How To Keep Writing When Disaster Looms

Reset and recalibrate. I made a smart move at the start of the year by taking what I thought I could do in 2020 and cutting it in half. I did this again at the start of March, so now my yearly goal is 25% of what I wanted it to be. There’s always the thought process playing in the back of my ambitious, over-achieving mind that slashing a goal to 25% is not good enough, not words enough, not impressive enough. And to that voice, I say: You can always keep going. You can always do more. But it’s also important that I know it’s OK if I don’t.

Set bite-sized, achievable goals. 1,000 words in an hour every day is an admirable goal. But it’s one I’ll fail most of the time. For starters, I can’t write 1,000 words in an hour. I’m more a 700-words an hour kind of girl (or more accurately, a 200-ish words in 20 minutes kind of girl). I’m also more of a “most days” kind of girl rather than an “every day” kind of girl. And that’s when I’m not ill or covered up with work or there’s a global pandemic at large. Bite-sized goals will look different for everybody, but for me, especially right now, that’s been however many words I can scrape out of 5 minutes. (Remember, you can always keep going, you can always do more. But if I’ve put in my 5 minutes, I’ve done what I asked of myself, even if I spend the rest of the day screaming into the void.)

Effort counts. Some days those 5 minutes are spent staring at the blank page. But it still counts, because at least I opened the Word document when I didn’t want to. At least I showed up. Don’t discount the simple act of showing up.

Reading counts, too. When I’m not in the headspace to write new words, it’s usually because I need to consume new words. Old words. Audiobook words. Blog words. Just words in general. So I try to do a lot of that, too.

Track your progress. I love data and find it immensely helpful. But tracking things in real-time is hard because I’m super-critical of my own accomplishments. A happy compromise has been to create a Google form with which I track my writing sprints. The form is connected to a spreadsheet that automatically pulls things like words written and time spent writing, but also measures other metrics, like which days and times of day I’m most productive (so I can protect them and better utilize them), which project I’m working on and where in the pipeline it falls (drafting, editing, etc), where I’m writing (office, bedroom, outside, or pre-pandemic, Starbucks, libarary, hospital, etc), and which tools I’m using (Scrivener, Word, candle, music). I’ve recently even added a mood tracker (turns out I always think I suck about 80% through a draft, who knew?) and a comment box where I can make notes of what worked and what didn’t and what I could do better next writing session. The best part: the spreadsheet collects the data automatically, so I don’t have to look at it until I’m mentally prepared to do so.

Stop using fun as a reward for working yourself to death. I used to use Cinderella logic on myself, where I was like, “OK, if I will do this thing, but only after I do this impossible amount of work first.” And then walk around for six months having zero fun because I hadn’t earned any fun. Now I pencil in fun the way I pencil in writing. Sure, there are times I have to factor in that I have a deadline coming and a ton of work to do, and maybe I can’t binge a show or play a game for three days straight that week. But even then I can carve out a little time that isn’t just work work work.

Everybody needs a day off. “Writers write every day” is not only bullshit advice, but for me it has the tendency to really throw off my writing groove. Since I moved to a four-day work week (two days writing, one day off, two days writing, two days off), I feel like I’ve made better writing decisions, had better-feeling writing days, and backtracked less often. It’s also nice to have at least one day a week that is free from day job stress as well as writing stress, a day to just veg out and do what the hell ever.

And finally:

Don’t skimp on self-care. Take a shower when you feel gross. Nap when you’re tired. Know your warning signs. Too tired or depressed to cook and clean? Move to disposable dishes and cutlery, order take-out, and stock your pantry with non-perishable go-tos. Make your bed. Clean off your desk. Take out the trash. Unfuck your habitat. Believe me, no words you write when you feel shitty or exhausted are going to be worth suffering for.

The Art of Being Not Agented

I want to talk about agents for a second.

Maybe not agents, but more specifically, the being agented thing.

And even more specifically, the not being agented thing.

Ten years ago, when I was a college student and this blog was in its infancy, before I became too cool for blogging and sold my dreams for a job at a credit union and the ability to consistently pay my bills; before I signed with an agent and parted ways with that agent and signed with another agent; before I wrote a book that didn’t sell and wrote another one that also didn’t sell and wrote another that also didn’t sell… I thought I knew what I was doing.

And I kind of did.

Kind of .

But I also kind of didn’t.

Because working with an agent is one of those things that you can’t get adequate perspective of until you’re in the thick of it.

