitely a place for support, encouragement, and pats on the back.

So where do we find such support and criticism, all rolled up into one? In my experience, it comes from other writers, from those who understand the difficulties and who keep trucking along despite the discouragement.

I've found writers support groups (aka critique groups) both online and in the real world. I wouldn't say that one is necessarily better than the other because they both provide an essential ingredient for writing—help.

The first writing support I ever received was from an online group of authors at Authonomy. Before that, I had even been afraid to mention to people who knew me that I actually was a writer, though many guessed it.

But the most important lessons I learned from those writers didn't necessarily have to do with the mechanics of writing, though they certainly helped with that. More, it was good to know that others struggled with writing as much as I did, that they weren't sure how to take character A from point D to the end at point Z. That they had to work and struggle to find time to write, and that sometimes their spouses weren't completely supportive of their efforts.

I made friends—some of whom will be lifelong, I hope—with the same interests as myself and who taught me how to be a writer.

Another important part of what I learned was how to critique others' work in a productive and humane manner. I learned to give as well as I took, and in the process, I could see mistakes that I made just as much as the person I was correcting. Being an editor, I've learned this over and again: learning how to pick out mistakes as well as good points in others' writing makes me a better writer when I incorporate those lessons into my own work.

I participated in that online writing forum for a good six months, but the time then came for me to move on. So instead of closeting myself with my writing, I decided to join a new critique group that was forming in my area.

We meet every three weeks, and as we get together, we share not only our writing, but also our lives and dreams and hopes as writers, and as people. It is different sitting around a table reading aloud to others and hearing them give comments on what I could improve or what they like. There is an intimacy in sharing your words aloud with people who are quickly becoming friends.

The reason I bring this up at all is because of a tiny suggestion someone made during our writing group last night. After I had finished reading from my newest book, someone remarked that maybe I should think of fleshing out the story even more and including a book at the beginning of what has become a two-part series. I didn't like the idea much last night, but as I think of it more today, I'm realizing the potential in that idea.

In another writing lifetime, if I hadn't had someone to tell me that, I very well may have written the story only to struggle finding an agent because it wasn't quite right. The story didn't begin where it should have; there was more of the tale to tell. It might have taken me much longer to realize this on my own, but because I had another writer critique my work, they set a tiny spark of an idea in my head that will hopefully become an even greater story than what I had before.

So my advice to all writers is to find other writers with whom you can share your work. Critique as a group or individually, but listen to what they tell you, even if you don't want to hear it at first. That is one of the best ways we can learn and grow as writers, and it is also one of the best ways to motivate ourselves to keep writing and improve upon our craft.

Writing can be a very solitary act, but when we include others in our work, it becomes something even greater. And although support from family and spouses is good, they might not be as completely honest in their assessment of our work as another writer who understands what it means to put words to the page. Seek other writers out. I promise, you'll benefit immensely from it.

Flashy fiction

Well, I got bored tonight, and as it often happens when I'm bored, I turned to the Internet to entertain me. This night it was Twitter that saved the evening with a fun little exercise in very, very flash fiction.

In essence, we told stories using 140 characters or less, per Twitter. I know it's not a new thing, but I find it a great skill to write succinctly.

The most famous of the succinct fiction would have to be Hemingway's six-word story:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

It is rather intriguing to put a story into so few words. Here are a few that we came up with tonight:

The plane landed, no one to greet her. Walking the tarmac, she knew what it was to be alone for the first time and for the rest of her life. —me

Cool, crisp and sweetly exotic. One satisfying bite and she had brought damnation upon the world. —me

You were just bitten by a laptop?" He asked.."I guess you'll have to go home and crash now." So I did, and lost my memory." —HECurtis_author

She threw the spatula, glaring as It quivered where it stuck in the wall. Tears dripped as she searched the empty cupboards —Cassidy_McKay

We held hands for the first time while staring into the abyss. You kissed my cheek whispering, “This is how the world ends.” —jimmyjacobson

What are your very short stories?


Edit: Our next very flash fiction day will be this Saturday, April 25. Sharpen your wits and join us at the #tinyfic hashtag on Twitter. Need help joining Twitter? Leave me a comment and I'll give you a tutorial.

Worlds collide

In our new-fangled, sparkly world of instant communication, lines tend to blur. I'm starting to notice that blurring in my own life as I participate in several forms of social networking.

During the daytime, I'm a nonfiction book editor. I like my job; it's fulfilling taking someone's words and polishing them up a little brighter and making beautiful books. I don't Twitter or Facebook during the day so I can focus on the work at hand. (With the minor exception of checking messages during lunch, and maybe responding to a few.)

