alden.nu .|. metawriting

Awaiting the Muse

One of the things I learned very early in my overloaded college years (never less than 20 units a semester or 16 units a quarter) was that there was no time to wait for inspiration. Waiting meant rushing to get the assignment done and turning in sloppy work or, worse, a late turn-in and being docked a grade. Neither were acceptable to me because I believe in doing one's best in all things. And the impact on any assignments after a rushed or late project was always detrimental. So I learned not to wait for inspiration and to get the work done as soon as possible. And I believe it was one of the best lessons college ever gave me.

Too many writers complain they "can't" write, they are uninspired and have to wait for their muse to give them the creativity they need to get the words on the page. A lot of professional writers perpetuate this "myth of the muse" as well, making it seem as if some outside force is responsible for the ideas that became their novels. New writers seem particularly susceptible to this personification of their creative energy. Time and time again I have watched the myth of the muse become a roadblock to writers who won't write until inspired to do so. Most of them will be waiting a long time.

Creativity comes from within. Inspiration comes from the pure enjoyment of using that creativity to develop an idea you like or from doing an activity you love. Are we always inspired when we write? No. But the writers who "make it" are the ones who write anyway. When they have ideas overflowing, they write them down even if they don't have the time to work on them right then and there. That way, when they run out of inspiration and all their other projects are done, they have a list to go to and use. They pick an idea and they work with it, inspired or no. The writers who "make it" make writing a daily habit, muse or no muse. They don't complain, they don't wait, they write.

It's time writers shed the "myth of the muse." It's time to stop saddling new writers with a concept that often does more harm than good. It's time to teach them that waiting has nothing to do with writing, that the work of writing is just that: work. It is a daily habit, carved out of our busy lives, where the pen meets the page, inspired or not. It's the habit that sustains you, that stirs the creativity within you, not some imagined muse. It's the habit that gets us past waiting and makes us writers.

Cutting the Words

Yet one more category of word is being cut from the writer's arsenal: the -ing words, as in winding, bubbling, and so on. Once again we're being told a word is "bad" and shouldn�t be a part of our writing if at all possible. While I understand the need to watch the words we use as writers, this tendency to make entire categories of words no-no's is beyond me. Why would any writer want to reduce the number of tools they have at their disposal? Since when are words themselves bad? Without words, we could not write, and taking words away makes a job that's hard enough even harder.

The overuse of any word or category of words could indeed hurt more than help, but just because some people have overused them doesn't make these words something we all should avoid at all costs. Adverbs serve their purpose and occasionally a sentence needs that passive 'to be' construction. But instead of telling writers to use them in moderation or to make sure they convey what the author wishes to have conveyed, we are being told not to use them at all. Yet there are times when a word doesn't have an alternate choice that conveys not only the motion of the verb but also the description of that motion that would be included in the adverb. If we are to try to get our ideas across, shouldn't we use the adverb if we need it? Far too many would answer no to that question.

Words are the tools of the writer. When you start to take them away, you reduce what you have to work with to make your story shine. You cripple your ability to tell the story as it's meant to be told, as you see it. There are those who would have stories told in so few words that it's up to the reader to create the images that bring the story to life. As a reader who would just like to sit back and read and enjoy the images that the writer's conjure up, I find the trend of minimalizing makes it harder to find things I want to read. I want to enjoy the writer's vision. Yet, over and over again, I see authors who don't describe, don't detail, and use as few words as possible in the belief that it brings readers into the story telling process. Perhaps it does for some, but most the readers I know enjoy rich, vivid stories where they don't have to work quite so hard to visualize the people, the setting, and the events.

'To be' verbs were the first to get hit with this need to cut the words, followed soon after by adverbs. We're taught in school to vary the word 'said' with other words such as 'exclaimed', 'warned', 'shouted', and so on--a habit we find ourselves trying to unlearn as we grow up and start taking our writing seriously. And yet, other writers can get away with replacing said and become quite famous in the process. The literary types may look down their noses, but those writers are the ones making their money at actually writing their stories as they see them.

Lean and mean doesn't always make for good writing. Choosing not to use words that other writers claim should be cut does nothing except give a writer less to work with. Absolutes don�t work in art, and writing is most definitely an art. It's the art of conveying our stories, for entertainment, for learning, for enrichment, in the best way we can. To do that and do it well, we need to have every tool, every word, at our disposal. The best stories come from crafting the writing to fit the story itself, not by obeying some arbitrary rules. Write your stories in the way they need to be told.

