It occurred to me how solitary writing is (not a new concept by any means) and how much this can lead to the idea that we're all floating around out here, alone, typing up stories by ourselves.
You should just know: you're not alone.
No, I can't write your shit for you, and you can't write my shit for me, and a critique group can't make something work that isn't working, BUT you're a part of a collection of other alone people who work like you, and that should mean something.
Other writers all over the world sit around: alone. We think up stories by ourselves and draw them out of the air on our own.
(Don't confuse alone with lonely.)
I like to think when I'm by myself typing away that aside from the characters which keep me company during these hours, that there are a lot of other writers also committing themselves to this alone time. As I'm writing and chipping away at a plot, so are a hundred or thousand other writers in that same moment and we're actively creating something in the world that didn't exist before.
We're not alone at all even though we write in different cities, states, or continents, but this is our office; an office for one.
So, when your hair is ripped out and the coffee cup is empty save for the sticky residue ring along the inside, and you can't force characters to move that aren't meant to walk, while we're not there with you, we're all here for you. We're all here -- writing.
Share your thoughts in the comments section below.
How to Know Your Work is Ready for Submission
When it comes down to being a writer, if you aren't wholly in it for the joy and pain of fiction, there is inevitably a time when you must submit your work. Whether to a publication, an agent, or a publisher, your writing, your flesh and blood final draft versions of stories that fell out of your head, have to leave the nest and you have to watch from the front door and see if they have wings. But how do you know your stories, novels, essays, poems are ready?
Mistake #124 Not Following Your Heart
I'm a fairly regular reader to the blog What Not To Do As a Writer written by the ever talented and sailor-mouthed Lisa Kilian. On her blog she lists all of the possible mistakes a writer can/could/will make, some of which we've all learned by experience. Lisa's blog has been one of the few voices on the internet to speak to other writers and admit that on some days: it all sucks, and on other days: you suck.
This week she posted that she's "going rogue" and no longer going to update her site anymore, although nothing will be taken down. Her life and dreams are leading her in another direction and I think I'd like to tip my hat to her and say, in tribute, that Mistake #124 should be Not Following Your Heart.
This week she posted that she's "going rogue" and no longer going to update her site anymore, although nothing will be taken down. Her life and dreams are leading her in another direction and I think I'd like to tip my hat to her and say, in tribute, that Mistake #124 should be Not Following Your Heart.
Remembering What This Writing Thing is All About
I just wanted to share something with you real quick and I'm not even going to count it as my "weekly" (I use this term loosely) post. I really like author Ann Patchett, especially "The Patron Saint of Liars." Her stories work for me and her style of writing resonates with me most of the time. A few days ago I happened to see in my library's catalog that she had a non-fiction book called "What Now?" which is a commencement speech she gave.
Creating a Story Outline
I like to write as a mix of planned plotting (outlines) and discovery writing. I may know what's going to happen next in a general sense, but the details come during the writing of the scene. I might know what one character will say, for sure, 100%, and will have written the quote down on a scrap of paper, but I might not know what the other character's reaction will be, not entirely anyway.
Changing the Endings of Stories
A few months ago I submitted a short story to my critique group. A sorrowful tale, really, about a simple man alone in his house waiting for his family to return home. While everyone agreed they liked the story and successfully pointed and laughed as they ripped out my had-s, was-s, started to-s, and look-s, the majority of the group also pointed my attention to a plot element I placed in the center of the story. This detail, they said, held my ending. But how could that be, obviously it showed itself in the center of the story?
The 5 Question Test: Are you are writer, or aren't you?
Recently, I've had the honor to see how far I have come as a writer and I have to say, it's really trippy.
In a few separate occasions I had conversations with other writers who were either beginners or writers who've been at this game longer than I, but are apparently a touch more resistant to change. In each of these situations it occurred to me that I have come so far since my early days of writing horrible slop (and thinking it could be huge), that I probably would shred my old self to bits in a workshop with everything I've learned over time and with experience. (To be clear, even in my old college workshop days I loved being told what was wrong with my writing because it felt like progress.)
In a few separate occasions I had conversations with other writers who were either beginners or writers who've been at this game longer than I, but are apparently a touch more resistant to change. In each of these situations it occurred to me that I have come so far since my early days of writing horrible slop (and thinking it could be huge), that I probably would shred my old self to bits in a workshop with everything I've learned over time and with experience. (To be clear, even in my old college workshop days I loved being told what was wrong with my writing because it felt like progress.)
Your Literary Shelf Life
I have an assignment for you. One that takes you away from the screen you're in front of right now (you know, the box where your friends are?) and sends you out into the world. Don't worry this won't be hard and I'll even ease you, calm your nerves, pat your little head while I tell you a story about me. If you want a story about someone else, so somewhere else. Right?
But this is about me and you, mostly me, but also mostly you. I'm worried about my literary shelf life and I don't know that you've even thought about yours. Now, that's not to say I think I'm tough shit or anything, and I'm not talking about those 15 minutes of fame everyone else has. I'm talking about your works' actual, physical, and very real life on the shelf.
But this is about me and you, mostly me, but also mostly you. I'm worried about my literary shelf life and I don't know that you've even thought about yours. Now, that's not to say I think I'm tough shit or anything, and I'm not talking about those 15 minutes of fame everyone else has. I'm talking about your works' actual, physical, and very real life on the shelf.
Writing on the Road
I'm just a few days away from a beautiful vacation that is long overdue. We're going to one of my most favorite spots in the world for the standard rest and relaxation where we play outside, eat, read, chat, swim in the ocean, play board games, do art, and cook together as a family and I love this time. There also is no phone, television, or Internet. In my opinion, this is the stuff dreams are made of. A Story of Revision
I have this little story that only a handful of people have read. All in all, everyone agrees there's something good going on here, but I couldn't seem to put my finger on what wasn't working. The character was solid, a little narrative heavy, but only one guy is seen in the story, so I let that slide. I just didn't have a sense of where to take this ball of 90% and turn it into 100%. So, then I submitted it to my critique group. Like a white flag going up in a war zone, they spotted the issue and immediately everyone in the group recognized the problem. I had the story's beginning, middle, end, but I had jumbled it up and a portion I felt was middle material, they unanimously agreed belonged as the hook at the end.
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