Ten years ago, when I started querying, rejection was a terrifying thing.

Rejection meant:

I am not good enough.

Other people are better at this than I am.

This thing that is so hard for me is so easy for everyone else.

I don’t matter and I don’t know how to matter.

My stories are broken. My process is broken. I am broken.

None of these things were true.

And yet, everything I did was in service to one goal and one goal only: do not get rejected.

I don’t know what I thought would happen when I got a yes, because I don’t think I expected I would ever get a yes. But I think it lay somewhere in the realm of:

If “no” means I’m not good enough, that my book is bad, that my dreams are over, then “yes” must mean that I am a good writer, that my book is a good book, and that success is within the vicinity of reach .

None of those things were true, either.

The truth was that nothing had changed.

And when the no that had turned to a yes turned back to a no and then again to a yes, still nothing had changed.

I am the same writer in 2020 that I was in 2010 .

I still know nothing about my books until I have drafted them.

I still get to the end of a perfectly fine book and unravel every inch of it to start again, because that’s the only way I know how to make it better.

I still weep for days after turning in a draft because I think it sucks, but also because I do not like change and turning in a book is rife with upheaval.

I still get it mostly wrong before I get it mostly right.

And most importantly:

I still only kind of know what I’m doing.

The only real difference between 2010 Me and 2020 Me is that 2020 Me has ten years more experience under her belt.

Or:

Five books, nine editors, two agents, numerous writing friends (each with their own experiences to share), a contract or two, and twenty-three filled-in writing notebooks.

As I type this out, I find I have a lot to say about that period of time. And I will, one day. But for now, I want to say something to specifically those querying writers who have been at this for years, but haven’t yet found their foothold:

You are good enough. Your process is fine. It’s hard for everyone. You matter. Your stories matter. There is nothing wrong with you.

In the darkest, bleakest of my writing nights (not that long ago, I might add), I had to find a reason to keep writing that had nothing to do with the approval or acceptance of another person.

But first, I had to give myself permission to stop caring what publishing thinks.

If you’re in a place where you’re doing everything right and everything is going wrong, I challenge you to give yourself permission to give zero fucks about the outside world and really hone in on what your vision for your writing is.

Not your writing career. That’s its own thing and you can sort that out later.

I’m talking about the time you spend every day immersed in story.

What do you want that to look like?

Why is it important to you?

And what steps are you going to take to keep life and publishing and the universe and everything from taking it from you?

2019: Year in Review

I haven’t done a Year in Review post for a lot of years, but since my areas of focus for 2020 is to get back in touch with my process (iterate and optimize!), be more positive about small, slow, incremental change, and to be more accountable to my writing, it seems like a good idea to look at the past couple of years before jumping forward into a bright shiny January.


2018

Since 2008, I’ve chosen a word to focus on each year. For 2018, the word was Metamorphosis. And boy, did it live up to that moniker.

2018 was a year of transition. And change. And upheaval.

2018 was the year I decided to start working on a YA. It was the year I changed jobs—twice. It was the year I parted ways with my first agent. The year my energy and overall health took a nosedive. The year I came to a deep understanding that fostering terminally ill cats didn’t only mean keeping them comfortable, but also letting them go; related: this is also the year I self-published a book to help pay for cat hospice.

I walked out of 2018--like most people, I think--thankful and a little baffled that I had made it through the year intact. Looking back, there isn’t any one thing that stands out as being overwhelmingly awful. More like, every day, the world just seemed to get a little bit worse. A little bit darker. A little bit more lonely.

As someone who was writing primarily romance, and still trying to find her voice again after a pretty major setback a couple of years prior, every day, every book, every word was an act of...not faith, but desperation. I felt as though I was rushing up the face of a crumbling crag and any moment I would lose my grip, my footing, my nerve, and plummet onto the sharp rocks below.

There was a moment during the Brett Kavanaugh hearings where I spent my days listening to the men in my office joke about not making eye contact with the women lest they be accused of rape, then spent my nights at Starbucks openly weeping through the first draft of what I was sure would be the last book I would ever write.

I forced myself to finish that draft in one mad weekend binge in December, hit save, and took the rest of the year off.


2018 Stats:
Words written: 65,004
Books finished: 2
Books published: 1
# of days written: 55
Longest writing streak: 12
Ave. words per day: 1,153
Ave. minutes per day: 48
Ave. words per hour: 1,579
Most productive days: Wednesdays and Saturdays
Least productive day: Tuesday

2019

2018 left me defeated, demoralized, and hungry for more. So hungry I feared I could never get enough: Validation. Success. Achievement. Purpose. Joy.