At night, I write YA fiction books, and it's something I'm very passionate about. Often I spend my evening hours writing, editing, and networking with other writers and publishing professionals online.

But I also have a social life (sort of). I have friends, roommates, and family, all of whom I keep up with on Facebook because it's easy to see what people are doing and to send a quick note saying hi. (I also talk to them in real time, but for the purpose of this discussion, I do communicate with them frequently online.)

And now that it's known that I'm an editor on Twitter, I am starting to get a following interested in knowing about the publishing world as well.

My problem? I use the same social networking sites to communicate with these four different groups of people. This is where the blurring comes in. Because I want my friends and family to find me, I use my real name, and since co-workers and authors I edit know my name, they find me the same way.

For a time I used a pseudonym for my writing to keep these different aspects of my life separate. But now that I'm querying agents and seeking to have my writing published, I decided to use my real name for this as well. This is where the blurring becomes more of a tangled web.

This morning, another aspect of my lines crossed as a well-known querying website posted a list with my name and company on it. (I'm not upset, just rather surprised that they found that information.) I'd tried to keep where I worked private because I was worried about the additional blurring. Since it is now out of my control, I'll have to make sure that those lines don't compete with others.

In some ways it's fun to have all the aspects of my life in a few places that are easy for me to check, but it can be a big headache in other ways. When I tweet, I do so more about my personal life and my writing.

How do I juggle all these things without upsetting one group or another? I'm not sure. I'm testing these potentially tempestuous waters for the first time, as are many. There are some very vocal writers who don't like knowing anything personal about the agents or editors they follow on Twitter; they're following to get industry information and don't want to hear that they have personal lives as well.

Lines are crossing, blurring, and twisting with all these new social media. It can be tough making sure that everyone is pleased, but you're not going to be able to do it perfectly all the time. People will get upset. And if I've upset anyone with the blurring of my own lines, I do apologize. But at this point, I'm going to keep moving forward because I see a lot of benefit from participating in social media.

That said, I don't tweet specifics about work; I don't really tweet about work at all. If I do post anything related to editing, it will be knowledge I've learned without giving specific examples. My authors trust me not to divulge information about them or their work, and I'm not going to betray that trust. (And if any of the authors I work with are worried after reading this post, please call or email me and we can discuss.)

I will tweet about my personal life, though I try to keep the mundane out of it as much as possible. Knowing me, though, some of it is likely to slip in.

And my writing will be a good part of what I share, especially as I go through the same process of querying and writing and revising as so many other authors out there.

So this is my way of telling my Twitter followers and anyone I know personally that I don't share information that is not mine to share. You needn't worry. And if you ever feel like I've crossed one of these lines, let me know. I'd rather clear the air than let anything languish.

(And just so everyone knows, I'm writing this at home, sick. I was pondering it a lot since I've nothing else to do of at the moment, but I don't want anyone to think I'm neglecting work.)

A needed break

So I went camping this weekend and was fully prepared to write my life away with laptop and modes of charging said laptop and notebooks in case said laptop decided it didn't want to charge. But when I got there, I had no desire to write. Instead, I was content to sit around the fire and talk with my family and enjoy being outside.

I have two thoughts on what this could mean: a) I needed a short break from the frenzied pace I've been writing the past few weeks, or b) I've lost my mojo/writing juices/stamina.

Now it very well could be a combination of the two, but I'm leaning more toward option a. The reason for that is sometimes when I get excited about a project, I tend to go full-speed-ahead no matter what else may be in the way. I tend to be a hyper-focused person who likes to charge in and get things done. When I get an itch to write, I don't like it when people interrupt that. It really annoys me, in fact.

But life has a way of interrupting my plans, and that usually involves me wearing myself out to the point where I get sick. I've been feeling really worn out since January when I started getting stomach bugs and the full-fledged flu, but still I pressed on with my various writing projects. Even when I started getting sick a few weeks ago, I kept at my writing efforts.

This single-mindedness can get things done, but it can also be a detriment to my already-precarious health. Besides, I was getting stuck as to what my characters were to do immediately, anyway, so a little time and distance can help move things along.

I'm definitely going to jump back into writing starting tomorrow, but I think writers in general can benefit from taking a break and completely forgetting what the latest writing project is. We get so wrapped up in our imaginary worlds, we sometimes forget that there is a real one surrounding us that needs our attention as well.

So, the point of all this is that I'm pretty sure I haven't lost anything other than time in my little break and have instead gained some sanity and needed distance and perspective on the whole project.