How Being a Writer Changes You

By Pamela

Cats at the vet

My girl asked me the other day, when I was a kid, what did I want to be. I remember my little self wanting to be a vet. I loved animals and still do, but when I learned about euthanasia, I changed my mind. Then, a fascination with the show Quincy, M.E. (starring Jack Klugman) gave me a brief aspiration to become a medical examiner. Then the thought of having to autopsy a child hit me, and that dream vanished, too. I still had a love of science, so I started college as a pre-pharmacy major. During my sophomore year, I decided spending my life behind a counter didn't sound too thrilling (and I was struggling with my anatomy class), so I changed majors to marketing. I didn't really plan to be a writer; rather the career found me. And now that I am, I realize how much my work affects my daily life; maybe yours too.

You no longer 'read for pleasure'

Sure, you can pick up a book and enjoy it, but every story is a lesson. You either marvel at the prose or become frustrated at the overuse of adverbs or cliched dialog. You no longer think 'this is a great story' but 'how did the writer pull this off?' You rarely read a book as a complete work but rather sit in awe at the pacing, the POV, the plot. Or maybe you reread books you once loved and think, 'Really? This isn't any good at all!' You also can't quiet your inner editor while reading (or on social media and someone types 'your so pretty' or any number of errors that makes you want to reach out and slap someone). Or maybe that's just me ...

The news becomes fodder for a story

You can't pick up the paper, watch TV or prowl the Web without deeming an interesting piece of news a potential story. Man burns down house while trying to kill a spider? Yep. Happens and wouldn't he make a great character in a novel? Woman discovers her husband was also her father? Ew, but yet it happened and, when you're in need of a good 'twist' in your novel, there you go. Jodi Picoult has made a career out of taking headline news items and crafting them into best-selling novels--Nineteen Minutes (school shooting), My Sister's Keeper (sibling marrow/organ donor), The Pact (teen suicide) and a dozen more. You might not write 'ripped from the headlines' stories, but you do keep an eye and an ear trained for news you can use--even if it's a juicy piece of gossip you hear from a neighbor. (Names changed, of course.)

You become more observant

A baby's velvet ear. 

You might not be the most poetic person in the room but you can't help staring at the burning sunset or watching two ambitious lizards wrangle a moth. You marvel at a baby's velvet ear or prefer a midsummer thunderstorm over a fireworks display. While the rest of the world stares at their phone screens, you prefer to watch the awkward college student attempt to talk to the pretty girl at the ballgame. If you're not working, you choose the table at the coffee shop nearest to the most eccentric-looking customers in hopes of overhearing some conversation.

Coffee shop patrons

You are constantly learning craft

My girl has recently taken to heart the phrase: You learn something new every day. And so she'll often ask me at night, "What did you learn today?" I nearly always have something to contribute. I know I'll never learn all there is to know about writing and have marveled at times that anything I wrote 10 years ago was even fit for public consumption. Part of your writing style is intuitive. You can't deny a certain giftedness you must possess. But I know I depend on my AP Stylebook to help me with an issue at least once every other week. I learn new words all the time--and then forget half of them, so they're 'new' again the next time we cross paths. I still can't explain to you what 'close third' is in POV even though it's been explained to me a few times. If you're reading, you're learning about writing. If you're writing, you're also learning by trial and error. Never stop learning ... that would mean you've either given up on writing or died. Either would make me sad.

You meet amazing people

When I moved to Texas nine years ago, I knew four people in my town ... and I'm related to all of them. It didn't take long before my homebodied-self ventured out to the library to take a class on writing taught by two authors--Britta Coleman and Candace Havens. At that class, I met a couple writers (who I still connect with via Facebook). From there I drove across uncharted freeways to Richardson Library for another gathering of writers and met Joan and Kim. (Best move EVER!!) It's amazing the number of people you meet while writing if you get out and explore. Visit writing groups, find a critique group, attend author signings, go to writing conferences. Sure you can discover a wealth of resources online, but making yourself reach out to like-minded individuals can keep you from giving up when the going gets rough. And who hasn't felt the urge to find a creative outlet that's less taxing on the ego?

These are just a few ways writing has changed me. How about you?

Flickr images of: 'cats at the vet' by Kami Jo; 'baby ear' by Tilman Zitzmann; 'coffee shop patrons' by Neo_II. 

The Time Machine

By Susan

I've been compiling books to deliver to the InternationalBook Project over the past few weeks. My dining room is stacked tall with cardboard boxes. For the past two years, every time I drive to Kentucky from Texas I fill my car with as many spines as I can, and this trip is no exception.

