Tag: the writing life

Writer’s Round Table: Pros Give Advice on Writer’s Block

personby Deborah J. Ross
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A few years ago, a friend wrote poignantly about what it’s like to be blocked. I asked some pro writer friends for words of encouragement. This is from a well-known, NYTimes-best-selling author:

WRITER’S BLOCK

I am sitting here looking at a fic I have not touched since 2007.  I have 135K done, including the last scene…or, about 2/3 of the total fic.  I am ALSO sitting here looking at a novel that was due three years ago, for which I have something similar to an outline and the first 50K written (only 100K to go, right?)

I’ve been writing fanfic and profic since the 80s, and dealing with blocked, derailed, and MIA stories for most of that time.  Here are some of the strategies that have worked for me.  (NOTE: some of these ideas are mutually-exclusive, because every writer writes differently.)

  1. WELCOME TO THE GULAG: Block out a specific time and place where you do the same thing every day: sit in front of the screen and make words come.Doesn’t matter what you write, or even if you don’t write.  Just be there doing nothing else (no shopping, no reading AO3, no social media) for that one or two hours (no more) each and every day (same Bat-time, same Bat-channel).  Eventually your brain gives up and you get to write what you want to write.

1A. If absolutely nothing else will come to your fingers, choose a favorite book (or longfic) and retype it.

  1. FACE THE MUSIC: Between day job and commute (long) I was really bushed when Writing Time arrived in the evening.I just didn’t have the energy—but I did have a deadline.  Solution?  ROCK’N’ROLL BAY-BEE!!!  I wrote two novels to “Bad To The Bone”.  Just that one track.  On infinite repeat.  Loud.  So pick a piece of music, declare it your writing music, and hit “Repeat” on iTunes.

2A: Earphones are a great help.  Use the sport kind that leave your ears free.

  1. WELCOME TO THE MACHINE: When I would dry up working on a piece—and we are talking YEARS in some cases—it was often because I was trying to take it in the wrong direction.I learned to recognize that feeling when it came and take a step back.  (You can either wait for inspiration to come—I know! I know!—or try to negotiate with your subconscious.  Or, yanno, try to REASON your way through to the answer.)

3A. Sometimes switching to another project will help.

  1. PRESENT COMPANY: 95% of all fic is written in the present tense, for reasons that utterly escape me (even though I do it too).Try taking your blocked piece and changing it to past tense.  Or first person.  Anything to get The Muse—AKA your subconscious—awake and grumbling.  (When you have annoyed it enough it usually gets back to work.  Nobody knows how much annoying is the exact right amount, though.)
  1. THE WALLPAPER IS ALSO A CHARACTER: Back in the beginning, when typewriters ruled the earth. I made a solemn vow not to stop for the night before I had two pages (500 words).And when nothing else would come, I described the background.  Or the weather.  Or the furniture.  (Amazingly, all those descriptions didn’t look out of place when the book was done.)

5A: The corollary to this is THE MAGIC TCHOTCHKE: Every story needs one important and well-described item.  It might be a magic sword, a 1967 Chevy Impala hardtop, a big stone ring built by Ancient astronauts.  Find out which it is in your story and show it some love.  And if your story doesn’t have a magic tchotchke yet, consider adding it.

  1. INERTIA CREEPS (MOVING UP SLOWLY): If you know what comes next, tell yourself.Use any words you need to for writing down the information.  Sometime this is called a scene-by-scene breakdown.  It is very familiar to the “treatment” for a film (most good books on screenwriting will show examples of treatment style).  Once you have a version of what happens, you can poke at it to see if it’s the “real for true” version.  Then you are one step closer to finishing the story.
  1. EURIPEDES, YOUR PANTS ARE READY: There are essentially two kinds of writer: the Pantser, and the Outliner (I’m both.Sue me.)  The Pantser begins a work with a vague idea of where it might be going and an enthusiasm for the journey, and not much more.  The Outliner wants a roadmap, a GPS, and the location of every Rest Stop along the road before beginning.  The takeaway here is that BOTH METHODS WORK WONDERFULLY WELL.  Except if you’re a Pantser who’s trying to follow a detailed outline.  Or an Outliner who’s decided to just go with the whole Inspiration thing.  Figure out which kind you are, and nurture that writing-self.
  1. LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS (THE “I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP” REMIX): Writing takes emotional energy.So does talking about your WIP.  If you deny yourself the outlet of talking about your story while it’s in progress, you might just find that (since you are looking forward to all those lovely comments) this gives you enough oomph to unlock your Muse.

