when reading is writing

Some of you know that this past week my writers block returned. I did the usual things -- tried to psych myself and write through it, read other people's writing instead, complained on Twitter, curled up on the floor in a fetal position.... (just kidding about that last one) before once again taking the advice I give to many writers in a similar position. I printed out the 80+ pages of the writing I've done this past month as-is (single space to save paper, although I regret not giving myself more margin space for annotations), headed for the coffeeshop, and began to read.

Maybe it was the iced vanilla chai that had mellowed me out (that particular brand always takes me back to my old hangout in Massachusetts), but once again I was pleasantly surprised (not to mention relieved) to find that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Yes, it was a first draft in need of direction and description, with gaping holes in the timeline and telling rather than showing. But it wasn't bad. Heck, I even laughed out loud a few times (in a good way). It's always a great feeling for me to write something funny enough to make someone laugh, but perhaps it's even better when that someone is me.

I got through half the pages in three hours, making lots of notes and corrections, yet not crossing out entire blocks of text (although I suspect that will come towards the end). The realization that my novel isn't sucking is sometimes the very thing that snaps me out of my writers block. And even if it doesn't, I feel better about taking that physical writing time off and allowing the mental composing to take over again, sitting with the characters a little more, the whole lot of us hanging out in the coffeeshop of my imagination and chillin' out on iced vanilla chais. It certainly beats complaining on Twitter.

Sometimes reading is writing. It's such an important part of the process. Whether you read as you go along, following that day's writing, or wait until you're 30,000 words in, or until you've got the entire first draft of the manuscript done, the act of reading your manuscript (either with the eyes of an intended reader or one who knows these characters intimately) allows you to see both the little things and the bigger picture with more clarity. The revision process happens as you subconsciously ask (and answer) questions about meaning, order, arrangement, imagery, voice, behavior, setting, audience, purpose, style, and so much more. You find direction. You find little nuggets of gold, or keys to portals of brilliance. And sometimes you even make yourself laugh for all the right reasons.


And on a different note...

It figures--just as I was getting back into the groove of posting regularly on my blog, I got the news that I'd been accepted and invited to the Southampton Writers Conference on the east end of Long Island. Yep, I'm due north yet again! I've been wanting to attend this conference for years, ever since my mom started cutting out the full-page ads in the Sag Harbor Express and mailing them to me. And every year I'd gaze at the ad, reading the list of that year's participants (ranging from Alan Alda to the late Frank McCourt) and lament that I could barely afford to set foot on the campus.

However, I decided to put it on my 2011 to-do list, and lo and behold, the opportunity (not to mention the financing) came through. I was afraid to make the commitment at first, coming up with all kinds of excuses. But something inside me knew that I would regret not going far more than any of the so-called inconveniences I was contriving to feed my fears.

I'll be on the Island for almost the entire month of July, and I imagine most of my time and energy will be devoted to the writing sessions, instruction, networking, keynote speakers, etc. (plus, I need to go to the beach again). I would love to share my experiences with you, but be prepared for yet another blog hiatus. My apologies for abandoning you yet again, and my thanks to those who faithfully await my return.

wherever you go, there you are

I'm always flattered and humbled when someone sends me an email to tell me that I've inspired them to pick up writing. More often than not, many are writers who gave up on writing at some point in their lives because they or someone else told them they were no good, or that it wouldn't pay the bills, and so on.

I can't tell you how many of these aspiring writers are hung up on perfection. This is an observation, not a judgment. Just yesterday I posted on Twitter about the 2100 "teeth" I pulled. It was rough, man. And the whole time I was writing, a little voice in the back of my mind kept taunting me about how crappy the writing was, how it would never amount to anything, etc. I know the perfection hangup. I've occasionally got that monkey on my back.

Nothing is more debilitating than the fear that what you are writing is no good. The best of us have had this fear. Even a certain recent Oscar-winning screenwriter has had this fear. And nothing is more debilitating to the process than obsessing and worrying about perfection during the drafting stage.

There isn't a right or wrong way to write a first draft. Some, like me, bang out a first draft by seemingly spilling it all on the page without pausing for too long to consider the right word, phrase, description, etc. We don't get hung up on timelines or loose ends, not at this stage. We simply get it out of our heads. Once in awhile I re-read the last chapter or few pages I wrote before starting a new one, just to get a sense of place. Sometimes I even go back and re-read when I'm finished.

When drafting, I write until I run out of steam or hit a wall (couldn't decide which metaphor I liked better; both are applicable). I don't think I've ever stopped in mid-sentence or even mid-paragraph (although I'm probably forgetting), but I've certainly stopped mid-chapter, and I'm ok with that. I'd even be ok with stopping mid-sentence. I'm sure others have.

