Sara R. Turnquist's Blog, page 37

I’m Sharing A Story

Hey, all! I have made a decision. It’s a pretty big decision for me. I decided to take one of my completed works and post it, scene by scene, here. Every Friday. At some point, I will offer the entire novel for free to anyone who signs up for my mailing list. So, be on the look out for that. The novel I selected is titled “Off to War”. And here is the first scene!

 

Chapter One, Scene One – News

Elizabeth Thompson stopped to check her reflection in the mirror as she tucked a stubborn, errant blonde curl back into place. She fanned her flushed face. It would not do for John’s parents to see the aftereffects of her running down the block to make it home. But it wouldn’t require a close examination for anyone to see that this is exactly what had transpired. Must everything in her appearance betray her? Her hair was tousled and her dress disheveled. Working to re-pin her hair proved difficult. Then she smoothed over the folds of her deep blue dress as best she could.

To her delight, her ministrations worked to improve her appearance somewhat. While it was true her hair didn’t have the same polish to it that it had when Nancy had finished with her that morning, at least it it appeared intentional. And though her dress was no longer neat and pressed as it had been fresh from the iron, everything was in its place. She hoped it was enough.

Drawing in several deep breaths, Elizabeth closed her eyes and clasped the cross John had gifted her one long-ago Christmas. John. Just thinking of him brought a smile to her face. He was everything to her: best friend, confidant, beau, and, unofficially, fiancé. The features of his face: his dark brown eyes, square jaw, chiseled nose and brow, and brown hair, were as familiar to her as her own reflection. Even now, she envisioned those angles she had come to know so well. Her vision of John smiled at her and then chuckled. His voice’s melodic smooth baritone entranced her. After allowing herself several moments to revel in her daydream, she pulled herself away from the dream John for sake of the real one.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Elizabeth poked her head out of her door and glanced at the case clock in the hall. They would be here any minute! Her heart beat a little faster as she moved from the mirror in her room over to the window to keep vigil over their coming.

Elizabeth allowed her mind to wander back to their conversations of late. She and John had talked and dreamed about marriage, but nothing had been set in stone. This was not for fear of their parents’ reactions. Quite the contrary. They knew their parents would be all too happy to hear of their plans. For now, it was their secret. It was, perhaps, a poorly kept secret. She would wager almost anything that their parents altogether expected their intentions to marry.

As she watched, a carriage pulled up and four familiar figures exited. He was here! With all due haste, she made her way through the hallway, down the stairs, and toward the front door. John and his family were regular dinner guests at the Thompson house. It was not only because of John and Elizabeth’s close connection, rather, the frequency with which the families engaged in social interactions stemmed from their fathers’ relationship. They were in medical practice together. This situation had been what spurred an initial friendship between John and Elizabeth. The ladies of the home had also become close friends. Because of these close connections, it had long been the wish of their parents that John and Elizabeth be joined in matrimony. So, all things considered, the two families supped together at least twice a week.

Soon, the door chime rang through the house. Elizabeth had just made it to the grand entry. And, as much as she wished she could, she dare not open the door. That would be an atrocious breach of protocol. Instead, she waited until one of the maids made her way to the door. The seconds ticking by felt like hours as Elizabeth waited to lay eyes on her beloved. At last, one of the housemaids, Amanda, appeared and opened the door to admit John, his parents, and his sister. Elizabeth’s face lit up as her blue eyes met the deep brown ones she had come to know so well. And John moved toward her, embracing her as if it had been years since they had seen each other, not mere hours. But she welcomed it all the same. He risked pressing a kiss to her cheek as he pulled back.

“You are beautiful this evening, Elizabeth,” he said, taking her hands in his.

“Thank you.” Her face warmed, thinking he was being kind. She knew she was a mess. Her hands felt small in his.

John’s parents and sister passed them, nodding to Elizabeth. Smiling in greeting to them, she nodded as well. Was it just her imagination or was there something off in his mother’s affect? Some sadness in her eyes? But there wasn’t much time for her to ponder whatever it might be as they moved on toward the parlor where Elizabeth’s parents waited, leaving she and John alone for a moment.

After his parents passed out of sight, John raised one of her hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. And whatever thoughts she was having about his mother vanished in her swirling love for him.