After a mad rush of spring cleaning right before Easter, I decided to thin my own shelves as well, and I filled a box with book titles ranging from John Grisham's paperbacks to marketing and PR titles from my prior life in advertising sales. For a brief moment, I thought about the working life I had before leaping off the proverbial cliff to write full time and to obtain my MFA in Creative Writing. I didn't dwell on that prior life on that day last week, instead I tossed the books into a box and set them aside.

Yesterday I shuffled and organized the books and one particular self-help type business book stood out to me. I couldn't remember buying it or reading it, yet there it was. I flipped it open to see the following inscription (in the photo below): April 24, 2005.

Upon reading that date, I actually stepped away from the book. Nine years ago, to the day, exactly. Then I picked it back up and carried it to my patio to read it. Each chapter was designed with questions at the end, and 80% of the book was filled with my own notes. It was as if I'd opened a time machine.

Nine years ago, my youngest daughter hadn't even started kindergarten, and right now she's planning for junior high (that put things in perspective!). I had a full-time job in advertising sales management, working fifty-hour weeks, striving for promotions and fruitlessly, endlessly seeking my boss's approval. The questions at chapter ends were designed to help the reader find a life purpose and mission. They were simple questions, yet I scribbled in the margins extensively, answering each probe as though my future depended on it.

Perhaps it did.

Here's an example question, and my embarrassingly fearful answers:

3. When was the last time you took a risk in the direction of your dream?

I'm afraid of myself—of "too much risk." How can I do what I want to do and take the time to write and be published and get it all done? … Then again, why am I so sure I am supposed to be writing? What am I supposed to write? … What is my direction? Maybe if I could figure it out I wouldn't be so scared.

And then, this, dated May 16, 2005:

I long to write full time. I don't even know what that means—retreats, conferences, a community of writers? Workshops? Accountability as a writer? (terrifying) Publishing a novel? (more terrifying) What is the answer here? If I wrote full time, I could be free. And yet I feel safe in my current world. I'm too afraid to branch out. Why am I scared of the words?

I was surprised at my own thirty-three year old voice. In other entries I wrote about feeling rudderless, about having no purpose other than going to work every day and being a mom (both important purposes, I'm not diminishing those roles in any way). From these entries, it appears quite clear that nine years ago I was seeking some sort of permission from myself to pursue my calling. And I was terrified of writing. 

And here I am now, following my purpose in delivering books to my favorite non-profit. Following my dreams of being a writer by finalizing the third draft of my novel. Yesterday, I talked to my agent-- a relationship I would never have dreamed of having nine years ago. In June, I'm returning for my second residency with my MFA program, and I'm planning creative writing workshops-- to teach, not to attend-- for the fall. 

What if nine years ago I'd given in to my own fears, and I'd never carved out those late nights to begin the painful (very painful) first steps toward writing a novel? What if I'd let the terrifying thought of leaving my career enslave me? Would I be sitting on my beautiful patio with a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers, a cup of coffee, and sleeping dogs on my toes, or would I be in an office, making split-second decisions, and hiring and firing, all while daydreaming of a writing life?

Thinking about those questions prompted me to write a letter from myself at fifty to the me sitting right here, right now. She's the same me from nine years ago (although a lot less fearful). I'm still not where I want to be as a writer. My mission is still in progress. So what is the best advice I can give myself? Here's a small snippet of that letter. 

It's all going to work out. Keep writing. Don't stop writing because you face rejection or disappointments or are getting older—you'll still get older, anyway. Embrace getting older. Love your face and lungs and legs and hands. Love your words. Love your work. Be hopeful about the future. Take care of your health. Look forward to all the love in your life. Keep writing and keep following your passions and your purpose. And don't ever, ever give up.

And so I'm passing this on to you, just in case you are the fearful me from 2005. Or maybe you're where I am now, in the middle and on the cusp of bigger things. Maybe you are the fifty-year-old writer looking forward to your next decade of your writing life and looking back on your success. I certainly don't have any answers about how to do it, this writing life thing. I have a lot less money now than I did back then, but I'd like to think I'm on the right road to gaining far more than I ever dreamed.

Storytelling

By Susan

Summer is in full swing here in Texas-- as the Southeast is drowning in torrential rains and the Southwest is baking in 125+ degree heat, Texas is cruising right along into bright blue summertime.

As children are coming and going from camps, fireworks are exploding above and vacations are beginning, I can't help but think of the summers of my childhood: cool nights with my parents and extended family. Older cousins full of trickery, swimming pools and deep lakes. And because I frame my memories as stories, I can't help but think think of the storytellers of my youth.