Beating the Critique

We've all done it. Some of us have done it more dramatically than others, but all of us, at one time or another, have bitten the hand that critiqued or reviewed us. If we were wise, we did it with a drink in hand while talking to friends who would commiserate with us. Others have been unwise and done it rather publicly, either earning the disdain of other writers as they discovered how nasty we can be, or making sure that no one else in the workshop would ever want to comment on our work again. Sometimes the backlash can be explosive. Other times, it's barely more than a ripple. I've even seen writers in workshops take authors to task for not taking their advice. We've all done it. And most of us will do it again at some time or another.

When I was in college and workshopping my work, almost every professor had one rule in common: the author wasn't allowed to speak. Their reasoning actually makes some sense. Our writing needs to stand on its own. We can't go into every reader's living room and explain what we were attempting to do as they read our work. (And, really, would you want an author sitting on your shoulder explaining every word to you?) You can't defend your work once it's in print. It has to stand on its own. One professor allowed us to ask questions. Not questions that attempted to disguise a defense of what we'd written, but honest questions of "how can I do this better?" And his reasoning also made sense: we needed direction and not all critters know how to direct too well.

These are two principles I've tried to take with me into new workshop experiences. Does that mean I don't rage at a critiquer who just doesn't get it? Not at all. I generally do it with friends who understand, occasionally on my writing journal, but never in the workshop itself. We are entitled to be upset when our "babies" get bad reviews. But, if we want to keep getting input and become better writers, we don't scare off the reviewers with our reactions. I've had to explain every now and again that I've been "raised old school" in this respect and that's why I often don't say anything when a piece of mine gets a critique, but I've rarely, if ever, had to assure people that it's okay to comment on my work.

It's a brave thing to put our work up for scrutiny. It's just as brave a thing to scrutinize someone else's work. Too often we focus on the second half of the equation: the critter. What he should say, how he should say it, even what he should choose to say it on. But as authors we must realize that not everyone is going to use tact, going to be able to step away from a piece that arouses them, or even be able to find something positive to say. Not every critter will "get" our writing, nor will they all agree on the various aspects they comment on. Writing has its guidelines, but the only rule is that it's all a matter of taste.

So, how do you beat the critique? First, don't defend your writing. Being defensive and protective is a natural instinct and hard to combat, but it must be set aside for the critiquing process to work. Defending your work, no matter how appropriate you feel it may be, closes the door to what can be learned from even the most brutal comments and makes other critiquers hesitant to approach your work. Being defensive implies an unwillingness to listen to others. If you can think of nothing else to say, thank the critter for his or her comments. Then go to your circle of friends or your journal and rant all you want. Once you're done, you wait. Wait to see if anything from the crit speaks to you on another level. Wait to see if other critters make points that agree with the comments made in the crit that makes you irate. The key is to be open, to be willing to learn, to wanting to improve your writing so much that you'll take the lumps with all the goodness. Finally, when you're ready to revise, black out all the useless stuff, leaving only the comments you want to use visible.

As writers we're going to get the good, the bad, and the oh so very ugly when people comment on our work. Some will manage to make the hardest critiques sound so incredibly eloquent and reasonable that we'll consider them thoughtfully. Most of us aren't that good. We're blunt. We're hard. Some of us manage a little tact. Others will tell you that have no tact at all. In the end, however, we can't let the delivery keep us from growing in our journey as writers.

Create the Time

My presence here has been sketchy at best these days. What can I say - real life happens, sometimes in the most inconvenient of ways. But not being here doesn't mean I'm not writing. I'm involved in writing related activities every day - revising, critiquing, drafting, or working on background material. When I don't write, I feel it, and not in a good way. A lot of that comes from cultivating a habit of writing daily, but some of it comes from knowing time to write doesn't just happen. Writing isn't something I "find" time to do. Writing time is created.

Every day we make decisions concerning our time. What will I have for breakfast - a microwaved egg and sausage sandwich or a bowl of cereal? Which route will I take to work? What will I do on my break? What will I do, if anything, while watching TV tonight? These decisions don't just affect health and life style; they affect our time. A lot of our "time wasters" are necessary things - refilling prescriptions, time stuck on the freeway getting to where we need to go, and so on. Others, however, are merely choices. How much TV do you watch each week? Spend "just surfing" on the net? Wander around the grocery store trying to remember what you need because you didn't write a list?