In her podcast leading up to the release of Big Magic, Liz Gilbert, in conversation with Brene Brown, talked about how creativity, if not used, has a tendency to metastasize into a bitter, toxic thing.

This is the feeling that consumed me in the first half of 2019. For years, I had allowed myself to be vulnerable in service to my writing, and in doing so, had opened myself to a fragility that did not lend itself to the world at large. Months of going through the motions of the daily things, ignoring the steady hum of creativity, had allowed it to decay.

I wanted so much more. But more felt…unattainable.

Rotting from the inside out, though? That was unpardonable.

Digging up the box where I had buried that part of myself was terrifying. I knew I couldn’t ease into it. There were no easy first steps. If I wanted more, I had to go after more. And I had to do so fearlessly. I had to change my thinking. My habits. My routine. I had to completely re-prioritize my life.

And then I had to leap.

So that’s what I did.

I joined a healthy group at work. I restructured my social groups, limited my time spent around negative, toxic behavior, and became more intentional in my relationships. I wrapped one day a week in iron-clad solitude and turned all the alerts off of my phone. I stopped working overtime and installed boundaries where before there had been none.

I pissed a lot of people off.

I got over it.

Years ago, I’d read on Jessica Lemmon’s blog about how she used a goal-setting system called PowerSheets to help her focus. Since it was mid-year, they were having a sale on the six-month undated version, so I thought, why not? It will be good practice for 2020.

Working through the exercises was like peeling layers of skin away from a blister. All that armor that had protected me from that all-consuming want was gone. I couldn’t ignore it. And I couldn’t pretend my rather comfortable life and pretty good job were satisfying anymore.

I poured as much of myself into writing as I could, but with a new rule: I wouldn’t be an asshole to myself this time. I would try for the sake of trying, not in the hopes of success, and I wouldn’t let failure stop me.

This is still a daily struggle. I’m not perfect and I never will be. There are going to be days when I let myself down, or things don’t go my way, or someone gets something I want and I react poorly to it. But I hope every day I get a little bit better at letting go of the outcome and letting myself write because there are stories to tell.



2019 Stats:
Words written: 150,598
Books finished: 3
Books published: 0
# of days written: 141
Longest writing streak: 20
Ave. words per day: 1,076
Ave. minutes per day: 63
Ave. words per hour: 1,121
Most productive days: Sundays and Fridays
Least productive day: Thursday

Same Liz, New Books

Many (many, many) years ago, when I was a college student writing my first book, I started a writing blog as a way to help me stay focused. The logic went: if I was blogging, then I was writing, and if I was writing, then something would eventually get done. And if something got done, then I had something to edit. And on and on.

Really, it wasn't a bad plan. It got me through two majors and five (5!!) books. I learned a lot (from other writers and trial and error) and I shared a lot and then...man, I just got tired. I got a job. I co-founded a non-profit. I started doing some ghostwriting. I developed a stress-related auto-immune disorder that causes my immune system to eat my organs whenever I get really excited or really scared or when it's Tuesday or I have to pee... Basically, I finish a book and go into liver failure. Eat a bagel, go into kidney failure. Wake up five minutes late, have no hemoglobin. It's fine. Totally fine. Everything is OK.

Point is, after a ten year hiatus, I miss blogging. Not so much for the accountability, because I don't need that anymore. But because I miss connecting with other writers on a more-than-120-characters level. And because, more than anything, I miss getting in touch with my process, that writer part of me that is always evolving, that doesn't get a proper check-in often enough.

(Sorry, writer me. You're important! You matter! It just doesn't always feel like you matter when there are other less important but more pressing responsibilities breathing down my neck! We're going to do better, you and I. I promise!)

Today I started a new book, which I love and think is great, except that right now the writer part of me is struggling with finding balance and being OK with not writing ALL THE THINGS! ALL THE TIME! The past few months have been the most creatively fulfilling months I've had in years, and it's been a fight to share my time with other responsibilities. Like, you know, work. And sleep. And self-care.

Twenty-two-year-old writer Liz would not have let those things get in the way of the words. She would have found a more accommodating job, loaded herself full of cigarettes and Red Bull, and powered through. This is probably why thirty-six-year-old writer Liz has no hemoglobin. :)

I just have to keep repeating to myself that small chunks of time are just as important as larger ones, small word counts add up just as quickly as big ones, and books that get continuous work will always eventually get finished.

