law of success #1: definite chief aim

Unlike other milestones in my life, the decision to self-publish wasn't a "eureka" moment for me. I'd waffled for months before finally deciding that I had enough networking skills to get Faking It into the hands of readers other than my friends and family (almost a year before ebooks were the hot new thing). Even greater than my faith in my networking skills was faith in Faking It. Despite having once believed that I wasn't a fiction writer and not knowing who would want to read this story other than my rhet-comp friends, I had come to believe that I had told a good story, and told it well. And I believed with all of my heart that there was indeed an audience waiting for it. If the publishers didn't want it, then I'd take it to the streets myself.

So I did some research and decided on Lulu.com. I learned how to format a Word document to make it look like a professional book, and edited the manuscript to the best of my ability. I learned how to find stock photos, and used the primitive cover design tools at the time to make a cover. I went through several incarnations and mistakes until I came up with the "official" book.

And, with no working capital, I put all this expense on an already well-worn credit card.

Next, I went to work on getting the word out. I had recently gotten a Facebook page as well as a Twitter account. I blogged about my new novel (although by then it was four years old). I followed the lead of others who were finding success with self-publishing, and learned what I could about book promotion. I approached bookstores and tried to set up readings. It wasn't an organized plan, per se, but every attempt served the same purpose: get Faking It into the hands of readers.

I did something else at this time as well. I kept a vision board. (For those who don't know, a vision board is a tool to help manifest an intention. Want to re-do your kitchen? Tack pictures of your dream kitchen onto a corkboard. Want a house on the beach someday? A new job? A relationship? You get the idea.) My vision board included, among other things, a collage of writers I admired (including a photo of Andre Dubus III and me at Quail Ridge Books), slogans like "Go for it," and two strategically juxtaposed cutouts of "New York Times Bestseller" and my book cover. At night, before going to sleep, I would visualize Faking It on displays in bookstores, customers bringing them up to the cashwrap, sitting in coffeeshops and in airports reading.

Little did I know that that vision was going to be actualized, only the "bookshelf" was virtual, and the bestseller list was Amazon rather than the New York Times. And "getting my book into the hands of readers" surpassed my intention and imagination by leaps and bounds.

When I heard about self-publishing on the Kindle and saw Stacey Cochran's success, I thought, "Why not?" It was one more way to get my novel into the hands of readers. You know the rest of the story. All the pieces fell into place after that.

Here's what I'm getting at: The road to success of any kind begins with what Napoleon Hill calls the Definite Chief Aim, a central purpose or intention. But accompanying that must be "organized effort," a plan to actualize this aim or manifest your intention.

The key word in definite chief aim is definite. There can be no second-guessing when it comes to a DCA, no waffling or hemming or hawing. And without organized effort, the aim becomes aimless. Says Hill:

The habit of working with a definite chief aim [italics his] will breed in you the habit of prompt decision, and this habit will come to your aid in all that you do. Moreover, the habit of working with a definite chief aim will help you to concentrate all your attention on any given task until you have mastered it.

It took approximately two years from the time I made the decision to self-publish to the actualization of that vision board. Around that same time I had also made the decision to make writing my primary source of income (a story I will save for a follow-up post). That took even longer. There's no law that says your goals must be actualized in a manner of days or weeks. In fact, persistence is key. And the picture of what you want might morph over time, as mine did. Circumstances or events might cause you to alter the game plan, and that's ok. But your definite chief aim must remain intact.

A nonfiction book proposal is a great example of definite chief aim and organized effort in motion. An author gets an idea for a book. She then systematically presents the idea, the need, the audience, the market, and the plan of completion to an agent or editor. In addition, she provides an outline and sample chapters. In essence, she has just completed a blueprint of her brainchild, and a plan to manifest it. She has set the universal wheels in motion. Some fiction writers work in a similar manner, extensively outlining their novel before beginning to write it.

When I am asked how an aspiring author decides whether to traditionally or self-publish, my first response is, "Know what you want."As an author, set your intention: Do you want to supplement your income? Do you want the prestige of a traditional publisher? (Although some will challenge that such a thing no longer exists, or that the playing field has leveled.) Do you want to be the next Stephen King, or Amanda Hocking? Do you want to simply write your books and not get caught up in all that online social networking and promotion? Are you willing to wear so many hats of a self-publisher? Do you want writing to be your only source of income? Et cetera.