And don’t forget The Broccoli Test, The Bechdel Test, interviewing your characters, and the story’s Blooper Reel.  (I’m hoping somebody else will cover these in depth?)

Good Luck!

— Dejah Vue, Writer of Two Worlds

Writerly Support Goes Both Ways

personby Deborah J. Ross
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Some years ago, I struck up a conversation with a young writer at a convention. (I love getting to know other writers, so this is not unusual for me.) One thing led to another, led to lunch, led to getting together on a regular basis, and led to frequently chatting online. I cheered her on as she had her first professional sale and then another, and then a cover story in a prestigious magazine. One of the gifts of such a relationship is not the support I receive from it, but the honor and joy of watching someone else come into her own as an artist, to celebrate her achievements. It’s the opposite of Schadenfreude — it’s taking immense pleasure and pride in the success of someone you have come to care about.

I find such friendships invaluable, and even more so when they shift from “pro/newbie” to one of true peers. Although we may not be in the same place in terms of professional publication, we each bring a wealth of life experiences to the conversation. Often, critical skills develop faster than writing craft, so even a novice writer can provide invaluable feedback. Trust arises from recognition of each other’s strengths.

This happened recently, when I was wrestling with the opening of a new novel. I typed “Chapter 1” and then stared at the blank screen. Everything I could come up with for a beginning sentence was — to put it mildly, just awful. I wouldn’t want to read a book that began that way. But because my friend and I were DMing and she often shares thoughts about her creative process and struggles with various aspects of storytelling in a very different style than mine, I felt safe with her. She agreed that my idea wasn’t very entrancing (she was very nice about it, for she understands that beginnings are vulnerable times and that this is indeed a process, not the final copy on the editor’s desk). Her support lightened the burden of “I’m totally useless and now everyone is going to find out; I’ll never write another decent sentence in my life and I have no idea how to begin a novel!” which we both knew to be not true, but the sort of self-doubt that regularly assails writers of all skill levels.
Eventually, I calmed down enough to remember one of my tried and true techniques for coming up with titles. I write down every one I can think of, quite quickly so that I get through all the really stupid ones first. I give myself permission to be ridiculous — and silly — and quirky — and by this time, I am usually generating stuff that has some potential. I did the same thing with opening lines, and before long I realized I’d become ensnared by one of my perennial challenges: wrong point of entry. By backing up (in this case) or leaping forward, I can find the place that clicks.
I went to bed, having written a page or so, and woke up with: “Yes, and this other thing happens and then she gets thrown into jail (on page 2 or 3) and by the time she gets bailed out, her father has been brainwashed…” Okay, this has possibilities!
Thanks, dear friend, for cheering me on through the discouraging part!

Guest Blog: B.A. Williamson on Being a Bipolar Writer

personby Deborah J. Ross
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On Being a Bipolar Writer

By B.A. Williamson

It’s pretty hard to write this right now. Each sentence is taking a conscious effort. Why? Well, I’m depressed. Unsurprisingly, given the current circumstances. Cancelling all my book launch events and conference panels didn’t help.

There’s not always a reason. Occasionally this just happens. But I can say this depression is “just a phase” without any hint of condescension, because for me, it’s true. I’m bipolar.

Sometimes I just want to lay on the couch and escape. Hours of video games are good for this, though not exactly healthy. I suffer from the emptiness and lethargy that is familiar to millions of sufferers of depression.

What’s less familiar is the other side of the coin—my manic episodes. I have unlimited energy and focus, and can dive into projects for hours on end, and the words just flow. Everything I write is the best thing anyone has ever written. (Impaired judgment is another symptom.)

Manic energy can be a superpower, if harnessed correctly. I can hit any deadline, tackle any obstacle, and breeze through it with the confidence of a narcissistic tiger owner. But as I said, it’s a double-edged sword. The crushing writer’s despair is even worse, and can wipe out all the progress I’ve made.

Writing helps. Getting things out on the page helps. During a depressive episode, it takes a monumental effort to sit down and get moving. But even as I type this, it has become easier. I do feel better. I’m not agonizing over every punctuation mark, and hey, I’ve produced about 250 words so far! Halfway there.