My grandmother was a divine storyteller. She read Uncle Remus to my sisters and me with a full cast of voices and actions: rabbits and foxes and tar babies. My mother put us to bed every summer night with a sing-song prayer that included the names of everyone in our family, and sometimes, if we were lucky, a short tale she'd make up herself. My grandfather was known to spin a yarn-- although most times they weren't fit for children's ears.

When my own daughters were younger, I carried on that tradition of stories read aloud, of sing-song prayers, and of the bedtime tale. And in the course of my fiction, I've realized that words like author and writer have never felt overly comfortable to me, as though they fit like clothes sewn for someone else. Yet the word storyteller-- that's something I can relate to. There are great writers who form beautiful sentences, but the talent I most admire in a writer is the ability to tell a story.

What are the greatest elements of storytelling? I like to think of the simple campfire ghost story. What makes it work? Here is my summer list of what makes a great story. How can you incorporate these elements into any story you write?

1. Suspense-- can your story keep your audience's attention?
2. Pacing and Timing-- Can you move the story forward with rising action, building toward a climax?
3. Rhythm-- When you read your story aloud, does it have a cadence? Short sentences framed by longer ones, alliteration, and other literary devices designed to make your story sing?

When your story feels stuck, revisit the old campfire story, and don't worry about going over the top. You can always scale it back if needed. When you find your inner storyteller, let her loose. Spin a yarn, tell a tale.

Happy summer writing!

Revising Your Novel

By Susan

This morning, for the first day of summer 2013, I enjoyed my coffee on my Texas patio before diving back in to my day's work of revising my manuscript. I called my father to wish him a happy birthday and we exchanged news. And at the end of our conversation he said—as he has ended every conversation with me for the past few months—"Turn in the manuscript."

I suppose it appears to him that I am sitting on this draft. He read an early version in March, and—because he is my father—loved it. Yet just because a draft is complete doesn't mean that it is the best possible draft you can submit, whether to agents with a query letter, to your agent, or to your editor. Editing as you go ensures that you have fewer errors—that's true. But revisions are not line edits. To revise is to step back and see your work differently. Revision is to go deeper.

In the course of the past few months, I've learned some tips about my own process that might be helpful to any writer while tackling revisions. Of course, each writer has his or her own way of working, but I've found that by gathering every tool possible from other writers, I've been able to fine-tune what works for me and for this manuscript. I've learned that even though the first draft may take months or years, you're not doing yourself any favors by letting it loose in the world without taking the time to revise. Here are some tips:

1.     Take things apart—and don't go easy. Break down chapters by sentence, paragraph and scene. Take out weak verbs and flimsy metaphors. Watch for overused phrases and words. Find and hone your theme. Writer Don Roof says, "I've found the best way to revise your own work is to pretend that somebody else wrote it and then to rip the living shit out of it." I couldn't agree more. Grade each chapter as though your are your own writing professor. Sometimes this is the only way not to hurt your own feelings.

2.     Ask yourself: Is this scene my very best work? Treat every scene in your manuscript as the most important one. Would you read this scene aloud at a book signing? Submit it to a contest? Seek publication as a short story? I found myself saying to myself, "Well, this one's not so great, but look at the next scene!" The problem with that logic is that agents, editors and readers aren't going to get past the weak scenes to find the 'good ones.' Make every scene the best it can be. I've completely rewritten several chapters—adding richness and detail, cleaning up dialog, creating symbolism—just because I asked myself that question and answered it honestly.

3.     Take as much time as you need. Sometimes, time is your best editor. Think through the order of your action: Is the tension building? Are you ending each chapter with a reason for the reader to turn the page? Do you need to raise the stakes for your protagonist and push him to risk more? Answer these bigger questions with long walks and yoga. Maybe yard work or preparing a meal. Maybe you need to sit in the sand and stare at the ocean. Whatever works for you, just be sure that you take the thinking time that you need to figure out your best solutions. Then don't be afraid to make the improvements you need to make.

4.     Rediscover your characters. Make sure they find their way through your manuscript. What is each character's goal, purpose, role and challenge? Are they interesting enough, compelling enough? I'm not of the school that they have to be "likeable" enough, but they must drive the action. Do they need more backstory, or less? Are they real and rich, or thin and stock? Give them quirks. Allow them to get angry and make mistakes. Above all—make sure they grow because of their choices and develop as the plot unfolds. No character should arrive at the end of a novel the same person they were going in; they've either gotten better or worse. Push them to become who you've created them to be.