There's nothing wrong with aspiring to have the success of Suzanne Collins or Stephanie Meyer or Stephen King. There's nothing wrong with saying "I want to make a ton of money from my books. I want to be a mega-bestselling author." There's nothing wrong with a definite chief aim of joining the Kindle Million Club (selling one million Kindle copies). All too often writers are discouraged from having such lofty goals. They're immediately shut down by being told that such successes are the exception, not the norm (not to say that that's not true, but that shouldn't be a reason not to pursue it for yourself), and that wanting that kind of success somehow defiles the art and craft of literature ("real writers aren't rich"). And while I absolutely encourage writers to write what they love rather than what they think is a bestseller, there's no reason that they can't aspire for their book to be one and the same. And although there's always an X-factor to why books become successful, persistence and a plan (as well as creative visualization) go a long way.

I can hear skeptics tell me that I'm selling false hope to my readers right now. But I have too many examples of these practices in my own life (a definite chief aim backed by organized effort) to know that success happens on any scale. The trick is not to attach yourself to the picture as much as to the process.

Other tips:
Make a decision. There's nothing worse than waffling. I know. I've done it. Waffling is the result of fear--fear of failing, fear of poverty, you name it. Sometimes you just have to take the risk and make the leap. And sometimes that's easier said than done. I know that, too. But the very act of deciding brings with it its own special kind of power and energy.

And while you're at it, know why you want what you want.

Make a plan. This is something I'm learning to do in a more specific way, instead of making it up as I go along. Lately I've been really into the idea of the proposal. Write your own proposal, be it for a house or a book or to meet someone you admire. Write it for you, and show no one else, but keep it somewhere you'll see it, and read it often. It's ok if you don't follow the plan precisely, and it doesn't need to be so uber-organized that every moment is accounted for, but it should have some focus.

Tell as few people as possible. I am very secretive when it comes to novel ideas and works in progress. I also keep my vision boards private, and don't share my affirmations or talk a lot about my DCAs of any kind. I find that when I inadvertently announce my plans for something, I'm met with some kind of negative response (also inadvertent sometimes), be it laughing or discouragement or skepticism. Nothing will sap your momentum quicker. No one needs to know. The definite chief aim is yours and yours alone.

Be persistent, yet flexible. Your DCA may take years to actualize. That's ok. Stephen King got countless rejections before he sold Carrie (and were it not for his wife fishing it out of the trash, it wouldn't have been published at all!) The Help got something like 200 rejections. A Pixar film is years in the making. Setbacks happen along the way. Make adjustments, but don't give up, and don't let anyone sway you. If you believe in your book, or your business idea, or your Beetle, you'll find a way to birth it.

Be responsible. Mortgaging your house or going further into credit card debt probably isn't a good plan, especially if you have a family (yes, this is the "do as I say, not as I did" part of the program; but in my defense, I was willing to take the risk -- and responsibility for my actions -- given that I only had myself to support). And competition is a good thing, but unethically sabotaging someone in the process (like stealing someone's great idea) will only bring you trouble.

Know what you want and why you want it, make a plan to get it, and rather than adopting the attitude of "I won't believe it until I see it," make it a practice to "see it when I believe it."

Happy writing.

mind-ing the business of writers

Aaron Sorkin has put these words into the mouths of several of his characters: "If you're not smartest guy in the room, then surround yourself with smart people. If you are the smartest guy in the room, then surround yourself with smart people who disagree with you."

Napoleon Hill calls this "creating the Master Mind." Look at any of the most successful leaders in the last century, and you'll see that they are only as great as the people they surround themselves with. Any time you have two or more people collaborating their talents for a common purpose, you have a master mind.

When I was a TA at UMass-Dartmouth, I invited my colleagues (consisting of other TAs, adjuncts, and tenured professors) to the then-Uncle Jon's (now Mirasol's) Cafe once a week (usually Fridays, when we most needed it), where we enjoyed each other's company (and chocolate chip muffins) and talked teaching. We would discuss what kinds of writing our students were doing, what texts we were using, what worked, didn't work, ask questions, and seek advice when faced with a troublesome student or a problematic paper. We would also steal ideas from each other constantly (with each other's permission, of course). I have no doubt that these weekly "coffee klatches" made me a better teacher. Additionally, being a teacher and student simultaneously came with its own kind of enrichment (that more than compensated for the stress). There's something stimulating about being immersed in the very theory you put to practice on a daily basis, something that makes you want to do better, be better.

