Taking Ali's Challenge Plus

Fred, a member of the Sunday Group, passed away over the weekend as the result of a stroke and the complications that followed. He was a highly intelligent, funny, odd and just plain nice man. Ali's May Challenge is in Fred's honor. It is simply to learn something new just for the pleasure of learning.

One of the last times I spoke with Fred was right after I read Dante's Inferno. Although I stated that I understood how it had stood the test of time and the artistry and craft that went into writing it (see post in archives), the mere fact that I didn't enjoy it appalled Fred. He seemed to take it as a personal affront. So, in Fred's honor, I will finish The Divine Comedy this summer. I also picked up a copy of the Poetic Eddas and will read them over the summer as well.

Rest well, Fred.

The Merry Merry Month

I don't know that anything uber-special has ever happened to me in May, but if I were to name a favorite month, I think May would be it. It's usually a pretty month. Trees and flowers are budding, the grass is turning green (before it dies in June when I fail to water it), the birds are chirping, etc. etc. It's a transitional month, and I like the transitional seasons. It might be interesting to go back and see if I am more or less productive in May.

The goals for this month are posted at the side. I've added a couple more things this month. The first is to write Morning Pages daily. Which is how they are supposed to be done, but I have been slacking off big time. I know I write more when I do my Morning Pages. It could be that they really work. It could be that Julia Cameron has completely brainwashed me. I don't care. They do the job. When I can get all the gunk down on the page--the page that is meant for the gunk--I don't have to deal with it when it's time to actually write. So Pages daily again.

The second unusual entry is to practice banjo at least twice a week. This is another creativity booster. It's fun, even though I have to work at it. It's creative, but in a different way. While it takes time and patience to improve, I am at least good enough to plunk out a recognizable tune or strum chords that I can sing along with. In other words, instant gratification. Writing does give a tangible result--"I wrote 10 pages today!"--but it's a tangible result that can't readily be evaluated. I may think it's brilliant, but it might be veering off into a deadend direction or fails to move the story at all. Or I can think it stinks, but then realize after the whole thing is done that this was the pivotal moment in the story. With music, it's ephemeral but immediate.

I'm also going to start the cleanup of TNN for submission in July (I think it's July, we're doing some rejiggering). In any case, I don't want to wait until the last minute. So we're getting that party started.

So, is there something you can do that's fun and creative but has nothing to do with writing? How about giving it a try this month?

Taking My Own Advice

So, yesterday I packed up my bag with a couple different notebooks and journals and headed to It's A Grind for what Ali calls out-of-the-house pages. I was disappointed at first because the place was packed with Sunday after church and Sunday not so much church people. Only one table left and that one in the middle of the room. But I slung my bag into a chair to hold it and went off to order my coffee.

A few minutes later, I was so deep into my Morning Pages I almost missed the woman bringing me my triple Nutty Cow (hazelnut latte). Finished morning pages and pulled out a very pretty journal that I hadn't written in since last October. That surprised me. I think about that book all the time, but it seems that thinking about writing really isn't writing (Neil Gaiman was right). I looked around the coffee shop, wondering what to write about. I hadn't brought any prompts with me and couldn't think of any that sounded interesting. Then I spotted a guy who bore a slight resemblance to Stephen Fry, the actor and King of Twitter. That was all it took. Several pages later, I had what could turn out to be a fun short story with a little work.

As I sipped my coffee and looked out at the beautiful Colorado day, a woman sitting by the window asked me, "Are you writing a book or just writing for yourself?" "Both actually." We chatted for a while. She's from Michigan, too, not far from where I grew up. Then off to King Soopers for some healthy-ish food for the week.

When I got home, I took my bag into the writing room, pulled out the draft of MMG and started on rewrites. I had fun with them for the first time in a while. Actually liked what I was producing. Seventeen pages that sound like me. Not like a pale imitation.

I rock.

Shortcuts Make Long Delays

As you may have noticed, many of my friends are writers. Very talented writers. The links for some of them are at the left (in the current template anyway). And they all work at their craft to make it better. Some are at the point of putting their babies in front of agents.

One friend recently entered a contest with a big prize--publication by a major publishing house. Pretty cool, huh? This friend made it through the first cut but did not make it to the last round. Bummer. And I would be bummed, too. Think about all the steps you could skip just by winning this contest.

That's the dream, isn't it. Not having to do the slog. You know the one. The seemingly endless querying of agents. Realizing after you hit the on the email to Agent A that you've left in the opening paragraph that relates to Agent Z. Getting rejection after rejection. Then a request for pages. Which turns into a rejection. Lather, rinse, repeat. Then finally getting the agent only to have to go through it all again with editors.