I often hear writers say they couldn't find the time to write recently, but they'll "do better" this week or next or when the current spate of busyness is done. The problem is "finding time" in our busy lives - as significant others, employees, students, parents, and whatever other roles we fill - doesn't speak of a commitment to our writing. More importantly, "finding time" isn't any more likely to happen next week than it did the last. If writing isn't important to you, then that's fine. But if writing is important to you, particularly as a career goal, then "finding time" won't cut it. We have to make the time by carving it out of our busy days and committing to it. Ask any full time (or over loading!) student who also has a job how they keep their grades up and they'll tell you - they make the time. If it means staying up until 2 or 3 in the morning to write that B+ or better paper, then they do it. We all make time for the things we consider important.

And so it should be with our writing. Get up early or stay up late. Trim a little here, cut a little there. Use your free moments even if all you have is a 15 minute break. Multitask - write while watching TV, write while riding the bus, write while standing in line or waiting for the prescription to be filled. Use your writing as a means to unwind, unload, and to take a break from the rest of your day. Grab every extra moment and fill it with words. I'm a substitute teacher who does more than just baby sit her classes. I often have to plan, hunt down resources, and teach, and I always leave detailed notes for my teachers. Sometimes I even have to take work home with me. But I always take a chapter or a story to work with me and use whatever free moments I have to write, revise, or critique. If I don't find time during my day, then I write to unwind when I get home. I'm almost always revising or critiquing while watching TV - and some days that's the only time I can carve out of my day to do so.

Every writer can create time for writing. It starts with a commitment - deciding you will spend time writing every day. Meeting that commitment may be as simple as taking one of your current works in progress to work with you. Some of us, however, have more complicated lives and may need to trim a little here, carve a little there, or learn a whole new level of multitasking. Still, if writing is important to us, and we can "find" the time to play on the PS2 or watch TV, then we can create time to write. Commit, create, do. If we do that, we'll waste less time looking for what's hard to find, and spend more time doing what we want to be doing: writing.

Recovery

There are times in a writer's life when writing just isn't possible. We all have real life to contend with, and it is very good at throwing the nasty and unexpected at us--situations that eat up time and emotional resources and need our undivided attention. It happens to all of us, full time and part time writers alike. Whether you're out subbing in a classroom for 3 months, moving, or dealing with a difficult family situation, do not feel guilty about the time needed to get through your real life distraction. Give yourself permission to do what you need to do.

However, there comes a time to recover your writing. Sometimes we need space after difficult circumstances before we pick up a pen again, but there's a fine line between breathing room and procrastination. Once you cross that line, it becomes harder to return to the writing life, and it keeps getting harder each day that goes by. And often that line is closer than you think, especially if the circumstances that dragged you from it took a long time to sort through. The writing habit becomes replaced with the TV habit or some other activity, and it becomes a battle to reestablish yourself as a writer. If you were in the midst of a number of projects, particularly book projects, you may even feel lost and have difficulty finding a starting point.

Begin small. Establishing your writing habit the first time probably required baby steps. Recovering that habit will require the same small steps and patience. If you're in a crit group or workshop, begin by critiquing someone else's work. Get in touch with that writer's instinct again, Renew your love for the words and story telling. Then choose your first piece to revise. Choose carefully. Make it something you love and something short. Picking a piece close to the polishing stage is probably a good idea too. Nothing can be more discouraging that seeing your worst work--and we all have to admit that those early drafts can be appalling.

When you're ready to pick up a larger project, particularly a book, read what you revised before. This will help you get back into your story and rediscover the story's voice. Scan through the pages waiting for revision to refresh yourself on the plot and renew your acquaintance with the characters. Re-immerse yourself in your work. Not doing so can leave you feeling lost or make more work for you later as you try to blend two very different voices for the same project.

If you find yourself blocked or struggling, back up a step. Sometimes we need to stay at an easier stage longer to get comfortable again. Work on something every day. Shuffle through your pieces until you find something you can work on. Whatever you do, don't quit without making progress on at least one piece. Even if it's "just" a short poem, it builds confidence and helps recover your writing. Soon enough you will be working on new words, revealing new stories.

Any recovery takes time. It requires exercise and rehabilitation. Just as if was a slow process to develop a writing habit in the first place, it can be a slow process to recover one. We may even find ourselves revisiting old insecurities and issues we thought we settled the first time around. The key to recovery, just as it was when training ourselves to write daily, is to not give up.

Between the Cracks

Most authors don't choose a career in writing because of the money. For most of us, writing is just not going to be something we can rely on the pay the rent every month. So, the majority of us have to do the job thing, especially if we have more than ourselves to think about (the starving artist gig doesn't go very far when you have kids). Unfortunately, the standard, every day, paycheck a week (or two) job cuts into writing not just in time, but also in energy and motivation, and it can be a real challenge to finish even the shortest of stories, much less a novel. At the end of the day, there's not much left over for writing, even if there's time.