The same is true for writers.

Writers groups aren't only places to give and receive feedback on drafts in progress. They can be discussion groups of books we've read, genres we'd like to explore, styles we want to try out. And they can be a support system when you're stuck in that writer's mud. I enjoy talking about writing with other writers as much as I enjoy talking about the teaching of writing with other writing teachers. I enjoy their company.

My point is this: the act of writing is often a solitary one, but when it comes to the business of being a writer--specifically, a published author--to be successful, you must surround yourself with a group of smart, talented individuals to make your writing intentions come to fruition. (Of course, you need to have a clear vision of those intentions, but that'll be next week's post.) The whole really is greater than the sum of its parts.

This is especially important for self-published authors, who typically wear the hats of writer, editor, cover designer, publicist, advertiser, web designer, agent, tech support, and more. I was one of those do-it-all self-publishers, mainly because I had no money to hire others to do these things for me. When I give advice to aspiring self-publishers today, I tell them that one thing I would do differently is to learn more up front. If I am going to take on the role of cover designer, for example, then I need to learn everything I can about cover design: Photoshop, graphics, typeface, etc. That means either reading books, taking a beginner's class, or asking someone who knows Photoshop really well to give me a few lessons. Or, I need to come up with working capital to pay someone to design the cover for me, someone who's way better at it than I am.

Were I to self-publish today, I'd hire a cover designer and an editor, for starters (and I'd make sure I had the money to invest in them first). Why? Because another thing I learned from my experience was that I'm pretty bad at graphic design (despite having almost pursued it as a career when I was fresh out of high school) and good at editing, but not enough for the level of excellence I have for my finished product. I'm also not the best organizer and planner. I am, however, good at networking, and I'm a good ideas-person. I can contribute to the development of these things and let someone more talented execute them. That is also the value of a master mind-- the "mind" works collectively, in synergy. We all put something into the soup, or we stir, or even bless it.

As an author with a publisher, I still find master minds invaluable. Consider all of the following:

• My fellow Amazon Publishing authors and I brainstorm ideas about improving websites, taking advantage of social networking and technology to sell more books, and just plain ol' have a good time talking to each other. Each of us is good at something. Some of us are better at some things than others. We all bring something to the table. Best of all, we cheer for and support each other, plug each other's books, blogs, appearances, etc. We are not in competition with each other to sell books; rather, we are in solidarity to sell books.

• My fellow writers and I help each other get past stumbling blocks, workshop a page or two, vent our frustrations and share our successes. I take all my screenwriting efforts to my fellow screenwriters, who make them good. Why I Love Singlehood co-author Sarah Girrell and I can spend hours talking plots, characters, what-ifs. She is the first person I go to for feedback. My twin brother is another.
  

• My relationship with my publisher is such that I am part of their team. It's not "what are you doing for me," but rather, "What can I do for you?" and "Thank you." That sentiment runs both ways.

These groups don't have to be in the same room to be effective. In fact, in each of the above cases, my fellow master-minders are spread out across the country, even overseas. Would I like us to be in the same room? Yes, for the selfish reason of enjoying their company and needing a hug every now and then. But we are every bit as effective virtually as we would be physically. Every single one of them makes my books the best they can be.

Your master mind can also be comprised of those who you don't know personally, but are still in a position to inspire or advise you. In other words, READ. Read whatever you can get your hands on. I never get tired of reading Stephen King's On Writing. I dust off my favorite rhetoric and composition texts when I need to re-charge my battery (and really should start looking at what's new). I take advantage of blogposts, articles, and anything else that keeps me in the loop with the publishing industry and success stories of other authors. I read screenplays, novels in my genre, etc.

No matter where you work or what kind of career you're in, a master mind is a vital and enriching part of your success. If you want to be better at your present job (or you want to advance your career), start meeting with your colleagues or others in your field once a week, every other week, or once a month, be it virtually or physically. If you want to do something more fulfilling with your life, start surrounding yourself with those who can help you make that move. Most important, come to these groups ready to contribute what you can. You always have something to offer.

a new hope

"Welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends..."

Is there anyone out there?

Most, if not all, of you know that my blog has been on hiatus for at least five months now, coming out once to rave about The Way. Many of you also know the identity crisis this blog has had from Day One, it seems, despite my stating clearly that it's about writing and my being a working writer. I had decided that I wasn't going to return unless I had something I really wanted to say or write about.