That's the only way I have ever finished a book and the only way I ever will.

Do the work. Every day. Beginning with day one.

And all you have to do on day one?

Just start.

Save the Cat Summer: 7 Beat Sheet Myths Busted

Myth #1: You have to fill in ALL! THE! BEATS!

Truth: No one expects you to know everything about your book before you write it. So focus on what you do know--even if all you know is intangible, like a mood or a feeling--and then start writing. Those blank spots will fill themselves in as you learn more about your book.

Myth #2: Theme doesn't matter.

Truth: Don't overthink or undervalue theme. It is the mirror in which the events of the story are reflected.

I would be willing to wager that all of us, at one point or another, got a quarter of the way through a book and thought, "I understand what's going on action-wise, but I don't know if it's good or bad, or why it matters."

Theme is what the book is about. Theme is the story you're telling, the question you're asking, the point of it. Theme gives us the proper context in which to experience the myriad of events that will transpire throughout the rest of the book. Which is why it's front and center.

The good news is, theme isn't something you add to a book. It's something already there, a question your subconscious keeps trying to answer off and on throughout the story. All you have to do is find it.

Myth #3: If your beats aren't lining up just so, your book is broken.

Truth: SAVE THE CAT is a screenwriting book, and the beat sheet, in its original form is intended to show how one can efficiently squish a story into roughly 90-110 minutes of film. We book people, on the other hand, have a little bit more leeway.

A more accurate way to look at the Save the Cat beat structure is to think of it as a recipe. Here are all the ingredients you will need to make for a satisfying dish. You can flavor to taste.

Myth #4: Some people just don't have the plotting gene.

Truth: Plotting, like most everything else, can be learned. Instead of giving up on plotting altogether, ask yourself why you have such an aversion to it. Is it because not knowing what happens next makes you nervous? Or because knowing too much ruins the story for you?

"That doesn't always work for me" is better than "I can't do it" any day.

Myth #5: "Formula" is a four-letter word.

Truth: Math, science, the universe, and pretty much everything else is made up of some kind of formula. Your DNA? A formula. Your favorite beer? A formula. The way your mind works when coming up with stories? A formula. The beat sheet is no different.

Myth #6: It's impossible to cram the happenings of a 400 page book onto one beat sheet page.

Truth: Can't fit your whole story onto one beat sheet page? Easy. Use more than one beat sheet. Separate your action plot from your romance plot from your subplots and map them each out individually.

Myth #7: This isn't working for me, so I must be doomed for failure.

Truth: Not every book on writing will help every writer. Everyone's different. There are hundreds of books on writing out there. They won't all help you. But a handful will. Keep reading and trying new things until you find them.

The 7 Point Plot System aka Save the Cat for Pantsers

ETA: Don't worry about having to keep with the links! I've compiled a list at the bottom of this post!

One of the things I hear most about Save the Cat is that it's damn complicated and what the shit is a theme and why does it have to be in the form of a question? This is a BOOK, Liz, not a freaking episode of Jeopardy!

Pantsers especially, I've noticed, are hella skeered of the beat sheet. And I guess I can understand why. Breaking your book down into 15 steps when you don't even know what your book is about yet does fall under the heading of "intimi--wait for it--dating".

But fear not, you writerly peoples, you! For there is a solution for you heathen pantsers!

The 7 Point Plot System

Developed by Dan Wells, who attributes it to Star Trek RPG, the 7 Point Plot System gives you all the goods of Save the Cat, but with fewer, less intimidating steps.

Here's what it looks like:

The 7 Point Plot System

Hook
The beginning. The mirror image of the end.

Turn 1
Introduces conflict and bridges the gap between the Hook and the Midpoint.

Pinch 1
Something bad happens.

Midpoint
Bridges the gap between the Hook and the Resolution.

Pinch 2
Something even worse happens.

Turn 2
Bridges the gap between Midpoint and End.

Resolution
The climax. Everything in the story leads to this moment.

There's more to it than that, but I'm not going to go into it because he does it so much better. Fortunately for you, the workshop presentation is on YouTube!



He's even made the PowerPoint slides available for download: 7 Point Plot System slides!