“I’ve been counting down the minutes all afternoon,” he said, his voice seeming even deeper.

“As have I.”

He took her arm and, turning them toward the parlor, took slow steps toward the chaperonage of their parents.

“There is something important I must speak with you about,” he said, his voice distant in that moment. His eyes were fixed on something in front of him, not quite meeting hers.

“Oh?”

“We’ll take a stroll after dinner.”

“You’re going to make me wait through the whole dinner?” she moaned.

He lifted a finger to touch her nose, smiling. “Yes. And I know you can be patient.”

She halted in her tracks and gave him a pout that was only half real, but definitely exaggerated.

“I’m not telling you,” he insisted. “Now come on, Lizzie.” He laughed, pulling at her arm. “Or our parents are going to start wondering where we went.”

She conceded. His parents had allowed them their brief unchaperoned moment, but there were boundaries to their trust. So she followed him to the parlor where their parents were already in deep conversation about…what else? The war between the states.

It seemed the war was all anyone could talk about these days. Elizabeth tired of hearing about it. All the more as the whole thing seemed so ridiculous to her. The South didn’t seem to have an ethical leg to stand on. Who in his right mind would think it was just to own another person, to sell another person, to beat another human being, to separate someone from his or her family? It all seemed so obvious that the Union had the moral high ground. And then for the Southern states to just try to leave? Secede from the Union indeed! Unimaginable! Yet it was happening. And now Americans were killing Americans. It was unthinkable.

Her father shared the latest news he heard about the advancing of the Confederates and the naval battles being won by the North. John’s mother shared that one of her friends had a cousin who was part of a Sanitary Commission. She had heard all manner of stories about the conditions in the camps. Elizabeth was only half listening, trying not to get bombarded by all this war talk.

Turning to John, she hoped he would be interested in playing cards. But to her surprise, he was listening rather intently. Strange, she had never known him to be so interested in the goings-on in the war. Then again, he was always looking for stimulating conversation. Elizabeth found herself envying the younger siblings who had engaged in some kind of amusing game across the room. She longed to join them, but knew her place was next to John. So, she was consigned to be a party, albeit silent party, to all this talk of war.

Elizabeth was all too happy when, several minutes later, the butler came in and informed them that dinner was served. As they made their way toward the dining room, Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief. At some point, her mother had insisted to her father that the dinner table was no place for talking of war and such horrid things. So it would be a safe haven for Elizabeth. Conversation would most often turn to things of society, which was only somewhat more interesting to Elizabeth. And they would always end up talking of her father’s medical practice, a topic she found much more intriguing. Then there was this after-dinner conversation with John hanging over her head.

Waiting for whatever John had to tell her made for a long dinner. Patience was not one of the virtues Elizabeth possessed. On most nights, she followed the conversation between her father and John’s father with little effort, but tonight her thoughts were much departed from their exchange as she wished away the minutes until she and John could be alone again. That time was not quick in coming. She had to feign interest through several dinner courses, nodding here and there to conversation she wasn’t listening to. John, however, seemed much engrossed in sharing whatever medical cases he had come across that day or listening to the cases the more seasoned doctors recounted to notice Elizabeth’s lack of presence.

At long last, the dessert plates were taken and the men prepared to retire to the mens’ lounge. John begged off, stating that he would like to take Elizabeth for a walk. Her father granted his permission and her mother insisted she wear an outer covering due to the chilly evening air. Moments later, draped in her cape, and without further ado, Elizabeth and John were off.

They stepped out of the house and onto the sidewalk. Elizabeth took in a deep breath, glad to be free of their parents and of having to stand on any form of ceremony. Amanda, one of the house maids, served as their chaperone. But it wasn’t the same as having her mother look over her shoulder. For all intents and purposes, it was just them. Glancing over at John, she drew closer to him, wrapping an arm even tighter in his. He offered her a smile, placing his free hand on her hand that captured his arm. This closeness still caused her stomach to turn in flip flops. Together they strolled down the street, Amanda in tow, enjoying the fine weather and beautiful scenery, making small talk. It wasn’t long before John turned them toward the park.