One solution I've found is to write in the cracks. Every job has cracks--those spaces of time between tasks, or breaks in the day when you can sit back and not concentrate on work, or moments when there's nothing demanding your attention. These moments are the perfect opportunities to make space for your writing. Oh, they don't do well for the actual writing portion of the process, but they do provide time for some of the other tasks of a writer: world building (such as a character profile), outlining, revising, market hunting, even critiquing if you're a part of a workshop.

I always take writing to work with me: a chapter or two of the current novel in revision, a short in need of attention (as long as it doesn't need a major overhaul), the manuscript I'm reading for a friend, a piece or two to critique, and my writers notebook (which goes with me everywhere anyway). Taking such a selection allows me to pick and choose not only what I'm in the mood for, but what I have the time for. On good days, the kids work and I revise or crit, and I get quite a bit done. On bad days, the only time I can do anything is during my planning time. I will admit it was much tougher finding the time to do anything during my long term positions since there's almost always something that needs to be done (planning, grading, meetings), but I usually found some small way to keep in touch with the writer in me, it just took longer to get anything done (which was certainly better than not doing at all).

Days off will always allow the time to work on those things that require more concentration or a higher word count. But don't limit yourself to a days off kind of writer. Those bits of time at work may not allow for much, but they do allow for something, however small. They are tiny moments of forward progress. Writing at work can be the highlight of your day and even help make a job more tolerable. And, at the end of a hectic day, a day when you come home and all you want to do is fall asleep in front of the TV, writing between the cracks also lets you say, "I wrote today." For some of us, that's a big accomplishment all in itself.

The Notebook

Like any other career, writing has tools of the trade that help us write better. Some of these tools are skills and knowledge, but some of these tools are physical. For example, most writers can tell you what books and magazines make up their bookshelf of resources. Most of these tools are obvious: pen, paper, typewriter or computer, and so on. But there are also tools that may not be so obvious to a new writer that can be just as important as the paper on which we write. One of these is a Writers Notebook.

Every writer who has a notebook uses it differently. From what kind of notebook we use to what's put in it, the notebook is very customized--tailored to a particular writer's personality, writing style, and needs. Some need a binder complete with pockets to be able to store clippings and pictures. Others are fine with a spiral notebook divided up into sections for their ideas, submission tracking, and so on. Some of us have more than one: a small one we can carry around for jotting down ideas as they come to us and a larger one that carries everything else. For the writer who uses it as a storehouse, the Writers Notebook is invaluable. Writer's block becomes less of a problem if you have a place to go for ideas and to explore news, pictures, poetry and phrases that inspire you, and so on. Even just using the notebook as a journal can provide a wealth of ideas for new writing.

New writers who have never heard of the value of a Writers Notebook, however, may have no idea what they want to use for the notebook itself, much less what they should put in it. And I've met too many new writers who have never even heard of the concept or think it will be too difficult to create or keep up. Some are so new, they have no idea what their writing needs and style are yet, much less the kinds of supports they will need. But this is part of the beauty of a binder type book: a writer can change what goes into it as his or her writing changes and his or her needs become apparent. My book, for example, is a day planner, but a binder or other type of notebook that allows you to customize it can be used as well.

As for what to keep in it, the ideas are almost endless. Most writers keep a repository of ideas, from phrases that can prompt a short story to full paragraphs and notes for possible novels. Some also keep newspaper clippings, photographs and other images, scraps of dialogue they overhear, postcards, letters, bits printed off the Internet, and so on. But a writers notebook can be used for so much more than an idea space. Other items that can be kept in it include a record of your submissions, phrases and lines you liked from other novels, ideas for character names, world building notes, research notes, project tracking, a daily writing journal, sensory notes and descriptions, freewrites, and so on. I even created a weekly planner calendar with writing related notes, from goals to accomplishments, to replace the standard planner calendar.

Once they've created a Writers Notebook, most writers find that it isn't hard to keep it up. This is where you record your accomplishments, your submissions, your goals. It becomes as much a part of your writing life as the writing itself. It goes with you everywhere so you can add your ideas as soon as they come to you. As you use it more, you begin to see what you need to add and what you don't need to keep. You adjust, making it more a part of you, more useful to you and your writing, more focused. And, eventually, you wonder how you managed without it.