I would strongly recommend watching the workshop and going over the slides if you have a free hour this weekend, because not only does he go over the different steps using examples from Harry Potter and The Matrix, but he also goes into some hardcore layered plotting, and breaks it down in a way that it's so simple to use, even for the most die-hard pantser.

(For those of you saving it for later, here's a direct link: 7 Point Plot System. You can also download a PDF of the PowerPoint slides here: 7 Point Plot System PDF.)

How it Works with Save the Cat

I've been over this a hundred times with Liz Poole, and I can say unequivocally, it matches up near perfect with Save the Cat.

Here's the breakdown:

7 Point Plot System	Save the Cat
Hook	Opening Image Theme Stated Setup
Turn 1	Catalyst Debate
Pinch 1	Break into Act II B-Story Fun & Games
Midpoint	Midpoint
Pinch 2	Bad Guys Close In All is Lost Black Moment
Turn 2	Break into Act III Finale
Resolution	Final Image

So you can see, it matches up pretty well. For a better example, I went ahead and did a Beat Sheet and 7 Point Plot worksheet for Wicked (the musical, not the book):

(If you hate Scribd, don't worry--there are links to downloadable PDF versions of these at the bottom of this post.)

7 Point Plot Worksheet - Wicked
Save the Cat Beat Sheet for Novels - Wicked

If you're one of the people who tried Save the Cat and it just didn't work for you, I hope this helps to fill in that gap. These days, I find it's easier to scratch out a loose plot using the 7 Point Plot system, work with the story for a few pages, and then fill in the blanks on the Save the Cat beat sheet as they come to me. A lot of the intimidation that comes with the Save the Cat beat sheet comes from the feeling that you have to have this enormous chunk of information before you even begin writing, and I like how the 7 Point Plot System simplifies that so that you're only working on one aspect of the plot (action, romance, betrayal) at any given time.

Links!

Part 1 of the Story Structure (7 Point Plot) workshop: YouTube
Story Structure (7 Point Plot) slides: PowerPoint | PDF

Beat Sheet example for "Wicked": PDF
7 Point Plot example for "Wicked": PDF

Save the Cat Beat Sheet for Novels: Excel

7 Point Plot Worksheet (Printable): PDF
7 Point Plot Worksheet (Layered): Excel

Thank You

I love that so many people have found the Save the Cat Beat Sheet for Novels helpful. As always, if you have any questions or comments (or corrections!), feel free to let me know.

More beat sheet stuff is coming this summer! It's gonna be awesome!

Save the Cat Beat Sheet Spreadsheet for Novels

A while ago, I talked about how I use the Save the Cat beat sheet to roughly plot out new projects before drafting. The problem for most people, though, is that the beat sheet is for movie scripts that are around 100 pages, and books are significantly longer.

So I decided to share with you my little beat sheet spreadsheet:

Click here to download from Sribd! (Be sure to chose .xlsx format!)
Click here to download the file directly! (For those of you who hate Scribd!)

All you have to do is fill in your title, logline, and projected word count, and it will handle the rest. You can also mark which chapter the beats happen in, in case you need a quick reference.

Enjoy!

Blogfest: This Was Me, Then

I'm postponing Friday Reads until tomorrow in order to take part in a blogfest hosted by fellow writer (and fellow Elizabeth) Elizabeth Poole. The gist is this: post a piece of old work—from a year or two or ten ago—to show how far you've come.

And once you see some of this old stuff, you'll understand I seriously had nowhere to go but up.

So without further ado, let us begin!


From April 12th, 1997

This is one of the very first stories I wrote. I was fourteen, and while I don't remember being in love with vampires or high fantasy, I wrote this. Ironically, its original name was TWILIGHT, but I changed it to FIRST LIGHT because I didn't think a book called TWILIGHT would sell.

That is not an April Fool's Joke, by the way. That's the pathetic little truth.

Anyway, it was about this girl who was a vampire and she was a total Mary Sue, even though I remember not really liking her very much at the time. I can't remember what her name was--"Keavy" sticks out for some reason--but she went by the name Mayrnagh, which I guess was her vampire name.

Actually, I'm pretty sure I explained all that in the first three chapters (ETA: this isn't a typo, FIRST LIGHT had a prologue), but since they're a friggin' snoozefest, I've decided not to torture you with them. Instead, we'll start where it gets good, at Chapter Three, where the WTF-ery is so thick you can cut it with a knife.

Chapter Three – Wolfsong

Rain is pouring down; I can hear it on the roof. [I find the use of first person present very peculiar, seeing as how it makes my eye twitch nowadays.]