Elizabeth grew ever anxious for whatever news he had to share. But she sensed he was waiting for the right moment. And she enjoyed the easiness of these moments so much she dare not disturb it. As they made their way into the park and toward a bench, they covered benign topics such as the weather and the goings-on of their families and mutual friends. Amanda chose a bench far enough away to afford them some level of privacy, yet close enough to maintain a proper chaperonage. John helped Elizabeth arrange her cape so she was covered and warm, an unnecessary worry. With him beside her, the coolness of the evening was the last thing on her mind.

Then a silence fell between them.

“How were your rounds today?” she offered into the quiet that had befallen them.

John had just completed medical school and was interning at a hospital nearby.

“They were fine.” He did not offer anything further.

Odd. He always had a couple of cases to tell her about. When they were younger, they poured over their fathers’ textbooks together. And she had done her share of helping him study during his tenure in medical school. It had become a game of sorts between them for him to detail the cases he had seen that day and let her attempt to diagnose the patients. Yet this evening he remained silent. Whatever was on his mind weighed heavily.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She leaned forward so she could see his face more clearly.

He stared off into the distance in silence for a while. Long enough it made Elizabeth uncomfortable.

At last, he spoke. “We visited a wing of the hospital that cares for wounded soldiers.”

“Oh?” Her voice was soft, just above a whisper.

“It was unlike anything I had ever seen before…bodies mangled…” He shook his head.

She understood. He didn’t want to impress any more imagery on her.

“I can’t imagine what that must have been like for…” she started, reaching out to touch his arm.

“And so today I enlisted in the Northern regiment.” The words hung in the air. His eyes held hers. They were serious. And hopeful that she would understand.

Her heart dropped. She was speechless. How could he make such a decision without talking to her first?

He stood and stepped away from her before turning back to face her again. “I know I should have said something to you first. But you should have seen it, Lizzie, the pain, the death. What those men needed was more help on the front line. That could have saved limbs, that could have saved lives. How could I not offer my skills to help so many?”

“I understand.” She surprised herself with her calmness. Then her voice began to break. “But I can’t….I don’t…that is…I…”

“It’s okay.” He sat down and gathered her into his embrace.

“What of our plans?” she managed through tears that were now falling.

“I still want to marry you.” He pulled back, cupping her face. “So much.”

“Then let’s get married now.”

The words fell from her lips almost before she thought them. A tingle shot through her at the thought of getting married in the next few days. She couldn’t believe those words had just come out of her mouth.

John cocked his head as he studied her features. Elizabeth knew that look. She couldn’t hide her trepidation from him. He would know she didn’t want to throw together a wedding in a few days any more than he did, rush through a honeymoon, and then spend their first married year separated for who knew how long.

“That would make me happy. Truly happy,” he said. “But I won’t make you a war bride. And I won’t risk making you a young widow.”

She reached up then, placing her fingertips on his lips. “Don’t talk like that!”

He took her hand in his. “It’s a real possibility.”

There seemed to be a hole forming in her chest from where her heart had dropped. And it ached. She threw herself into his arms. “I won’t think like that. I can’t!”

They remained in each other’s embrace, not caring what Amanda might think. After some moments, John pulled back only far enough to look at her. He hooked his finger under her chin to tilt her head up.

“Remember, I love you.” His voice was firm and confident.

“Always and forever?” she sniffed.

“Always and forever.” He pressed a kiss to her lips.

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The Transition from Writer to Speaker

Even now I am in the midst of this transition. Perhaps, admittedly, early yet in this process. But, it is my desire that this blog be a place where I share this journey. And this is one of the next steps for me, so here it is.

The Challenges:

By and large, writers tend to be introverts. This is not true across the board, of course. But if you check what Meyer-Briggs says about it, “author” falls into the “introvert” category. On personality tests, I tend to score about equal on the introvert/extrovert portion, so it’s neither easy nor difficult for me. Am I scared to get in front of people and talk? No. Does it make me nervous? Yes. I would much rather be by myself with my computer, sharing that same info through a blog or in a one-on-one conversation.