Nothing Wasted

Some time back when I was struggling with the whole idea of fan fiction and its legalities, a writer I knew commented that she didn't write fan fiction because she didn't do "wasted writing." Everything she wrote had one goal: paid publication. While a bit taken back at the concept of wasted writing -- any writing that is not or cannot be for publication, I told her then, and firmly believe now, that no writing is ever wasted. Not all writing should be done purely with the goal of being published. Writing is one of the few careers that can be done just for the joy of it, without worrying about what the "boss" (editor or agent) will say. We need these moments to refresh ourselves and to remember our love for it, or it becomes just another job.

But writing without publication in mind does more than renew our creativity. Freewriting allows us to explore our ideas and find new ones. Since freewriting is personal and not intended for any eyes but our own, we are free to release our deepest thoughts and feelings on the page, no matter how silly or how horrific. While something in our freewrites might eventually lead to a publishable short story, publication is not the goal. The goal is to release ourselves, to let the word flow however they may, without censure or pressure. Freewriting is for release and discovery. Like freewriting, other forms of non-publication writing have their purposes: letters communicate; lists and notes jar our memories; journals records our success, our failures, our lives, and allow us to explore our feelings. None of these are wasted. They have purpose; they have their own power.

Beyond expression, release, and creativity, writing also teaches. Not only so we discover ourselves, but we learn about our craft. I have stories I would never dream of attempting to publish that have taught me about form, genre, style, and voice, and that I've used in classes to teach others about writing. My first 3 failed attempts at my first novel taught me about how I write and how I need to write, and how to take criticism. Critiquing teaches me how to read, teaches me different ways of writing, gives me an appreciation for different voices, shows me new ways of seeing and doing, and helps me to reinforce what I already know. Even fan fiction, which I do not write, has its lessons. Writing in someone else's world, using someone else's characters, isn't easy. From it a writer can learn about all those basics of writing: plot, character, setting, and so on. Those who write fan fiction are learning, in a roundabout way, the skills they need to be published (if they wish) from authors who already are published.

Writing cannot be wasted, no matter its form. Whatever its purpose, from the personal to the professional, writing always gives back to us. Words have power. While they may not always reach out to others, they always reach into ourselves.

Reading for Writing

I'd be the first to admit that a good writer's library is invaluable. Like most writers who have been at this craft for more than 6 months, I've sunk quite a bit of money into writing books, at least $350 right after I graduated with my degree alone. And that was 4 years ago, you can imagine the writing library has grown since then. We are told to read to be better writers; read fiction to see how other authors write, read on writing to get insight to the writing process, read other nonfiction to keep in touch with our world. However, books on writing have their own special dangers, particularly for new writers.

It is far too easy to see these books as the absolute authorities on how we should write. Being in print lends the book a sense of absolute truth, and books from well known, well published authors are given even more power by the mere fact that their authors have used the advice given again and again quite successfully. We take the advice to heart, start to follow it as unerringly as we are capable of, and then find ourselves confronted with one of two problems (or both): another authors, equally well known and well published, puts out a book that contradicts the advice we're following; or we find ourselves unable to work in the way the author demands. For years, my first novel never made it to a completed rough draft because I kept hearing that the way "real" authors write is to begin with the first word and end with the last word. But I can't write a novel straight through like that. I finally found my way, but I wonder if it would have been found sooner if I had realized earlier that "Real" authors write in the way they need to write, not to some specific technique or style.

Writing is very personal. Every writer will approach it differently, from how they write to what they write. We're told to limit adverbs, but J. K. Rowling does just fine with hers. We're told less is more when it comes to description, but that hasn't kept Mercedes Lackey from publishing new work. Writing books are helpful, but they are not the absolute authorities on writing. As with any other advice we receive, we need to read widely and take what makes sense to us and make it our own. Reading on how to write is enriching to us as writers, we learn and grow from such reading, but none of it is absolute. Writing is an art, and art has very few absolutes. Every artist must find his or her own path, his or her own voice.

Writing is also very much tied to culture and time. What is seen as excellent writing in England in the 1500's certainly isn't the kind of writing that will sell today. And what readers enjoy today, they will not enjoy in a few years. Just as the popularity of certain genres come and go, so do writing styles and rules. And books about writing are just as tied to the culture and time they are written in as the short stories and novels that are published. They are static, a picture of what works at that particular time.

Some writers become so caught up in the learning, in getting all the information they can on how to write, that they forget the rest of the equation. Reading about writing is a good thing, but we only become better writers when we actually write. It's easy to get caught up in the reading, to realize there is so much more we need to learn, and to not pick up a pen. But reading about writing and not putting pen to paper is the same as reading about painting and not applying paint and brush to canvass: the reading isn't going to teach you the control you need to make the picture you want. You must practice. It's the only way to improve your own work.