I’ve never liked the rain; it’s wet. [That is the real problem with rain, isn't it? All that WATER it's made of.] It takes forever to dry my hair, as long as it is, when it gets wet. I have a shower each morning, but I choose not to get wet otherwise if I can avoid it.

Some vampire lore states that vampires have the power to transfigure themselves into animals. This is not a vampire power. This is magic. And it isn’t secluded only to vampires, themselves. Any ordinary human could very well learn this magic, if he or she had the determination, skill, and time to learn. [Stupid humans. Stupid humans and their VAMPIRE LORE.]

Of course, transfiguration magic takes much longer to learn than the basic magics: potions, candle magic, and divination being only a few. Most humans don’t live long enough to master the art of transfiguration; the ones that do usually don’t have the desire or inner-strength to perfect it. And even then, there are very few that know it exists.

One of the perks of being immortal is time; there’s plenty of it. Being that a vampire is a natural hunter – humans have long suppressed their killer instincts, unless directed at one another --, [random punctuation #1] animal transfiguration comes easier to us than other creatures. Even Grimmas, who are born magical, study many years to transfigure themselves into other beings.

I have been studying for over one-hundred years.

Tonight, I am a wolf; [random punctuation #2] white, with blue eyes. There is a nice wooded area behind our home. I am joined by Naunie, an ancient Sephiroth that had given up his human form completely for that of a wolf some fifty years ago. He lives in a cave by the river, where food is easily accessible. [Translation: China Wok delivers] He visits us whenever he pleases, though he much prefers the solitude; [random punctuation #3] especially when the moon is full and the night is clear.

Tonight, it is neither, and I have called upon him, as he is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We speak telepathically, so as not to draw attentions to ourselves, or his cave. [Also, we don't want to accidentally set off all those bombs he's been mailing to his Congressman.]

“Welcome, Wolfsong,” he says inside my mind. Wolfsong was what he had deemed me upon successfully completing my first transfiguration into wolf. “To what can I owe this surprise?”

“Good evening, Wolfguard. I’m afraid I cannot stay long; it will rain soon.” [And rain, you know, is WET.]

“Aye, it will,” he said. “I’ve had word from the Grimma’s [random punctuation #4] in the lake. Well, go on, child, don’t hold yourself up. What is it you’ve come all this way for, eh?”

“I’m being watched, Wolfguard. I think I’m being hunted.”

“Not in wolf-form, I hope,” he said uneasily. He was cautious about his privacy; I would’ve never come to him if I thought he was in danger. I think he knew this, though he felt he needed all bases covered.

“No,” I replied, “as Wolfsong I am safe. I wasn’t followed.” The old wolf breathed a sigh of relief; he had not placed his trust in me in vain.

“But as Mayrnagh, you feel threatened? Have you seen this threat yourself, or do you just feel its presence? You dabble in divination, do you not; have your readings turned up any clues?”

“They have.”

“And?”

“Witches,” I replied.

“But not Trioch?” Wolfguard was one of the wisest Sephiroth. In often times, he knew the answers before the questions were asked. He would not give them away, however, as one could not learn by being told; they must find the answers for themselves. I knew he would help me find them. [What. The. Shit.]

“No, not Trioch,” I replied. “The readings unnerve me, but they do not show any immediate danger. Trioch don’t often guard their intentions.”

“Then what is it you fear, lass?” I pondered this question in my head. What do I fear?

“Myself,” I answered hesitantly.

“And what are you?”

“Vampire,” I answered.

“What are you?” he asked again. My answer had not satisfied him. More accurately, my question had not satisfied myself, and the answers that I sought. I thought some more. What am I?

“Asanti.” It made sense. The Asanti were the hunters, and I was the hunted. But why?

Before I could ask any more questions, I was lead to the cave entrance. There was a light mist of rain in the air. “You’d better go now, child. The rain will not let up tonight and I know how you do not like to get wet. [!!!] Go back to your home; stay there until the moon is new.”

“The Asanti are hunting me; why?”

“You know better than to ask questions, Wolfsong. The answers will come to you when you’re ready to find them. In time, they will find you.”

And with a soft nuzzle to bid farewell to the old wolf, I was off, dashing through the forest that led to my home.

Yeah. I know.