Well, I think I've found that something.

I recently read a book called The Law of Success, by Napoleon Hill. Published in 1928, it is a 600+page course about fifteen shared traits of successful people, the culmination of 20 years of close observation of some of the giants of the time, ranging from Ford to Edison to Carnegie to Woolworth and many, many more. (Given the time period, it's rather male-dominated. There are also some references that, by today's standards, are rather politically incorrect and actually made me wince, but I can't hold that against him.) Despite its being over 80 years old, it's surprising to see how relevant the book is (and, moreover, how needed it is in today's economy).

While reading this course, I was delighted to find how many of the principles I'd put into practice almost naturally, albeit not in an organized manner. Parts of the book were eye-opening--not because the content was new, but because I was seeing new ways to apply it.

One way was in the classroom. I'd been having a rather difficult time this semester, especially with motivation (both of students and myself). The more I read this course, the more I wanted to be teaching those principles. And so, I found a way to do so while still meeting the objectives of the course. I tossed out the syllabus, and the remaining assignments, and wrote new ones. The change in the class, and myself, was instant.

Another way is here, on this blog. Specifically, I want to present the Law of Success to writers.

All too often, when I attend writing workshops, panel discussions, and conferences, I hear writers and speakers say this: "Don't expect to make any money from it." At one time, I was one of those people who conformed to this mentality, until I started to wonder: Why? If writing is my passion, the one thing I want to spend my life doing, why shouldn't I expect to be paid for it? Moreover, why shouldn't I make it a priority to make a living from it? Why go into any career with such a defeated attitude, especially before taking one step?

I wanted to make money. I wanted to make a living from my writing. And so I decided I would. It's taken five years to do so, but I'm finally at the point where I'm ready to make the leap.

What I want to do here is present the principles of the Law of Success, one per week, and tailor them specifically for writers. However, any reader of my blog, in any career, can apply these principles to their jobs, families, hobbies, goals, aspirations, etc. My aim is not to sell you a get-rich-quick scheme, to promise that you'll become a best-selling author, or to give you a formula. I do not see this as a self-help book, or a self-help course. Rather, my aim is to show you the possibilities, to awaken your creative spirits, and to have a little fun along the way (after all, say Ben & Jerry, "if it's not fun, why do it?"). I have, by no means, mastered all of these traits. But I am delighted to see how many of them were at work when I reflect on my own success stories, be it as a teacher or a writer. I'll be sharing those as well. And I look forward to learning as I teach.

I hope you'll join me for the ride.

buen camino (and a thank-you to Emilio Estevez)

A few weeks ago, I went to see a film called The Way, starring Martin Sheen and written and directed by his son, Emilio Estevez, and haven't stopped thinking about it since.

Sheen plays an American father named Tom who, under tragic and unexpected circumstances, embarks on the Camino de Santiago, also known as "The Way of Saint James." And, of course, what he finds along the journey is also beyond his expectations.

I'm being deliberately vague in my description of the film. This is one of those times where I want to give nothing away. I want you to come to the journey as ill-prepared as Tom.

I had to wait at least a week before The Way came to a theater near me. When I was on Long Island two weeks ago, I tried to find a theater close enough so I could take my mother to see it, but we had no luck. I was disappointed; I knew she would be as profoundly moved by the film as I was, and I so wanted to share the moment with her in person.

The Way contains no CGI. There are no explosions, no vampires, and no American heartthrobs. No sex, no guns, and no killing. You can see why Hollywood wanted nothing to do with this film. This is also not a religious film. But there is death, there is love, there is hope, and there is the journey. Not to mention the scenery. The scenery alone is worth it.

Last night I had the opportunity (and honor) to speak with Emilio Estevez via a "fan phone chat" thanks to a contest posted on the Facebook page The Way The Movie (Go there. Click "Like". Now. Please.) Because there were many in line to speak with him, we were each allowed only one question. However, we were able to listen in on his conversations with the other lucky callers while we awaited our turn.

A friend of mine on Facebook remarked how cool it was that I was about to talk to a celebrity. But when the call ended, I realized that was not the case. I hadn't talked to a celebrity. Kim Kardashian is a celebrity. Justin Bieber is a celebrity. No, I had conversed with an actor, writer, and director. Better yet, a fellow storyteller. We talked about writing, and there was a moment when Emilio spoke about writer's block ("as I'm sure you know all about," he said; oh dear God, yes) when I knew I was talking to a kindred spirit. In fact, I was nodding my head throughout the entire conversation, and not just the one he had with me.