Read to learn about writing, but balance it with the actual writing practice you need. There's always something new out there for us to learn, something more that can help us improve our writing. It never ends. To try to fill up on what you need to know before you get started will only keep you from doing the one thing you're trying to learn to do: write.

A Dividing Line

Every career has its tough stuff -- tasks and requirements that are unpleasant or difficult. Writing has more than its fair share of these challenges: working alone, setting your own schedule and sticking to it, submitting despite the rejections and lack of encouragement, even the rewriting and revising can get tedious. But doing these things are part of a particular line that divides the serious writer from the hobbyist: perseverance. The road to any success as a writer is a long, slow battle uphill, and very few become stars. And for most of us, every sale is a testament to our determination. A friend once told me that every story has a home, and he's right. The hard part is finding it.

Perseverance goes beyond the market hunt. We can't give up on our stories at any phase of development. They may require more revisions than we thought we'd ever need to do, or a complete rethinking or rewrite. We may have to set them aside, sometimes for years, but we can't give up on them. Perseverance means working through the challenges, whether those challenges are finding a new market after a stinging rejection or picking up a novel we abandoned after 4 attempts to write through to an ending. It means doing what we need to do despite how we're feeling, despite lack of support, despite the obstacles, set backs, and discouragement.

It doesn't come easy, this determination. Like almost everything else about writing, it's something that happens one step at a time. A story gets returned, the comments aren't so great, and you decide to hunt up a new market anyway. Choosing to write a little more on the next chapter after a long day at the "real" job and frustration with progress on that novel. Only the serious writer does these things and all that other "tough stuff" that makes writing what it is. They don't give up on their stories, their dreams, or themselves.

The Big Breath

There are just times when a writer has to step back, whether from writing itself or from a single project. For career writers, there will be many of these moments over the years. And most of those career writers will feel guilty for doing so. Writing is a business. Stepping back means losing valuable work time and money. As noted in my previous article, Recharging Your Spirit, all writers need time off. They need ways to refresh themselves. This can only be good for the writing. There is no reason to feel guilty about taking time for oneself, no matter the profession.

But there is another kind of stepping back that is often harder to justify. Setting aside a project, any project, is a difficult decision in a business where finished projects determine your value as a writer, particularly if a lot of time and effort has already been put into it. All that work is seen as wasted and that pressures the writer to continue. Other writers can add to this pressure without realizing it -- they like the project and want to see it done. They may indicate that the author's misgivings are related to a lack of confidence and advise the author to just push through those feelings by continuing to work on it. Even articles like the last meta, A Dividing Line, can pressure a writer into continuing where she or he should not.

Sometimes a writer just needs to take a big breath and set aside a project. This is particularly true if the project is ambitious with a lot of advanced techniques involved and the writer is new to the career of writing. No one walks the day after they are born, writers can't fly the day after they first pick up a pen. We all want our stories to come out "just right," but for that to happen the writer has to be ready. It's about limits, and most people don't know where their limits are until they've pushed past the boundary. Once that's happened, it's more damaging to the writer and the work to keep going than to set it side for a time.

How big of a breath will a writer need to take? That depends on the writer and the project. Regardless of the time, however, an author shouldn't feel guilty about putting something aside until they are better prepared to work with it, even if they have to set it aside several times before they finally finish it. Picking it back up and trying again often takes more perseverance than just moving on to another project. Everything in between those efforts is nothing more than breathing.

How You Should Write

We've all heard it: "To be a real writer, you have to write this way!" Whether it's outlining, writing from beginning to end, or writing scenes and shuffling them until you find the right sequence, a lot of writers seem to think their way of writing is the only way of writing. It was this attitude that held me back for years with my first novel. When I first started writing, I thought all writers started at word one and ended at word the last. I tried it and stalled, so set the book aside for a very long time. When I picked it up, a much older, but not so much wiser me, listened to the voices that said that real writers write their novels in just that way. I set book 1 aside again and tried it on book 2. Book 2 stalled. I set it aside and tried it on book 3, and book 3 stalled as well. I finally realized that, regardless of what real writers do, I don�t write that way. I had to find my way. So I picked book 1 back up and tried again, this time approaching it as a learning novel. And, boy, did I learn.