And the thing is, I really loved this book at the time. I thought it was AWESOME. I even sent queries out on it. (I don't think I need to tell you that the queries did not generate a lot of interest, probably because the queries were as bad as, if not worse than, the actual story.)

But FIRST LIGHT is the kind of story that everyone needs to get out of their system. I'm not talking a melodramatic teenage vampire story--although if you want to write one of those, feel free--but a bad story. A story that has stupid characters and no plot and is poorly written.

(And sometimes you have to write more than one).

Because the thing about writing is this: you'll never strike gold until you dig deep, and you can't dig deep if you're always hesitating because you're afraid of sucking all the time.

And thinking you suck? It's not something you grow out of when you become an adult. It's not something that magically goes away when someone says something good about your blog/short story/essay/novel/idea, or when you get an agent or a book deal or land on a bestsellers list.

My secret (also not an April Fool's joke) is that I think I suck. A lot. And that feeling of sucking kept me from striking gold for a long time.

Eventually, though, you learn to ignore that sucky feeling, and when that happens, you stop letting what's on top of the gold deter you from digging for it anyway.

! [random punctuation #5 ;-)]

Be sure to check out all the other participants' entries here!

Doubt

Earlier today, while I was eating lunch, I somehow found myself in the middle of a study group. Not my study group, but just some random study group. I don't even know what they were studying, just that somehow, for some reason, the topic got turned around to writing and before too long, they were all looking at me like I was Yoda and they wanted me to show them the ways of the Force.

I'm not exactly sure why this happens. Not that it happens a lot, but every now and then, it's like I accidentally walked out the door with a neon sign across my boobs that reads I WRITE BOOKS! ASK ME HOW! And even though I feel like I know a lot about writing, I don't always feel qualified to give advice on the subject. I mean, why should anyone take advice from me? I can't even write a five-page essay without freaking out.

But there we were, talking about writing, when a shaggy-haired dude looked at me and said, "I have an idea for a story, but I don't know how to put it onto paper."

"You sit down and write it," I said.

"But I don't know how."

"Yes, you do," I said. "You sit down and write it."

"But I don't know how."

"Yes, you do."

He looked at me like I was confused, and shook his head. "Naw, man. It's like, I get writer's block, or whatever."

"No," I told him. "You give up on yourself and call it quits. That's not writer's block. That's doubt."

Dude went quiet for a moment. Then he said, "So how do you get rid of doubt?"

"You tell it to f--- off," I told him. "And then you sit down and write."

Doubt is universal.

I have it. You have it. Bestselling, world-famous, published-in-sixteen-countries-in-thiry-languages authors have it. We've all had it at some point. Doubt is that sudden, sobering realization that everything we've been hoping for, everything we've been working toward, it's never going to happen.

"Things like that don't happen to us," we tell ourselves, and for a moment (sometimes even a long moment), whether we want to or not, we believe it.

Different people believe different things, but for me, I like to think of doubt as an Internet troll: some unemployed bald guy sitting bored in his parents' basement, looking for a fan site where he can stir up some trouble, at least for a few hours, until something good comes on TV.

There's only one way to deal with an Internet troll: ignore it and eventually it will go away.

Yeah, you might be thinking, that's easy for you to say.

But the truth of the matter is, I'm no better at this than anyone else is. I feel doubt every day. I may not always succumb to it, but I feel it. It's always there, trying to find a way around my mental firewall so it can stir up some bullshit flame war between my proverbial Team Jacob and Team Edward.

For those of you who know me well--and by "well" I mean sobbing on the phone late at night because I completely suck at writing and have nothing else to live for--know that what goes on here, on this blog, and what goes on behind the scenes, when I'm hyperventilating because my one-sentence pitch is too wordy, are two very different fronts. Sometimes it is very, very difficult to find something positive to say on my blog. It would be much easier to post about the other stuff, like rejections and unfavorable critiques and the people who've said nasty things about my writing for no reason other than they don't like me as a person.

But if you engage the crazy, you become the crazy, a lesson I've learned all too well in recent years.

So if you feel Doubt nagging at your noggin, do yourself a favor: ignore him and do it anyway, and eventually he'll go bother someone else.

How to Make Lemonade

When I first sat down to write this post, I had totally planned on talking about how demoralizing one of my classes has been, and what a struggle it is to write happy things when someone in your life is trying his damnedest to make sure you know just how horribly you suck.

But then halfway through I realized that focusing on the muck is what keeps you in the muck, and what I really should blog about was how to get out of the muck.

