Tag Archives: craft

Reflections on Resolutions and Writing

‘Tis the season.

What does your season look like?

It’s December, and I’m running around with holiday madness. I don’t have the time to remember my gift list let alone what I did or didn’t accomplish this year. In fact, if hadn’t written them down, I’d have forgotten I even had thoughts to change my world.

I don’t believe in resolutions. Too often they’re wishes without a specific plan for success. That’s why I embraced my writers’ group commitment to three Non-Resolutions for 2015. The challenge was to identify the “specific and concrete” steps to “improve yourself as a writer.” I did this thinking it a simple challenge something specific and easy it’s the end of the year, tis the season to look ahead while looking back. so I share my successes and failures in life, the universe and everything else.

How did I do? Let’s just say I take ownership of my actions and my non-actions. These were my commitments:

1.(A) Find an editor and (B) publish my memoir before June 2015.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Not even close. Every time I sat down to edit, thinking the book just needed some tweaking, I found a jumble of sentence fragments and missplelled words instead. I suspected that organizing the non-chronological series of vignettes was the problem. I came up with creative ways to procrastination. I read blog posts by fiction and nonfiction writers to learn how they handled organization. I read a memoir to see how it was organized. I found checklists to follow, but still my story didn’t flow.

That got me thinking about format and tools to ease my struggles. I purchased Scrivener, a software program has a “corkboard” to organize my thoughts and scenes so I can rearrange as often as needed with a swift swipe of my mouse. This is a useful procrastination, I told myself. I spent two weeks slugging through the detailed tutorial and then hit a snag with the program. I set it aside in frustration to continue after November’s NaNoWriMo. It’s December and is still untouched.

2.Explore at least one new book/genre and revisit an old favorite.

This was a flop. Aside from reading that one memoir early in the year, I didn’t finish another book.

I started what I presumed was “an old favorite” but it wasn’t as interesting as I remembered. I found a sci-fi book that both Mom and I read. I committed to read it at night, maybe not every night, but I put it and a spare pair of reading glasses on my nightstand for convenience. The only space available was at the edge, so the book is too far to reach, and my clumsy, ill-fitting dollar store glasses are awkward to wear. I have made reading more complicated than it should be.

3.Set aside time to journal at least once a month.

I accomplished this! I may have skipped weeks at a time, but I wrote more, that I know. That I feel. I mingled my thoughts with blog posts and ideas, sprinkled between to-do lists and notes from writers’ conferences and meetings. I rediscovered that I write more fluidly by hand, so I spent more time journaling just for the fun and love of writing on paper. Writing by hand is organic to me, so I will keep journaling.

Nothing is truly a failure. These commitments did not need to be complete, nor did they need to be completed for me to succeed. I learned about myself and gained some valuable perspectives and insights into my actions.

What did I learn?

I need to break my writing and editing tasks into smaller snippets and set a timer. Tell myself “Tuesday morning, research editors” and allot 27 minutes only. I’ll know at the end of the timer I’ll either need a break or feel inspired to keep working. It’s how I survived and won NaNoWriMo.

In 23, 27 or 33 minute segments, I wrote 50,721 words in the last 20 days of the months. I started on November 11, so this equaled 2500 words/day which for me was about 1 1/2 hours per day. That means I can find the time to write because I have the time when I’m not distracted by Major Crimes on TV or Angry Birds on my phone. I remind myself of this daily because not only is it motivating but because in the madness of the month, I discovered a 25,000-word story, a complete one that I can actually work with and interests me. I consider the purchase a distraction and a success. I can use Scrivener to organize this book as I edit to publish by the end of 2015, a swift spellbinding sequel to my initial Jimmy the Burglar book.

Getting back to my roots of handwriting gave me the opportunity to see what I was thinking. Words on paper, written by my hand, helped me focus on what I want to do with my writing. I will change the focus of my blog to include more writing, insights, interviews and inspiration. Posts on Deadwood Writers Voices may change. I want to entertain my readers, offer them something worthwhile, while writing topics that excite my passion and enthusiasm. I’m exploring what those topics may be.

As for reading books, I will purchase a better pair of reading glasses.

Four Tips about Writing and Everything Else

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It’s the middle of November; how are your resolutions or yearly goals progressing?

I am incredible. My NaNo word count is a work in progress.

This is the heart of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), the month where every writer and would-be writer suddenly finds the time to write 50,000 words in 30 days. Accomplishing this feat results in nothing more than bragging rights and the messy first draft of the novel you’ve been meaning to write. How do we make time now when we didn’t have one spare moment in the past 11 months?

The holiday season kicks off, too. If you’re a crafter, the stress of making Christmas cards is here because only 37 days remain until Christmas. To you chefs, the Thanksgiving meal is 8 days away. Other celebrations and holidays are a few weeks from now. What happened to your New Year’s Resolutions?

Oh, right. Those.

Why do you let everything and everyone else get in the way of your plans? How can you change that?

Schedule writing time, and I mean put it in your calendar. Would you miss a doctor or dentist appointment? What about your child’s football championship? Are you planning to miss your child’s trumpet solo at the musical recital? Writing time–or anything else–is a meeting with yourself. It is important, so block that time off in your calendar.