Many writers prefer to edit as they go along. They write a few pages, stop, then re-read what they've just written, making adjustments along the way. They write a few more, stop, re-read, re-write, and so on. Perhaps they don't want those loose ends or gaps in timeline. Perhaps it helps them organize their thoughts, develop their plots, better hear their characters. Perhaps it means less work later on. Perhaps they just like the idea of a tight manuscript.

There is no right or wrong way to write a first draft. There is no right or wrong way to revise, either.

But it's rare to find a first draft that is without flaws, even with the rewrite-as-you-go method. First drafts are going to be flawed. They're going to be messy, going to lack direction or depth. First drafts are going to have poorly constructed sentences, incomplete thoughts, under-developed ideas. First drafts are going to have characters who aren't sure what they're doing or why, or where they're going or why. They're going to have words that are cliche, descriptions that are confusing, dialogue that is forced. They're going to be either too long or too short. Too many words, or not enough. Too much info dump, or not enough context.

First drafts are not final drafts.

At some point, you've got to quiet the voice that is taunting you, telling you it's no good. You've got to shout back, "Of course it's no good, you idiot! It's a first draft! But I wanna have some fun, here. I have something to say, and I'm going to say it, and by the time my book is bound, I will have said it as best as I can."

Revision can be the sandbox where you play, digging for treasure, building castles and tearing them down again and loving every minute of it, or it can be the mudpit where you get stuck spinning your wheels. Of course I much prefer the sandbox, and it's way more fun to be there when I'm not criticizing my draft as, well, nothing more than a ton of sand. To get there, you've got to accept your draft for what it is, where it is, at any given time. As Jon Kabat-Zinn said, "Wherever you go, there you are."

Your manuscript will get to where you want it to be. But first you need to accept where it is. And you need to accept what it is not as well as what it is. Some days pulling out the words will be like pulling teeth. Some days will be the mudpit. You've got to allow your draft to be bad. And you can joke about it being bad, by all means; but you've also got to cut yourself some slack. And by god, you've got to have some fun. At some point, give up spinning your wheels in the mud and start making mudpies. What's the point of writing, otherwise?

hey, stranger

I thought that when the semester ended, so would my blog-posting drought. not so. Turns out, it's gotten worse.

It's not like I've not had anything to say. It's just that I've been afraid to write. Yes, afraid. I've actually been afraid of my own blog.

Go figure that one.

Writer's block is, undoubtedly, the manifestation of the fear that, while you may have something to say, it has no value whatsoever, compounded by the fear that even if it does, you are not good enough to do it justice. It skews your perception of your audience, transforming them from receptive readers to judgmental vultures. It wreaks havoc with your ability to distinguish good writing from bad. And it makes your own writing pale in comparison to everyone else's. And you know this because you're holding it up against everyone else's.

There's a story--I have no idea if it's true, but it's certainly believable--that Brian Wilson had quit his SMiLE project back in 1967 after hearing The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper album. The masterpiece had already been made, he decided. There was no way anyone could come close to such greatness. It took Wilson almost 40 years to finally complete the project. And while it may have lost something in the newer technology, it is nothing short of an Opus, a beautiful composition, a story exquisitely told in music.

My books, and certainly my blog, are no SMiLE, no Sgt. Pepper. I'm not aiming that high. I always strive to write the book I would want to read rather than write the great American novel, whatever that means. I strive to write the blog I would want to read as well. But lately, I don't know what that blog looks like.

How many times have you been down this road with me before, when I've had an identity crisis with my blog? How many of you have been with me from day one, remembering the old incarnations? I've come to this crossroads yet again, and I'm not sure which road to take. Does it even make sense to keep a blog when I can accomplish just as much elsewhere in 140 characters or less (and often be twice as entertaining)? Is this a writer's blog, or a reader's blog? I've even thought about writing pieces of fiction here, but I'm too afraid of piracy and plagiarism.

If any of you have words of advice, ideas, suggestions, or examples, please do share. I really would love for this to be a place you want to visit regularly, someplace you enjoy, where you get a fix, a laugh, a burst of inspiration. I'd love that to be true for me as well. So tell me, what's the blog you want to read?

dispelling doubt: a dialogue

Yesterday I attended a workshop about using written dialogue to enhance a deeper meaning of the academic disciplines. I had a lot of "why-didn't-I-ever-think-of-that" moments as I watched/listened to the presentation and then brainstormed ways to apply this in my own classroom.

In an unrelated activity, I also participated in a forum discussion in which many well-established, successful writers admitted that they fear they are, to use an appropriate phrase, "faking it". In other words, with each finished project (or new one about to start), they are afraid the world will discover them to be the fraud they really are.

And I confess, I experience this feeling sometimes, although not to the extent of others. My self-doubts usually kick in either when writers block strikes in the middle of a project or at the very start of a new one. And I don't know that I feel like a fraud as much as worry that I only had the one good idea, and the rest are crap. That maybe I'm not really a novelist after all, being that I have no formal literary training. I'm a rhetoric girl, remember?