Ready? Here goes.

When life hands you lemons, send them through a juicer

Since toxic people bear toxic fruit, it can be dangerous to try and digest their special kind of feedback, skin and all. Instead, you have to separate the bitter/inedible parts from the juice, which might otherwise be useful. I like to do this by blacking out--either literally, with a Sharpie, or mentally--those things you think are invalid, unfounded, or just plain mean.

Can't find any juice? Don't worry about it. Some people are just mean for the sake of being mean.

Dilute, dilute, dilute

Being the designated whipping girl isn't fun, especially when it seems like every move you make is met with a smack on the rear. But the truth of the matter is, even though a person's ire may be directed at you, it's usually not because of you or anything you've done. Toxic people are experts at finding faults in others they think will deflect from their own insecurities.

Pour some sugar on it

Let's face it: rejection stings, even when it's from someone you don't like. Take the hurt out of it by revising their demoralizing feedback with something a little more constructive. For example, if someone accuses you of rambling inanely, make a mental note to double-check for cohesiveness.

Serve it ice cold

Never, never, never try and tackle a nasty critique right away. Let it sit for a day/week/month, until you can read it without over-analyzing every little thing.

And when you're done, put it on ice permanently by tossing it in the wastebasket where it belongs.

4 Months

So this week I'm stuck writing an essay, so today you get KITTEH PICTURES!

Here's Nathan Fillion at four (and a half!) months old:

He still gives the best snuggles you can imagine. He's still a bottomless pit. He still sleeps on my pillow (technically, though there isn't much pillow left for me at this point). He still kisses me goodnight.

This is his brother Ephraim:

Ephraim has the best belly of the bunch. Too bad touching it tends to launch the worst stink bomb you can imagine.

I also decided to redo my office (again) a few weeks ago. It's still a work of progress, but the painting is done:

And thanks to Elvis and Nancy, so is most of my interior decorating:

I also found this way cute rug at Pier 1 at 90% off:

I know, right? Just how cute is that rug?

But it's not as cute as Emma, AKA my new seat cushion:

Happy Wednesday! And if you're feeling particularly generous, I wouldn't mind a prayer or two for a snow day tomorrow!

More On Plotting

I took a shot of this the day of finals, and just now got around to pulling it off my phone.  Here, we have: a short outline, a long outline, notebook, hair clip, lip balm, colored index cards, pencils, highlighters, black ink pen (very important), white index cards, and Blake Snyder's SAVE THE CAT.

Then, when I have a good idea of where I'm going, it all gets input into Scrivener, like this:

I typically try to write from beginning to end, but there are some scenes I know out of order, so I don't feel bad spending a few minutes getting those down as they come to me.

Full-screen mode is great for times when Twitter gets in the way of productivity:

I'm also partial to my timer-bomb, which keeps me from feeling overwhelmed:

But the real secret to writing well is having tons of these:

HOTCH SNUGGLES!!!!

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Required Reading for Writers

Back when I worked for The Bank, there was a stupid rule that we had to read this bohemoth of a policies and procedures book every year before December 31st. Every year, I'd put it off until the very last week, hoping I could somehow get out of it. And every year, my boss would swish past my desk, wearing a look on her face like she'd just swallowed a toad, and I'd know my plan had been foiled. Again.

I don't rightly recall why I had such an aversion to reading the policies and procedures handbook, except to say that half the stuff was either outdated or outlandish or both. But I do remember how it felt to come back in the middle of December, after my winter vacation, and see that 5" maroon binder staring me in the face. It's the same feeling I got last week, when I looked at my history final and realized everything I knew about the Civil War came from True Blood.

But as I was tidying up my office, the thought occurred to me that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to spend what little bit is left of 2010 re-reading some of my favorite writing books.

Here's a short list:

• The War of Art by Steven Pressfield
• The Fire in Fiction and Writing the Breakout Novel by Donald Maass
• The Elements of Style by Strunk & White
• See Jane Write by Sarah Mlynowski & Farrin Jacobs
• On Writing by Stephen King
• Made to Stick by Chip Heath & Dan Heath
• The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference by Malcolm Gladwell
• The Marshall Plan for Novel Writing by Evan Marshall
• The Plot Thickens by Noah Lukeman
• Save The Cat! by Blake Snyder

I have others on my shelves that I turn to periodically, but these are the ones I find myself going back to over and over again.

How about you? Which books are your favorites, and which would you deem required reading for writers?