Set a timer for every activity you do, then switch to something new when the alarm sounds. I’ve heard that tip before, and I blew it off as corny…until I tried it. In increments of 23 minutes, I can wash a load of laundry, take a short walk or exercise, empty the dishwasher, catch up on one social media outlet, reply to some emails, or write a few dozen words.

Set deadlines. If you have a project due at work, do you blow it off and say, “I’ll get to it when I can.” There are unpleasant consequences for doing that. If you’re moving, you have boxes packed and mail forwarded by your departure date. I bet you don’t ignore such timeframes, so set a goal for yourself and stick to it. No excuses.

Reward yourself for completed tasks. If you have something good waiting for you at the end of a journey, you’re more likely to finish. Rewards don’t have to be big and expensive. Buy yourself something goofy from the dollar store. Get yourself a bouquet of flowers, one piece of Godiva chocolate, your favorite craft beer, or a coloring book. Tuck individual rewards you’ve listed in sealed envelopes, and choose one at each milestone you set. Surprises are extra-fun. Whatever you choose, be kind to yourself. If this is the first time you scheduled time for yourself and you didn’t accomplish everything, still reward your effort.

Small, simple changes: that’s how resolutions become accomplishments. “Losing weight” can only be accomplished by first “eating more veggies” followed by “climbing stairs at work for exercise.” That’s why NaNoWriMo is successful: 50,000 words at 1667 words per day. You can make small changes now, even if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the holiday season. Take time and test yourself by doing something you love. Write. There’s always enough blank space on the calendar to fit that in, even if it’s only five minutes.

Living by example, come back next month to see how this writer has handled life, the universe and everything else.

Help Wanted – First Sentence

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Look, my old friend, my opening sentence . . . things are not working out. The other sentences are having to work overtime to make up for you. You’re not doing your share of the work, and your fit with the rest of the story is not what I expected. I thought you were the one. But I’ve changed and you are . . . still the same bunch of words I wrote last year. I’m sorry, but you have to go. You’re deleted.

Help Wanted: New first sentence needed in short story. Must be a team player, innovative, hard working, and dependable. Preferred applicants will have experience in attention grabbing, mood creation, and innuendo. Relocation possible.

A first sentence creates curiosity. In a short story, the writer wastes no time and no words delivering the beginning of the story. The main character incurs conflict almost immediately and begins in the action or mood of the piece. First sentences can deceive to intrigue the reader. Others warn of impending troubles. Point of view and narrative distance add richness and texture to the story and the voice of the writer. The theme is almost tangible in the first paragraph if not the very first sentence.

When I need a new sentence, I reference my favorite openers. Why does the sentence work? What is the unanswered question? Do words like beautiful, murderous and homeless lure readers? Can a sparse statement say more than a long sentence? How does Wolfe or Faulkner paint broad brushstrokes of the scene’s details? The collection below of short and long sentences demonstrates the magic of a powerful opening line.

“It seemed to Myop as she skipped lightly from her house to pigpen to smokehouse that the days had never been as beautiful as these.” — Alice Walker, “Flowers”

“One day you have a home and the next you don’t, but I’m not going to tell you my particular reasons for being homeless, because it is my secret story, and Indians have to work hard to keep secrets from hungry white folks.” — Sherman Alexie, “What You Pawn, I Will Redeem”

“In walks these three girls in nothing but bathing suits.” — John Updike, “A&P”

“Anders couldn’t get to the bank until just before it closed, so of course the line was endless and he got stuck behind two women whose loud, stupid conversation put him in a murderous temper.” — Tobias Wolfe, “Bullet in the Brain”

“‘Tell me things I won’t mind forgetting,’ she said.” — Amy Hempel, “In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson is Buried”

“Bill and Arlene Miller were a happy couple.” Raymond Carver, “Neighbors”

“As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect.” — Franz Kafka, “The Metamorphosis”

“They discovered the first one in a cupboard above the stove, beside an unopened bottle of malt vinegar.” — Jhumpa Lahiri, “This Blessed House”

“When Miss Emily Grierson died, our whole town went to her funeral: the men through a sort of respectful affection for a fallen monument, the women mostly out of curiosity to see the inside of her house, which no one save an old manservant – a combined gardener and cook – had seen in at least ten years.” — William Faulkner, “A Rose For Emily”

“Do not go outside.” — Ander Monson, “To Reduce Your Likelihood of Murder”

“The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge.” — Edgar Allan Poe, “The Cask of Amontillado”

“On the third day of rain they had killed so many crabs inside the house that Pelayo had to cross his drenched courtyard and throw them into the sea, because the newborn child had a temperature all night and they thought it was due to the stench.” — Gabriel Garcia Marquez, “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings”

After reading successful first sentences, I interview several job applicants for my new first sentence. I try each one in the vacant space at the beginning of my story. The new sentences are so eager to please, changing to fit with the rest of the piece. Then, one sentence works harder than the rest.

Applying for the open position? Your application says you’re flexible with change. Good, my edits might move or change you. You might not even recognize yourself when I’m finished. Here’s where you will work. Sit down. Try it out. Think you can do the job?