What could I say that someone wants to hear? This is a struggle. But, honestly, people want to know what it’s like to be a writer. The ever-popular “where do your ideas come from?” (which we all know they really mean “what inspires you?”). There may also be some life experience that can be helpful to others. I have come through two fairly severe bouts of postpartum depression and am now on the other side of it. Women who are struggling want to hear what that recovery process looked like (though it’s different for everyone, there are common elements). I also share my experiences raising children with Autism and ADHD. Learning to live with these challenges in our day-to-day lives, and sharing what we have learned, can bring hope to others who are in the early stages. It’s all about finding your niche. What knowledge/experience do you have that’s valuable to others?

Finding speaking venues. Reaching out to local groups is one way to find those venues. Libraries, book clubs, groups that are related to your subject matter…a group of new moms is going to be my target audience for sharing my journey through postpartum depression. This, in my opinion, is really where you have to put yourself out there.

The Pluses:

Networking. Getting your name out there. Need I say more? There may not always be an opportunity to sell books at these venues (I’m not setting up my Historical Fiction/Romance books when I am invited to speak about postpartum depression). But there will always be an opportunity to share who you are. To make connections. And maybe even have a chance to speak somewhere else because of one of those connections.

The Experience. This is another skill you will hone and perfect. And this will be another tool in your “bag of tricks”. It is becoming such, more and more these days, that writers aren’t just writers. We are promoters/marketers, speakers, editors, among other things. How many tricks can you fit in that bag?

Instant Feedback. This is one thing that is different from our writing. When we have the audience in front of us, we can see their reactions, hear their comments, interact with them. That’s not something we get when we write. There’s something to be said about that kind of connection with our audience.

And so, as I’m working my way through this transition (adding “speaker” to my bag of tricks), I am thrilled to bring you along and share my experiences with you. Come what may. Anyone else out there in this transition? Care to share any wisdom?

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Closet Writer: Why you should come out

I was a self-proclaimed closet writer. Does that mean I wrote in the closet? Not exactly. It means I was very secretive about my writing. No one read what I wrote…I couldn’t face the chance they would hate it. The work was too close to my heart, I couldn’t bear the rejection! Besides, who did I think I was? I don’t have any kind of college coursework or classes to back up my work. I was a science major and here I am writing Historical Fiction. Basic English coursework, basic History classes. Surely, if I put myself out there, everyone would know I was a fraud.

Overcoming the Fear. At some point, we have to just gather our courage and step out into the world with our art and share it. I let my husband read it. But, let’s face it, he would tell me it was good even if it stunk like last week’s leftovers. Then I shared it with a friend who has a great habit of being super honest. No matter what. Believe me, I was terrified. But, against all odds, she loved it. We never know if we don’t take the risk.

The Next Steps. After some time, my husband and friend convinced me to put my first novel out into the publishing world in hopes to have it published. Thus began the scary process of querying. Cue nerves. But, believe it or not, one of my queries came back with a positive response – someone wanted my novel!

You are not alone. My point is this: at some point every author has had similar experiences. We all feel close to our work. We all fear rejection because of this. And we all have had to realize that there will be those who don’t like what we put out there. This is an industry in which one must have thick skin. It doesn’t mean that what we put out isn’t worth while, or even good. It just means that people are entitled to their opinion. But no one has ever succeeded without first risking failure. And some of the greatest successes of our time (take Walt Disney, for example) succeeded only after experiencing failure.

What is keeping you from submitting your work to a publisher? Or even from sharing your work with a trusted friend? If you are working on honing your craft, do you have a critique partner or beta reader you trust to give you feedback?

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Writers Conferences: Yea or Nay

There was a conference this past weekend not terribly far from me and it was reasonably priced. But, looking over the session line up (the classes offered), I just wasn’t that excited about going. And there weren’t going to be any agents there to practice pitching to. I went back and forth about going. I ended up deciding to attend mostly because I didn’t have a good reason not to (it was so well-priced, I didn’t have anything else taking up my weekend, and it was within driving distance). And am I ever glad I went! I am ever the one to encourage writers of all levels to attend conferences and I’m glad I took my own advice. What can you get out of a conference? Especially if you are not looking forward to any of the classes?

Networking. This is probably the number one thing. You meet other authors who are at various stages in their careers. Some one you meet over lunch may just be a connection that can help you along the way at some point. Even if not, it’s a chance to meet a critique partner, a beta reader, or someone in your genre who understands your craziness. Which leads me to my next point…

Being among the like-minded. Let’s face it…all writers have some amount of crazy. We make up people and then have them talk to each other. That’s not entirely sane. And yet it is…such an enigma. The fellowship of the not-quite-sane-and-yet-not-crazy is precious. To be around others that understand what you mean and can relate to the fact that your browser history would definitely raise a few eyebrows of the local homicide detectives.