5.     Embrace change. Read your manuscript from start to finish. I suggest print it on paper and not read it from the screen. Make notes in the margins. Then allow your revisions to take you somewhere you don't expect. If the plot changes, don't suppress it—allow it to flow. Sometimes, you'll have to reign it back in, but sometimes it will take you somewhere glorious. Don't be afraid or too stubborn. Think of yourself as a storyteller—not just a writer. And allow that story to be the best one you can possibly tell.

6.     If you can't trust yourself, work with a partner you trust instead. Critique partners need to be a unique combination of cheerleader and coach. Do they know how to push you to bring your best work to the forefront? If they are constantly full of praise, they're not the right reader for you. At the same time, if their criticism is vague, you won't know where to start. A good critique partner doesn't rewrite every sentence for you, but they can see holes in your plot, weaknesses in characters, and can provide ideas for pacing and tension. And be careful: don't overuse a critique partner to the degree that they are too close to your work to advise, too tired of it to help, or no longer able to take as much time as you feel you need. Remember: sometimes the only cook you need in your kitchen is yourself.

7.     Give yourself deadlines, but also the permission to break them. Don't rush your own creative process. Keep it beautiful and remember that it is your art—no one else's. If you are under an editor's deadline, be fair and gracious if you need extensions, but also work to have realistic goals to begin with. Setting goals will keep you from abandoning your draft when it gets difficult. And it will get difficult.

8.     Infuse it with love. If you're not writing something because you love it, perhaps you should rethink why you write. Do you love the process, the characters, the setting, the story? Make each sentence feel like a poem. Use beautiful language, but don't overdo it. Vary your sentence length to give it rhythm. And love it as though it's your favorite song—even though you might get sick of it, you can't help but sing it over and over.

What not to write

By Pamela

Stacy and Clinton of WNTW

I once was a big fan of the television show What Not to Wear, where people and a hearty sampling of their pitiful wardrobes are whisked away to NYC for a complete overhaul by Stacy and Clinton. I found it hard not to cringe, though, when those featured were criticized--at times mercilessly--for simply expressing their individuality through their fashion choices. In the end, I suppose, maybe their egos recovered when they got to take home a brand new wardrobe of the 'right' clothes.

canvas.landsend.com

I absorbed fashion advice in my formative years:

• Never wear white after Labor Day or before Easter.
• Don't mix patterns.
• Don't wear horizontal stripes; they'll make you look fat.
• Never wear orange if you're a redhead.
• And so on ...

And yet today, I wear whatever I want, whenever I want. As I'm typing this, I have on a plaid shirt and a plaid scarf--not the same fabric or really the same colors but it works, I think. One of my favorite shirts has horizontal stripes, and I've been a redhead and worn orange and pink and red without a second thought. Plus I'll wear white any month of the year--as long as it's clean.

My point is: I know the 'rules' of fashion and yet I'm not shy about breaking them if I think I can pull it off.

Joan and I recently took a class in Austin, and I found it interesting, that as the instructor rattled off some 'rules,' she countered nearly every one with an exception: an author who didn't follow convention yet found success anyway. I realized that ever since I started pursuing writing as a career, I'd read and heard a lot of advice about What Not to Write.

• Don't write more than 100,000 words for your first novel.
• Don't follow the latest trend--vampires, werewolves, zombies, etc.
• Don't start a book with a reference to the weather.
• Don't 'head-hop' or have one scene with multiple POVs or have too many POVs in one story.
• Don't start or end a book with dialog.
• Don't tell an agent that you're writing a trilogy unless you've already sold the first one. 

So, if every author followed The Ever-expanding Rules of Writing, Kathryn Stockett's first novel, The Help, which is over 150,000 words, would likely have been a much different--less compelling and shorter--story.

Many folks have hitched their keyboard to the paranormal wagon and found new ways to spin a good ol' vampire tale and done quite well. 

As far as books starting with the weather, read the opening lines of The English Patient or The Memory Keeper's Daughter. 

I'm pretty sure he never 'head-hopped' but Carl Hiassen's Skinny Dip had so many POVs, I lost track. And loved the book so much, I've read it twice.

I've also heard, "Don't write a book as though it's a journal or a diary." What about The Color Purple? And that "People don't read/like/want prologues or epilogues." Really? I didn't hear anyone complaining much about The Time Traveler's Wife or The Dive from Clausen's Pier.

Someone also advised me to not write in the present tense. As in A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius? And two other books I loved: Open, Andre Agassi's autobiography and Elizabeth Berg's Until the Real Thing Comes Along.

So, my advice to anyone who writes is this: Study the craft, learn the rules and then write what moves you. It's fine to wear white in winter while you write your vampire novel in multiple POVs in present tense with the opening scene taking place in a violent snowstorm.

Just do it well--wear it with confidence--and I'm sure you can pull it off.