Routines help, too. And outlines. The less you have to think, the lower the energy it takes to get started. I don’t have to think, just check the outline, do what it says, and follow the routine. They also keep me moving at those times when I’m balanced, and don’t have that supply of manic energy to rely on.

Whenever I want to give up before I’ve even started, I tell myself to write three sentences. That’s the rule—three sentences, then you can quit. Anyone can write three sentences. My seven-year-old can write three sentences. And to this day, I’ve never stopped at three sentences. I may only get a few paragraphs, but that’s still overshooting my goal by quite a bit.

So when my precious (fictional) girl Gwendolyn Gray started showing the same symptoms, I was hardly surprised. In fact, it fit my story very well, and I had a compelling and unique character arc. I work with middle schoolers, and they suffer from depression and anxiety at alarming rates. Anyone shocked? Think back to middle school. It’s a terrifying, stressful, horrific experience for many of us. Now we have the awareness and language to properly describe the toll it takes on our kids. But conversations about mental health are all-too-often relegated to the land of Young Adult, while our adolescents are talked down to or treated as if their problems couldn’t possibly be all that bad.

I felt it was really important to show a story where a character grows up, and kids could see a reflection of their own struggles. As Gwendolyn struggles with larger-than-life monsters, readers can see a reflection of their own struggles that can feel so much bigger than themselves. And as her external struggles are a metaphorical mirror for their own, her internal struggles create a much more literal parallel. Her internal reactions give them something to relate to, and see themselves taken seriously. Continue reading “Guest Blog: B.A. Williamson on Being a Bipolar Writer”…

Zen Yoga Writing practice?

personby Deborah J. Ross
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A confession: I like to read at bedtime. In this company, that’s nothing unusual. All the sleep hygiene experts say not to, that beds should be used for sleeping and only one other activity. What do they know? I find something deeply comforting about curling up with a good–but not too exciting–book. Perhaps it evokes memories of my mother reading aloud to me, or it’s just “me time.”

Often I include in my nightly reading a page or two of something that stretches my mind. I don’t mean that in the intellectual sense, for I definitely want to be quieting my thoughts, not forcing myself to think critically. I try to choose books that get inside my brains and stretch them gently in unexpected directions, like mental yoga before settling into my comfort reading.

An example of this kind of reading is Natalie Goldberg’s LONG QUIET HIGHWAY. Goldberg is a writing teacher, essayist and novelist who is also a long-time student of Zen Buddhism. I was introduced to her work years ago with her WRITING DOWN THE BONES, and had always thought of her as a teacher in the style of Julia Cameron: “Morning pages,” keep the pen moving, let your thoughts flow, that sort of advice. LONG QUIET HIGHWAY is autobiographical rather than instructive. I was deeply moved by how she put together mundane, specific details in ways that brought tears to my eyes. More than that, she has gotten me thinking — or rather, feeling/sensing — more deeply about the role of writing in my own life. Yes, it’s a pleasure and an obsession; yes, it’s my occupation, how I earn my living.

  • Mountain Pose: Could it also be the lens through which I view the world? Sure, no problem; every new experience is grist for the mill. That’s the easy answer, just as the plot skeleton is the easy description of a story. As a writer, I know that storyness is much deeper than plot. Can I use that same insight to listen more deeply, look beyond appearances, appreciate the interwoven complexity of my community and environment?
  • Dancing Shiva Pose: How about writing as a spiritual practice? Um, isn’t that a bit pretentious…or is it? Is there something moving through me, speaking through me, when I write from my heart? Can I shove my ego as well as my intellect out of the way? Speaking of intellect, and ego, and mind…
  • Pigeon Pose: Could writing help me become better acquainted with my own mind? The way my thoughts sometimes behave like grasshoppers on steroids? The phrases and connections and story elements I use repeatedly, without intention? The cycles of feeling I’ve written something fine, only to plummet to the certainty it’s all drek, that I can never get anything right?
  • Corpse Pose: Is writing a way of stilling my thoughts and becoming fully present–through words, are you kidding? Ah, those moments when it feels like I’m not making up these words, they’re coming from somewhere else, I’m just a lens, a focal point through which light passes.

I have no easy answers, but I will be watching myself–my self–more closely as I write. And who knows, I might even achieve a new literary Downward-Facing Dog.