I learned that real writers write in the way that most encourages them to finish the work. I learned that we all have to figure out what works for us as individuals. No one else can tell us this, we have to find it on our own. Maybe this is why so many first novels end up in the bottom desk drawer or under the bed: these are the novels that teach us how we need to write. The process of floundering around and trying to figure out what works for you is bound to affect the quality of the writing, if not the story itself. But it's a process that must be experienced. It involves not only finding the way that works for you, but also learning to hold to it. It's working through this process that makes you a real writer. It's working through this process that gives you the courage to do what you need to do as a writer regardless of what others, particularly experienced writers, say.

This doesn�t mean you don�t explore other options. We all grow, as people, as workers in our jobs, as a part of our families, and as writers. We learn of new ways of doing things we never even thought of before. If we shut these ways out because we've "always done it this way," we risk becoming stagnate, and no writer should be stagnate. Writers are explorers. We explore the world through words. By experimenting with new ways of writing, we discover new tools that aid us as writers. We learn. We grow. We revitalize ourselves and our writing.

How should you write? You should write in the way that fits you. Experiment until you find the way that gets you to a completed story or novel. Your learn whether or not your style of writing is influenced by length or genre or any of a number of other factors that come into play when writing. For example, I write my shorts from beginning to end, from first word to the last, without outlines or notes of any kind. This is known as an organic linear style. This is the way of writing that I thought, and was later told, made a person a real writer. But I can't write novels that way. To complete a novel, I write mostly in a linear structured style -- using outlines and notes to help me get to the end, with a lot of organic writing (world building and adjusting the plot as I write) thrown in. Occasionally, I even have to write novels in a non-linear fashion just so I keep moving forward on the novel without letting a scene hang me up. And I'm learning I have to be careful with how much world building I do and when I do it. Too soon or too much and I burn out, I don�t want to do it even though it's necessary to the continuity of my novel. I have to space the world building out to make it work for me and the story. That means there are a lot of times when I'm writing without any clue whether it will fit into the world I have made for it. But this is okay. That's part of what revision is for.

When it comes to your writing, you do what you have to do to get it done, just like anything else in life. You find your way, and you never let anyone convince you that you're wrong. As long as you finish the work, it's right for you. It's the way you should write.

Taking Aim

Perhaps one of the most difficult aspects of being a writer is how much it relies on our ability to manage time and make sure we sit down and do the work that needs to be done. There's no time card to punch, no boss evaluating our work, no paycheck handed to us at the end of the week. It is easy to let the days slide and get little, if anything, done, especially in this day of internet distractions. There's a discipline in being a writer that must be learned. One of the best ways to learn this discipline is through setting goals. Goals not only help a writer become more disciplined in his or her writing habits, but are also a way to gage our progress. They are especially useful to new writers who are not only trying to learn the discipline of writing, but often also need to grow their writing muscles. New writers are learning to sit down each day and write, they are learning to work their writing in around the rest of their lives, and they are learning to expand how much they get done in a day. Goals help provide a target to aim for and show us when we're ready to push ourselves to do a little more.

Many writers say that goals are depressing -- they don�t meet their goals and end up with negative feelings about themselves and writing in general. I think some of this comes from a misunderstanding of how to use goals and how to set them. Goals should not be a straightjacket. They are guidance. They create a path for us to follow, and reaching the end of that path is not always required. They need to be based on our current abilities and time. If you know you can write 1000 words a day, then a good goal would 1250 words a day. This kind of goal pushes you to do more as a writer, but isn't so far out of your comfort zone that it becomes impossible to reach. They should cover the basic aspects of writing: new words, revisions, submissions. If you're a part of a critique workshop, you may also want to include critiques on the list. They also need to be goals for things you can control. How much of your work gets accepted is out of your hands since you can't control what an editor will like, so attempting to make a goal for acceptance rate is setting yourself up for failure. The first key is balance: a balance in time, a balance in ability, and a balance in what you try to achieve.

How often to set goals will depend on the writer. I set a yearly word count goal, weekly goals that cover all my writing and activities, and create a to do list each day based on those weekly goals. Others set yearly and monthly goals. Still others set their goals by the project and, using what they know to be their usual pace, create target dates for completion. Each writer must experiment with goal setting to discover what works. Which leads to the second key: use these goals as a way to guide your progress. You must allow them to be flexible enough to account for changes and disruptions, but firm enough that you don't ignore them. Use them to determine what you will do each day, but don't beat yourself over the head if you miss the mark. Perhaps they were set too high. Maybe life got in the way. Maybe you need to adjust how you set your goals. Whatever happened, don't kick yourself for not making your goals, but applaud yourself. You may not have reached the target you wanted, but you reached for something, and that is more likely to lead to success than reaching for nothing.