Mentoring. I have yet to be to a conference big or small that didn’t offer agent appointments and/or mentoring appointments. That 15 minutes to pick a mentor’s brain can be so valuable. You can focus that time on your weakest area. This past weekend, I zeroed in on my synopsis writing. And the mentor gave me more help than I dared hope for. Now I have more confidence in my ability in an area that needed a LOT of work.

Being present. I’m talking about marketing…getting YOUR name out there. If you don’t attend the conference, that’s a whole bunch of people who might could have heard about your books that didn’t. You are one who champions your cause the best. You are the one who cares the most about getting your name out there. And you have to be present to do so.

Learning. I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least mention the learning. And even though none of the sessions looked like they would really help me, I went in with a different attitude once I was there. What can I glean from these authors who are further along than I? Who know more about craft than I? And, you know what? I did learn. Not all of it was new information, but there were more take-aways than I expected.

All in all, I would say that attending ANY conference is a good idea. No matter how small. There is always something to learn, always new writers to network with, and, if your attitude is right, always more to be gleaned than you can imagine.

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Stuck in the Middle

Pick a day, any day…and I will tell you which manuscripts I am working on. Yes, you heard me right…manuscripts. Why would you have more than one WIP (work in progress)? Well, the simple answer is that different people work at different paces and in different ways. For me, the story ideas come faster than I can sit down and finish a novel beginning to end. So, how many manuscripts am I working on? And what are they?

The One I’m Editing. I’m always working through doing editing on a manuscript I just finished. As it just so happens, today I finished my edits on the one I have been working on for a while. So, it’s about ready to click that send button and be queried to agents/publishers. Yay! Editing is…not my favorite. But thankfully, I don’t do it every day. I split my time between editing and writing, so that I can still breathe.

The One I’m Writing. I’m always working on writing something. My current WIP is about halfway done, which is where I like to be when I finish up one edit. Now I can split my time between editing the first half of this manuscript and writing the ending half. This manuscript is requiring a lot more research than most, so it’s coming along slower than normal.

The One I’m Plotting/Researching. I’m always thinking about the next one. When I’m about halfway through with the one I’m writing, an idea will come along, a spark, that will excite me and give me a storyline for another book. Now that I’m not doing heavy editing on a whole different manuscript, I will start preliminary research for this next one. Fun stuff!

So, there it is. Three WIPs going at one time. Different places in each. Now, this may be just me, or maybe there are other writers out there like this. I don’t know. But it is my process and it works for me. You have to find what works for you and go with it. Happy Writing!

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Help! I Can’t Find Time To Write

So, having trouble finding time to write? Me too! I bet you have another job, or a crazy busy life, or some kids and a house to care for, or a mix of the above mentioned. It’s an all too common problem with writers. Especially those of us who cannot claim it as our full time career. Even then, I believe there are challenges.

The Never-Ending “To Do” List. And believe me, it will never end. There will always be more that needs to be done. Especially if you are a stay at home mom/dad. Something is always lurking around the house, or coming up with one of the kiddos that has to be done. Being a stay-at-home is a full time job and then some. I know. Even with help. I have help come in a few hours each day to help manage the chaos so that (hopefully) I can get some writing done and I still haven’t sat down to work on a manuscript (save that writing weekend) in three weeks, maybe longer. My weekly schedule just hasn’t allowed for it.

How to Manage the List. We’ve talked about the “on the beam”/”off the beam” idea in the sense that you need to decide what remains on your list, what you delegate to hubby or others, what can be moved, and what gets crossed off altogether. I need to take a little bit of my own advice and look at my list with a more discerning eye.

So, where do I find the time? You don’t find the time, you make the time. Just like with anything. I never miss a scheduled doctor’s appointment or fail to give that adequate time. So, I need to treat my writing with the same respect. It’s not going to happen if we don’t carve out time to do it. Therein lies the key.