Ok, so maybe that is a fraud-like feeling.

One participant on the forum was curious about coping mechanisms. How do we manage such doubts? how do we control the voices?

And so, in an effort to marry the two activities, I decided to create a little dialogue between the Doubter (D) and the Believer (B), perhaps not too far off from the internal dialogue I might actually have.

D: It's back. She's staring at the blank page, wondering if it's all crap, wondering if she's ever gonna write another decent novel -- hell, another decent chapter -- and whether she's gonna spend the rest of her life hearing people say, "It's not as good as Faking It, but..."

B: What evidence do you have to support this?

D: Ummm, well, none at the moment. I mean, no one's said that to her yet.

B: Has she run out of novel ideas?

D: Well, no (although she can't seem to think of anything to write at the moment).

B: That will pass. It always does. And she's gotten a lot of positive feedback, yes? People who aren't her parents or friends telling her that they like what she writes. And what is it that she tell her students about the continuum?

D: She tells them that they're better than some student writers and not as good as others. As is she on the continuum of professional writers..

B: Right. So, what's the problem?

D: Sure, she's got ideas. But what if she fails to execute them well? Just because she's gotten a lot of good reviews doesn't mean there aren't any bad ones floating around somewhere.

B: You think her favorite writers never got a rejection or a bad review? You think they've not executed well? Does that make them frauds, or participants in the process?

D: Um, the second one?

B: Right. So what it comes down to is a decision. She's got to decide whether she's a fraud or an honest-to-god writer that knows what she's doing. When it's not working on the page, I'll tell her to re-read and revise, and then read something else, or write something else, and keep honing her craft until she gets it. And really, do you think she wants to be a fraud?

D: Well, no.

B: So that's it. She'll decide not to be. Because she's not, regardless of what delusions you feed her about it.

D: So, she's the Decider...

B: Now let's not get carried away...

one chord at a time, one word at a time: dispelling fear of failure

Recently a student came to me, practically in tears. He had no draft, nothing to show for the last four weeks, and confessed that every time he tries to write something, he becomes so terrified of failing that he simply can't do it. Unfortunately, his past teachers instilled a false perception of "perfect writing" (ha! and there's really an Easter Bunny too, right?), and he's been paralyzed by it ever since.

"Welcome to my world," I replied.

Ok, I wasn't that blunt, but I was certainly empathetic and confessed my own writers block and fears of failure. I told him that I've been there, many times. That most writers I know experience this. And then I proceeded to tell him some of my tricks:

• When I'm feeling particularly fearful, the first thing I type is This does not have to be perfect. In fact, it can be the crappiest piece of writing ever, and no one ever has to know.
• The second thing I type is This is what I want to say. And then I proceed to say it in words. Or, I type I want to write about... and don't worry about how clunky it is. After a couple of sentences or paragraphs, the words come easier, the thoughts become clearer, and before I know it, I'm writing something, sometimes even halfway decent. One word at a time.
  
• I watch or read something inspiring.
• I talk it out with someone I trust. Not just the fear, but the subject about which I am blocked.
• I seek support and encouragement from my peers.

There's the old saying "Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." (Yeah. Tell me that when I'm heartbroken and see if you don't walk away with a bloody nose.) Is writing the same way? Is it better to have produced a piece of problematic writing than to have written nothing out of fear?

It took me almost 20 years to pick up the guitar from the last time I had played it because I had struggled so hard the last time -- I figured that I was never going to be good at it, and I would never be as good as my siblings. And then I realized that I'd never really know if I didn't try. Moreover, my brother (a virtuoso with whom I'd match John Mayer and Eric Clapton any day of the week and twice on Sunday) encouraged me that I'd never have to play for anyone but me. It's true--I'm nowhere near as good as my sibs, and there's still a lot I can't do, but dammit, I surprised myself with what I could do, especially on my own. One chord at a time.

It took Faking It five years from its conception to get written because I thought I wasn't a fiction writer. And since then I've panicked that there's no life after Andi, that I only got one good idea and used up my ration. But then a line, a story, a character comes to mind while I'm in the shower or driving to work or at the coffeeshop staring out the window, and I realize that all is not lost.

The sucky thing is that I have no choice but to issue a failing grade if this student produces nothing by the end of the semester. But my heart will be with him if it comes to that. I sure hope it doesn't. I'll keep doing everything I can.

readers before royalties

I just had a great month of Kindle sales for Faking It; setting the price at 99 cents has attracted more readers and occasionally put me into the Top 100 special categories rankings (makes for good bragging rights for my parents and strangers, but Amazon rankings are a little tricky; still, it's nothing to frown at, either...).