Taking Out Hollywood

We're starting to see the TV and movie generation hit the writers and readers of today. They've been raised on big explosions, blood and gore, and near non-stop action. The idea of tiny actions building up to a big consequence is a foreign idea to them because they rarely, if ever have seen it on the big screen. For them, horror and suspense without death and mayhem is neither horrific nor suspenseful. A story no longer has a rhythm in its tension, but one extraordinary event after another at breakneck speed. The impact on writing is a skewing of perceptions on what goes into the conflict of a story and what makes a character an active participant in the plot, and, perhaps, what it means for a sequence of events to actually BE a story.

This does not mean that movies and TV shows are bad, or that the techniques used to make them good for their target audiences are bad. I may be particular about my movies, but I do enjoy them. However, many of the techniques used in movies and TV are meant for visual story telling alone. They don't work well when used in the written word. Unfortunately, much of today's population is raised on TV and movies, and less are reading. This has been a gradual but definite change over the years, and it is influencing the way future writers perceive what a story is.

Like Ursela LeGuin, I believe a story is "a narrative of events (external or psychological) which moves through time or implies the passage of time, and which involves change." That change can be an actual change in the character or his situation, or a character's attempt at change. Characters must grapple with some kind of conflict, but the way they do so doesn't need to huge or dramatic -- they just need to try to get what they want. Sometimes this requires little actions -- pretending to drink from the poisoned cup instead of throwing the cup to the floor. Both are ways of avoiding the poison, one is just a less dramatic way of doing so. Less dramatic action does not equal passive. Passiveness is allowing the events to happen and making no effort to avoid them.

Action is a window into the character's soul, the circumstances surrounding the conflict, and the plot itself. The struggle to overcome the obstacles in our lives don't usually require dramatic overtures or flashy explosions. If TV and movies are to be believed, we see cars blow up every day. Most of us, however, probably have yet to see just one go up in a fireball. I know I haven't and I'm in my 40s. Even the most extra-ordinary of circumstances often only need the smallest of actions to be dealt with. Fiction is supposed to be grounded in this reality, even when based in the unreal. Making your fiction larger than life doesn�t mean taking life out of it entirely. Fiction, in all its forms -- even the least literary genre, is supposed to be a reflection of life, not an overdose of Hollywood flash. We as writers must keep the distinction in mind and avoid confusing good fiction with a Hollywood movie. Flashy special effects are for the big screen, not the printed page.

Soaking Up The Influence

A fellow writer recently asked me about one of my villains. She wanted to know how I manage to write the character so well when she's a real twisted bitch. She was curious as to where the character came from--personal experience, fantasy, or a twisted imagination. While all of these have a part in the character to some degree, the one thing that really comes into play when creating characters isn�t on the list: the influence of others.

Some time back, I played role-playing games. I was fortunate enough (or unfortunate enough, depending on your point of view) to have some pretty twisted GM's who made some pretty nasty bad guys. Their NPC's were pretty twisted too, come to think of it. Nothing was ever straight forward with these characters. There was always something more going on beneath the surface--some hidden motivation, some manipulation you didn�t see coming, some plot being worked out behind the scenes. I also can�t tell you how many times I fell into their traps, despite being pretty savvy. These GM's showed me how to watch player behavior and character behavior and use it to my advantage. And when I became a GM myself, they showed me how to build twisted, devious characters of my own. Much later, when I started working on my writing more seriously, I took the lessons learned into my story characters as well.

Now some would say that a gaming influence is a bad influence on writing, and I've definitely had to learn how to edit my experiences as a player and GM. For example, I may love being a description queen, but even I will concede that a GM describing a room to his or her players needs to use far more description than a writer needs in a novel. I've had to learn to tone it down, but I would never say the gaming influence on my description was a bad one. If anything, I learned more about paying attention to details.

Writers should never turn away from an experience because it's a "bad" influence. If an experience is harmful and causes pain, some distance may be needed before that experience can be used in writing, if it ever can be, but writers should otherwise endeavor to soak up their influences. Everything we experience, from the situations in our lives to the personalities we meet, is fodder for the imagination. Passing something by because it's not acceptable, or it's not "appropriate" for writing, or whatever other reason given for it being bad, only reduces the material you have as a writer to work with. How can you create wonderfully deep, twisted characters if you haven't seen other wonderfully deep twisted characters either real or imagined? We are the sum of our experiences. When we deny ourselves the use of those experiences in our writing, we deny a part of ourselves, and our writing suffers for it.

Soaking up the influences in your life helps you to add color and depth to your writing that would otherwise not be there. It allows you to create characters who are so different from yourself that readers wonder how you write them so well.