All that was great. But that's not what inspired me to write this post.

For the last few months, I've been going to a park near me with a walking path, three to four times a week, and completing anywhere from three to five miles in one stretch. Lately I've been feeling somewhat like Tom--frustrated, fearful, head down, eyes in front. I've had my iPod Shuffle on, yet my mind has been a one-track-thought, looping incessantly.

This morning was no different. Despite having a great night, I woke up deflated. I walked head down, music on, frustrated, fearful, the whole nine yards. Interestingly, I had forgotten to put on both my watch and pedometer (two days before that I'd forgotten to bring my water bottle, to give you an idea of how distracted I've been lately).

At some point I started to replay not just my conversation with Emilio, but some of the other conversations I'd listened to. I thought about some of the things he said (and I'm paraphrasing, at best):
"I'm interested in making films that are uplifting, that feed the soul."
"I'm still on the journey. I get to re-live it every day by hearing all of your stories and experiences."
"I'm a storyteller."

And then it hit me: I'm on the Camino. Right now.

I turned off my iPod and started listening to the ducks quacking, the leaves rustling, the other walkers chatting while their dogs explored. I took notice of how beautiful the foliage is (it's piquing here in North Carolina), how the sun was dappling on the water, streaming between the branches. I exchanged friendly hellos with other walkers.

And sure enough, the fears and frustrations melted away. I found myself mentally composing again: Ideas for the novel-in-progress (the protagonist is a screenwriter, after all--what kind of movies does he want to make?). Ideas for this blog post. Solutions rather than problems. I even remembered a scene from Ordinary World, when Andi begins to write a novel about two travelers on the Appalachian Trail. Her working title was called Walking. Maybe she was on to something. Or maybe I was when I wrote it.

As writers and storytellers, we're all on the journey. Writers so often walk in solitude. But we need that connection with others to make it from place to place. And not just writers. We all do.

That path in the park I go to may not be the Camino de Santiago, but miracles can happen there. And for seventy to ninety minutes, I can walk. Reflect. Heal. Just be. The path is a circle. I don't have to "get" anywhere.

It's not even about the walking. It's about the journey. It's about the way.

Find a theater. Travel, if you must. Go see this film. Tell your friends about it. Spread the word. Then find your own path.

Thank you, Emilio, for making this film.

Buen Camino!

follow-up to "yep, I'm blog fatigued"

Thank you to all who responded to last week's blog post either here, on Facebook, Twitter, email, or in person. One of the things I learned was that many of you are reading, but not commenting. I can certainly relate to this since I try to keep up to date with certain blogs but don't comment. I also learned that some are not only blog-fatigued, but internet-fatigued in general. Too much screen time, not enough face time. I can relate to that as well. I especially appreciate those who didn't want to see the blog go away, who look forward to my posts and little lessons. Again, thank you all.

Alas, after a week of reflection, I've decided to put the blog on hiatus at least until the end of this year. My priority is getting my novel finished and giving my students the attention they need. Not to worry, you can still catch up with me on Twitter or my Facebook author page. And who knows-- inspiration may strike, and I may have something to post here. I wouldn't be opposed to that.

And so, to repeat once more (sometimes repetition in writing is a good thing), thank you again for your feedback, encouragement, and support. I couldn't have had all these wonderful writing achievements had it not been for you.

See you on the flip side.

yep, I'm blog fatigued

This past week the topic of “blog fatigue” has popped up in various places (Nathan Bransford being the latest), as well as the debate by both agents and authors about whether authors need to start (or continue) blogging. I can certainly relate. Those of you who have been loyal readers of my blog, especially in the last few years, know the identity crisis it occasionally goes through from time to time. Like me, my blog has re-invented itself more than once. But as the woman behind the blog, I am not certain I want to continue putting in the time an effort to keep its identity intact. Yep, I'm blog fatigued.