It's why we go to conferences and put ourselves through pitch sessions. Or join social networking groups in order to maybe possibly meet Agent J (or his cousin) or Editor M (or her mother's neighbor's best friend's daughter). Anything to get us closer to the person who will say yes without all the other nonsense. And it's why we enter contests.

But I'm beginning to suspect that writing is like other things in life. Most of us have to do the slog. Write. Rewrite. Rewrite again. Query. Submit. Query. Submit. And while you're querying and submitting, you're also writing and rewriting other things.

The only shortcut I see is to keep writing through the disappointments. Because if we let each and every setback stop the process for a few days or a month or a year (and that has happened to more than one of us), then it just becomes a longer and harder slog. With the feeling that even more is on the line. The little successes can interrupt the flow, too. Oooh, Agent S asked for a full. I'm going to send it off and celebrate by not writing anything until I hear back, because she might want some big revisions and I want to be waiting by the phone. Uh huh.

Maybe the biggest revelation in all of this is that, for me, the writing has to be an end in and of itself. Maybe that needs to be the goal. Not nabbing an agent. Not getting published. Writing. Just for the sheer joy and necessity of it. Publication can be the extra sprinkles on top. Because if I don't love the writing, why am I doing this? There are easier ways to make a buck. Other things I enjoy doing in my free time. And focusing too much on that end of things can make me forget why I started doing this in the first place. Because I love putting one word after the other and seeing what they create.

Not that I don't want the sprinkles.

And whipped cream.

And maybe a cherry.

Synchronicity Again

I've been having a rough couple of weeks. Nothing major. No health issues or big money woes. Just a sort of malaise. An "I suck at everything" feeling. I get this once in a while. Lots of negative self-talk and such.

Mentioned my mood to Jenny and Ali before the CWC meeting last week, and Jenny said she'd been in a bad mood. Sort of an "I suck at everything" mood. Now we both know we don't suck at everything, but when one of these moods sets in, it's not about what we know but what we feel.

The next day I took a few of my trusty index cards and put together a set of affirmations. Positive responses to the negative things I'd been telling myself about myself. Started reading them a couple times a day. Unfortunately, my first few times through that nasty little voice answered each one with the nasty stuff I'd been telling myself. But repetition helps silence that. After a while it does help. So does letting myself relax. Doing other things I enjoy.

So, imagine my surprise when I check out Pat's blog and see a whole post on the dangers of negative self talk and some suggestions on what to do about it. Sometimes these things are just out there in the air.

And, if you're convinced that you too suck because something didn't turn out quite the way you planned or wasn't done when you thought it should have been (my personal suckage trigger), go over to Courtney's blog and listen to J.K. Rowling extol the virtues of failure.

By the way, YOU certainly don't suck, especially not at everything. And I'm realizing that I don't either.

Clearance on Poppets

What's a Poppet?

Obviously, you don't follow Neil Gaiman's blog then. That's where I first learned about poppets and became hooked.

A poppet is a little (usually about 2 inches tall) sculpture by an amazing artist, Lisa Snellings. They are extremely cute and just a tad bit creepy. "Grotesque," says Giovanna. "In a good way." There are a couple who wander around my house. My first, Little Red, sits on my desk at work to inspire me in those moments I have to do something creative. She--I'm convinced that this one is a girl--waits patiently for me to acknowledge her. But sometimes she she draws my attention when I wasn't expecting it, trying to get me to "do the work".


The sale is this Saturday, March 28th on Lisa's eBay site Lisa's Store .


You can check out Lisa's other artwork (wish I had more disposable income, but I did just find out she does layaway) at Poppet Planet .

Clearing Out

Over the weekend, I cleared out a lot of the junk that has accumulated in The Blue Room. The Blue Room has acted as guest room over the years. It was the room where I kept the cat's dish out of reach of the goofy little dog who used live with us. Then, after my sister moved in, it became my writing room because I could no longer get to the desk in the family room downstairs (my former "office"). But most of all, it's been the junk room. The room were things are thrown when one doesn't know where to put them. Or where bags of Christmas gifts and decorations and such go to live until distributed accordingly.

There is still some clutter in there, but I can see most of the floor and get to the daybed (no desk or chair) without tripping. So that's all good.

I think I've also been doing some mental de-cluttering. Last week I quickly whipped out a new structural plan for MMG. I like it. Talked it over with a couple of the Pirates on Monday night and got thumbs up. Ready to rock and roll. Only I wasn't. I needed a couple days to let the last version settle. To live with the new plan and let go of all the stuff (a multitude of stuff, really) that is now gone from the story. It needed to go. Desperately. But that doesn't make it any easier.

Now, thinking about proceeding doesn't give me that little twinge. It's okay to start at what used to be page 110. Not everything from before that is gone, but may appear in an altered form somewhere else. Such is writing and rewriting. Things morph.

The pages are stacked next to me. The purple pen is ready. Tally-ho!