When it comes to Kindle and e-book sales, however, I kind of feel like I'm both biting the hand that feeds me and selling myself short. I've discussed on this blog how I feel about tactile books and how much I love and support independent booksellers. I know they lose business to the Kindle, and I don't want to see them go away. But as a self-published author, I'm not only a writer, I'm a businessperson, and the bottom line is that I sell books on Kindle and am building a following. Am I underselling my talent by charging so little? Many might say yes. But I look at the bigger picture; I think from the end. Guys like Ray Bradbury and Stephen King used to sell stories to magazines that paid a penny per word, and that was after numerous rejections. Heck, the Beatles weren't exactly staying at Hamburg's version of The Plaza when they first started out.

The money will come -- it already is coming. So are the readers, and the reviews. So far, so good. Most important, I'm having fun.

There's a saying: "Do what you love; the money will follow." Don't listen to those that say there's no money to be made as an author, and don't ever sell yourself short, literally and metaphorically. Know what you want, make a plan, and visualize your plan manifesting itself. Most of all, love what you do, and do it as if it's already raking in the bucks. Do it for your readers, and remember: you're one of 'em.

One more thing: more than any other time, self-published authors have several channels of distribution and communication to get their books into the hands of readers. Take advantage of as many as possible, but be patient.

are you giving what you're getting?

Recently I've been reading in various comment sections of blogs and on forums that writers are very competitive and don't wish to see other writers gain success. I've also read things about writers getting burned by more successful professionals in the business, be it television/film or publishing.

I gotta tell ya, I'm confused.

My experience of writers and potential mentors is completely different. I find writers--at any stage of success--to be nothing but supportive, encouraging, and complimentary. They will buy your book just to give you your royalty (even when it's practically pennies); they'll plug your book even when they're too poor to buy it themselves; they'll refer you to a store or a website or a person that could possibly benefit you and your pursuit of publication and/or sales. They'll offer honest, critical feedback, and help you find your talent when it disappears in the middle of the night. And they'll praise you when you've found it and you're in the zone.

Professionals in the business, the ones who have achieved the success you're striving for, are not much different. They want to help you be the best writer you can be. They want your success as much as you do, whether they have a stake in it or not.

I once got my book into the hands of a big-time editor at a major publishing company. In the end, he decided that the book wasn't a right match. But he gave me excellent feedback and assured me that it had nothing to do w/ the quality of the writing. Wished me well.

I know of another highly successful writer who offers help to his fans -- he's no pushover, mind you. But he freely dispenses advice, and I have no doubt that he'd pick up the phone and use his influence if the writer was really talented and those other factors were clicked into place.

I'm sure there are exceptions to these fabulous people -- there always are -- but my point is this: What is your attitude towards writers, towards success, towards yourself?

I concede that it is a tough business (and we published authors have to remind ourselves about the business part constantly), but if all you ever focus on is the tough part, how do you expect to be break through? How do you expect to be received? Rejections happen, and some of them are so disappointing they downright suck, but there's always something to be gained by them (a reminder that you can't please everyone, for starters; and many agents say that they turn down good writing all the time). The really golden ones are the ones that come with feedback.

The "show me the money" days are over. Of course I want to sell books and make money. But I'll never do it if I maintain the attitude that I deserve it, dammit, after all, I'm a professional, and who the hell do those people think they are... Entitlement is not becoming.

This may seem to contradict what I've said in previous posts about writing being a rather selfish act. In that context, I'm talking about the process and even the purpose. But I don't think it should be in this context. Don't buy into the lie that writers are pitted against each other, and that when it comes to agents and publishing, it's them against us. If that's your experience, then I suggest you need to do some serious introspection before you point the finger outward. What goes around comes around.

You can't support every single author out there. You can't buy every book and plug every single one of 'em. But wish 'em well. Write down their name -- maybe down the line things will change. Congratulate them when they get a win, big or small (writing 1000 words is a win). Pay forward the kindness a fellow writer has bestowed on you. We're all in this together, after all.

writers block in action

I'm having a bout of writers block. Right now.

I'm staring at the screen, and it's staring back at me. I hear this voice in my head nagging, "write something witty, write something witty, write something witty... write something good" but I got nuthin'.

So I go to MS Word, and I open up my manuscript file. And it's staring back at me too.

This.

This is what it's like.

My writers block is born out of a desperate need to please others, and a deep fear that anything and everything I write is and will be crap. Beneath that "write something witty" nagging is the thought: I want to make you laugh today. I want you to think, Ah, that Elisa. Such a witty one. So talented. So good at what she does.

But I fear you are really thinking, Where did I put my keys?

It's already noon and I haven't done a damn thing yet. (Ok, so I didn't get up until after 10:00. I had a little trouble sleeping last night.) What kills me is that the moment is going to come when I'm so busy I don't know which way to turn, and yet I'm going to be bursting w/ ideas, itching to drop everything and get it all down on the page.

But right now, I've got all day.

And I got nuthin'.