I have my reasons. For one, keeping a blog is time-consuming. I bow down to those who have consistently, reliably posted every weekday (I’m lookin’ at you, Elspeth!), keeping their posts fresh and fun. I know that even if I can’t read it every day, I at least know it is there. My teaching responsibilities and my writing/author responsibilities (that includes promotion, etc.) count as two full-time jobs. It can take me up to one hour, sometimes longer, to craft one blog post (I should time myself now as I write this one). Doesn’t sound like much time, but for me, it is. I want to put that hour elsewhere, either into reading or writing, or, when the semester starts to get crazy (like now), grading. I’m lucky to complete one post a week, and even that can be difficult to maintain, as you’ve seen. Without consistency, the credibility of the blog suffers.

Another reason I’m considering putting my blog on indefinite hiatus is that I think the internet is oversaturated with blogs, and readers simply can’t get to them all. Take a look at the blog list on this page—I rarely get to read more than two of them on a fairly regular basis. I believe mine is lost in that shuffle, and based on the number of comments I get per blog, I question how many followers are reading my blog on a regular basis. That may be an unfair conclusion to draw, but so be it.

Besides, I don’t think I’m writing anything original. The things I have to say about writing have already been said by Stephen King, Donald Murray, Peter Elbow, Anne Lamott, Nora Ephron, Larry Gelbart, and more. I just try to apply a firsthand perspective and some humor to it. I could easily share some of these tidbits via Twitter or my Facebook author page, and perhaps save a blog post for those times when 140 characters won’t cut it, or when I get really inspired.

I’m a teacher as much as I am a writer. I enjoy sharing stories and ideas about the craft, the process—I thrive in a classroom. There are times when this blog has been a classroom—I think that’s what I had wanted to be when I started it almost five years ago. But I think it’s time for me to find new classrooms, new forums, and, most of all, to do what I want to do more than anything else right now—write my novels.

What has kept me here all this time has been YOU, my dear readers, and I’m hesitant to leave you. I’d like to hear from you. Do you follow my blog on a regular basis but don’t comment? Do you look forward to my blog posts? Are you frustrated by the inconsistency? If I kept the blog going, are there topics you’d like to see me write about that I haven’t, or perhaps topics you’re sick of me writing about? Or are you also suffering from blog fatigue, as I am? I can’t make any promises, but I’d like for you to have a say. Thanks.

stepping out of solitary

A couple of days ago I was struggling to write the final chapter of my novel-in-progress. I knew exactly what the ending was going to be, but tying up the loose ends to get to said ending was proving to be a bit of a challenge. (Part of the problem was that my characters had "forgotten" to an address an issue in prior chapters -- yes, I blame it on them -- and I was attempting to confront it in the final chapter.) And so I did the very things I discussed in last week's blog post -- I sought out my trusted inner circle of writers and talked out some possible scenarios for getting from Point A to Point B.

The very act of explaining the scenario to my fellow writers revealed another oversight that could unravel a whole lot more of the plot. They talked it out with me, gave me ideas, asked questions. They were very helpful and I was so grateful to have them to talk it out with. And yet, the re-writing task felt rather daunting.

That same day, my Why I Love Singlehood co-author happened to ask me how the writing was going, and I shared my frustrations. She invited me to send her the chapter for peer review, and I jumped at the chance faster than I pounce upon a package of Pop Tarts.

Sarah responded to the draft no differently than she would have were it a WILS draft--she asked direct questions, made suggestions for word changes, pointed out problems, and assured me that she wanted to keep reading. She could tell where I'd hit my stride as well as where (and when) I'd hit the wall.

It was like being home.

It's funny how, as a writer, you know the difference between showing and telling. You know the former is preferred over the latter. And yet, you don't seem to realize just how much you're telling rather than showing until someone like Sarah points it out to you. I love her ability to do this for me. I love that she chooses words I wouldn't have thought about, and yet they're perfect. I love that she gets me thinking about ways to tie up those loose ends, and reminds me not to take the easy way out. Best of all, I love that the act of her responding to my draft not only made me eager to get back to work on my chapter, but also re-invigorated her excitement for her own work-in-progess.

Perhaps my writing partner and I were just missing each other and our collaboration. We've enjoyed working solo, but we also enjoyed our collaborative process, and all it gave to us.

Writing is so often a solitary act. But every now and then, we need to step out of that solitary confinement and go out into the community of other writers. As I mentioned in last week's post, there comes a point when we need to share our writing, talk things out, and cheer each other on. Perhaps this is a need that not only applies to writers, but to all human beings--the need to belong, to be part of a group or a community. From one writer to another (and from one human to another), I invite and encourage you to find yours.