What happens if I don’t feel inspired when that time comes. I would encourage you to use Google to search “writing prompts” and try one or just journal. Anything you can do to get the “pump” primed. Once your juices are flowing, turn to your work in progress and you’ll find that things will come much easier.

I truly do hope that you find these suggestions helpful. I am finding in my days and in my life, that if I don’t make writing a priority and fight for that time, it’s just not going to happen. So, cut out the distractions however you need to and have at it. Happy writing!

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Riding the highs and lows of life

I know I have titled this blog “Riding the highs and lows of life”, but let me just talk about this week alone! What a week it has been! It’s often been said to me that, for writers, your blog is an opportunity for your readers to get a glimpse into your life, to “peek behind the curtain” if you will. Well, I’m about to invite you into my living room to sit down for a frank conversation about my week. Not just to talk about me, but to talk about how we all have to go with the flow in life sometimes and ride those waves.

Writing Weekend (HIGH) – I had the opportunity this past weekend to just go away and write. It. Was. Amazing. I got so much research and writing done. And I had a blast doing it. Having that kind of concentrated time allowed me to really delve into my characters heads and go to deeper places. What a high indeed!

Health Issue (LOW) – I came home to some kind of intense pain in my leg. Come to find out I have several clots in one of my veins. So, from about mid-thigh to mid-calf in that leg, the blood flow is cut off in that vein. Not only that, where the vein junctions in my thigh, leads to my lungs. So, it creates the risk that one of the clots can break off and shoot to my lungs. Yeah, not so much fun. So, I’m on blood thinners. Also not fun. Take an already cold-natured person and make them even colder. Well, that’s the least of my issues with the blood thinner. This became quite the crashing low after my really high moment. But, with God’s help, I was able to keep my spirits up, keep my emotions in check, and ride the ebbing wave through. Again, the moment you think you’re down and out…you are.

Much Needed Home Improvement Projects Done (HIGH) – Hubby and I finally did a backsplash in our home and painted the first of many rooms (our son’s room) that need to be done. Fantastic! Check and check. And we decorated for Easter. So, our house is all springy and we are getting through our to-do list for the house at long last. Another boost.

More Leg Pain and Side Effects from Blood Thinners (LOW) – Part of this may be because I was so gung-ho about getting so much done in a 24-hour time period. And I realize I need to rest my poor leg. But the blood thinners…grrr…not my fault that they have side effects. So, now I have to schedule a visit with another specialist who, I’m sure is going to want me off the blood thinners to stop this other problem, but I can’t come off the blood thinners….catch 22. Again, I can either allow myself to become frustrated, or I can remain calm and weather the storm with as much courage and calmness as I can muster.

So, this is what my week has kind of looked like…the highlights (and low points). Now, your highlights and low points look different I’m sure (I hope), but the principles are the same. Don’t take on this defeatist attitude. The minute you do, you are defeated. Cling to God, and allow His strength to wash over you. Let Him be your rock in the midst of the hard storms of life. Let Him hold you together. And bring you peace. This is the only way I know how.

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Research for Writers: The Joys and The Frustrations

I am currently working on the sequel to “The Lady Bornekova“. In fact, I am away on a long weekend to get some serious work done on the manuscript. A place where I am free from my normal distractions of life. And I am LOVING it. But this book is requiring a LOT of research. I may be the odd ball, or maybe I’m like every other Historical Fiction writer, I have a love-hate relationship with research. Here’s why:

LOVE IT:

The Learning. You learn so many cool things when you research. Plot lines, story lines, and interesting characters come to light when you do your research. Believe me, truth is stranger than fiction sometimes (and can be far more interesting). ESPECIALLY when these interesting tidbits are woven into fiction. Then you’ve got the potential for something amazing!

The Depth of Knowledge. One of the things that most Historical Fiction writers who really know how to research well (I do not count myself among them – I’m still new at this, I’m just sharing my knowledge), will encourage you to look for books on your subject. As opposed to simply research for that one tidbit of information that you need. Why? Because you don’t know what you don’t know. What do I mean by that? Well, there are those interesting twists, plots, and characters that you may not know about that happened/existed during that time period that would be pure gold in your story that you wouldn’t think to look up. And you’ll never know about them unless you read up about that time period or subject.

The Bunny Trails. Piggy backing on my previous point, bunny trails can lead you to a gold mine of information if you are prudent with your time and focus. Otherwise, they can be a time drain.

HATE IT:

The Time Drain. Right now I would just love to sit down and crank out this book, but that’s not possible. There is a lot of research between me and the rest of this manuscript. Research I did before hand, and I decided, in this case, to research as I’m writing. This is not a negative thing. Research sparks your storyline, but as you write, it can spark a direction to your research as well. But, no matter how you slice it, research takes time and effort. And it’s time and effort, I would rather put into writing sometimes.

The Bunny Trails. I know what you’re thinking. “Hey, that’s not right! You put this in both categories!” That’s because it belongs in both categories. Remember how I said bunny trails can be a time drain? They can be. And they can lead you no where. That’s the down side.

Sometimes…and I’m just going to say it…it can be boring. Can’t believe I said it, can you? Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE history. And I love learning new things. But I am not one for learning more about the nuances of battles and war. Well, this sequel takes place during the first part of the Hussite WARS. So, guess what I’m doing a ton of research on? You got it – battles, war, and the like. Not the most interesting thing I’ve ever researched. But there are gems to be found. The fact that this misfit army made up of farmers and working class laborers overcame such odds against well-trained armies. Amazing. And it really happened.

So, all in all, there are ups and downs on the research trail. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Happy writing!

 

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Setbacks

We all have setbacks in our lives…whether they be connected to our crafts or our daily lives. These things creep into our existence and rear their ugly heads, taking our lives over, it seems, and distracting us from our goals, our purpose, our plans.

Physical Setbacks.  This is where I am right now. I am struggling with some health issues that have all but taken me out. I feel as if I am down for the count. But the minute I start to believe that, is the minute it becomes true. The old adage “mind over matter” is so frequently quoted because there is truth to it.

Mental Setbacks. I have a healthy dose of this going on too. One of my medications causes me to feel really, really tired. This makes concentration and focus very difficult. Writer’s block, here I come. But, again, when I start to allow that to become the truth for me, it becomes my state of being. And perpetuates itself. So, I contacted my doctor, resolved the issue as best we could (I know this is not always possible). Now I am working toward living and working in this “new normal”.

External Setbacks. Believe you me, I have seen setbacks of many size, shape, and color. And I know how devastating some of them can be. Not all of them can be worked through. And I’ve seen my share of depression…I know that some of these setbacks can get you down. But I feel confident in saying that, even in struggling with a setback like depression, you have to strive for recovery goals. Goals like getting out of bed, showering, brushing your teeth, etc. The stronger you are in the midst of what you are going through, the higher you set that bar.

How do we overcome setbacks? Work through them. Set smaller goals (baby steps if you have to) and focus on them. It’s not going to be all sunshine and roses. By that, I mean it’s not going to be easy, but with your support system in place and your own determination driving you, I have no doubt that you will push through, you will overcome.

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A Whole New World

I would say that I’m still fairly new to this writing journey. I have been writing for most of my life, but as far as actively working to hone my skills through courses and conferences and workshops, it’s only been the last couple of years or so. Still, even for a newbie, some things are becoming apparent to me. One thing is for certain, becoming a writer changes the way you look at the world around you.

You find INSPIRATION in unexpected places. Stories come alive to you in a way they never did before. And the most mundane objects can spark an idea or even a storyline in your mind. This is something that has always been true for me, but has reached a whole new level since taking my craft more seriously.

You can’t just READ a book anymore. You find yourself annoyed by the inconsistencies and the places where the story or the writing fell short. Not necessarily because you are a judgmental person, but because you have learned to be super discerning in editing your own work that something about it just strikes you, like someone hitting a dissonant chord. It just doesn’t sit well.

You can’t just WATCH a movie anymore. You find yourself constantly analyzing storylines. The same goes for television shows. You are tuned in (pun intended) to the writing. Your desire to better your own skill had wired you to note the most minute things – character arcs, themes, conflict, scene structure, and so and and so forth. You just can’t help it.

These are just the most glaring examples for me. There are likely more that you could name for yourself. And, as much as I miss just sitting back with a book or movie and watching for fun, I wouldn’t trade my new career aspirations for anything. Happy writing!

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