Eric Witchey's Blog: Shared ShadowSpinners Blog , page 28

The Quiescent Writer and the Path of the Five Whys

By Cynthia Ray

The 5 Whys is an iterative question asking technique developed by Sakichi Toyoda, used in process improvement work.�� Questions are used to explore the cause and effect relationships underlying a problem.�� Asking why at least five times is a way to get to the root cause of something.�� I���ve used this technique to understand issues, but never on myself���until now.

Recently, a friend asked me how my writing was going, and I muttered something about not having as much time to write as I would like, being too busy, etc.�� Later, as I mused on the conversation, it hit me like a chunk of nasty space rubble���all of my excuses were a sham; I was lying to myself.

I���d written steadily for a few years, but looking back over the past few months, it dawned on me that I was not writing at all.�� I���d become a Quiescent Writer, which is to say, no writer at all.�� Quiescence is a state of inactivity.����How the heck did I get here?����Heres where the Five Whys come in:

The First Why:�� Why did I lie to myself about not having time to write? Sure, my time is limited, but time is like money; we choose to spend it on what we choose to spend it on and I was choosing NOT to write, and not because I didn���t have time.�� Everyone has time, and much has been written about how to make time to write, how to motivate oneself to write.�� It wasn���t that.�� Then what?

The Second Why:�� Why didn���t I want to make time to write?�� Was I bored with writing?�� No, I love creating worlds and working with words.�� That still interested and fascinated me, but perhaps I wasn���t writing the right kind of thing?�� Fantasy and science fiction are fun, but maybe I���m a frustrated literary crime fiction novelist?�� Nah, if you aren���t writing, what does it matter what you are not writing.�� I got the feeling I was avoiding something.�� The cold splash of fear in my stomach told me I was on the right path.

The Third Why:�� What am I avoiding by not writing?�� The answer sprang up from my gut and brought tears to my eyes.�� FEAR.�� A giant red-eyed demon kind of fear.

The Fourth Why:�� What am I afraid of? ��What is the fear? ��Of failing?�� Maybe. I certainly like to be successful; I like to feel competent, but there’s more.�� Mediocrity?�� Yes, that’s there, I never want to be in the middle of the bell curve, I want to be better.�� The fear came into focus.�� I had reached a certain point of proficiency with my writing, and couldn’t seem to get to the next level.�� I became frustrated at not being able to write through that ceiling.

And instead of pushing through, I stopped.�� Like scaling a mountain, and halfway up realize you are out of shape, and instead of pushing through, or doing something to strengthen yourself, you just lay down and cry about not being strong enough to get to the top of the mountain.�� I had just laid down and given up.�� I was afraid that I would never be better than right now.

The Fifth Why:�� Why did this fear of not being good enough paralyze me and stop me from doing what I wanted to do?�� This vein of fear went very deep, to the very root of me and I didn’t want to face what it might say about me as a writer, as a person.�� I stood on that chasm and visited with the red-eyed demon for a while.�� Turned out he was a hologram, and not real. �� I find that I am a courageous person, a brave person, and I decided to keep going.

I will be setting a new writing schedule, but taking a new gentler approach.�� I don’t have to crash any ceilings or fight any demons.�� I can sit on my patio and smell the flowers, and write to my heart’s content. �� This journey to root causes of things will make me a better writer.�� Why?�� Sorry, I’ve reached the end of my answers for now.

Tagged: art, author, blogging, Calm, change, courage, creative process, fear, writing

The Art of Friendship

By Elizabeth Engstrom

I���m an introvert. I enjoy my own company, and for the most part, don���t want to be out in public socializing and making small talk.

But I do it, and I do it for three reasons: 1. It���s good for me. I don���t do well when left to myself and my weird ideas for too long without some social reality check. 2. It���s fun, in moderation. And 3. It���s good for my career.

Let���s talk about that third part.

I���ve been a published author for many years, and in the early days of my writing successes, I attended many writing conferences and conventions. I went for several reasons: to learn how to write better, to learn how to articulate that which I did seemingly by the seat of my pants, and to meet other people who were wrestling with the same issues that all writers wrestle with. Writers are a peculiar bunch, and I found I could relax in the company of other writers. I still do.

During those early days, I did learn to write better, I learned to talk intelligently about writing, and in fact, learned to teach the skills I acquired. I also met wonderful people who I count among my friends to this day. These are lifelong friends, not acquaintances who come and go. These are professional writers whose paths cross mine at seemingly random yet fortuitous moments. I can let my hair down with these people; I can be myself without going back to my hotel room and burn with self-recriminations afterward. (Those of you who are the same breed of overly-sensitive writers know exactly what I���m talking about.)

But while this is not a treatise on how to be a good friend, I want to mention something that one of my best writer friends said to me the other day: ���I know that you will come through with anything you say you will do, or anything we agree to do together.��� Wow. This was the highest compliment possible, because not only are we social friends, we are professional friends.

This made me reflect on how fortunate I am to have such amazing friends in the industry (and outside the industry too, but that���s a different essay). I meet my deadlines. I say what I mean and I mean what I say. I respect their privacy, and I respect their introvertism. I come through with my obligations to them, no matter how difficult or uncomfortable those obligations become. I pull maintenance on these friendships. I keep in touch, not out of obligation, but because I have grown to love them and their children, and grandchildren, and parents, and I empathize with their difficulties in life. I never take advantage. Over the years, these friendships have solidified into extraordinary relationships. My life is rich beyond imagination because of my friendships with other writers.

So as you wend your way through this weird profession/lifestyle, pay attention to those who help you, who intrigue you, who inspire you. Foster friendships there, not with the thought of what they can do for you in the future, but how you can grow old together in this industry, helping, inspiring, and intriguing each other. Perhaps you will reflect some day that the riches you received as a writer have nothing to do with your bank balance or the number of books with your name on them, but with the quality of the company you keep.

What Is Success Anyhow?

I’m late again! I’ve got to be the flakiest Shadowspinners blogger here. Or, the most likely to get overwhelmed and lose track of things. Either way, I am hanging my head in sheepish mode as I write this post. The funny thing is, a few minutes ago I thought I was on top of it when I remembered to check when I was due to write a post.

Whoops!

Despite this blip, it’s amazing how much I can get done when real life whams me in the face. As of about three weeks ago I suddenly became a prospective first-time home buyer. (For context, see this blog post over on my personal blog.) The process has taken over my brain, eating up the space required for remembering and writing Shadowspinners posts, paying bills, and so on.

So this is my real life. But what about my writing life? (My writing life is my real life too, yes, but you know what I mean.)

Well, it has to proceed forward because of deadlines. And that’s not counting my day job too. What strikes me in the middle of this high-stress time is how resilient we are even as our stomachs tie in knots and sleep eludes us. Overall, I seem to be getting a lot done. For example, over the weekend I finally finished rewriting the end of the novel. It felt great!

Then, first thing this morning the emails started: house inspection details, getting a contractor in to check the dry rot situation on a house I would love to own (stay objective, Lisa!), setting an appointment with the mortgage broker … My god, I had no clue!

In the midst of it all fiction waves its hand like it always does. Don’t forget me! You need to get some of me in today too! And my breathing grows shallow, so I do my breathing exercises once again.

There’s no solution to any of this except to hunker down and get shite done. For a few weeks, I say “no” to social engagements, reading (which is hard), and anything to do with browsing for furniture online. The last is a huge temptation. I mean, my own home! I can’t help but daydream, but I can’t. Not yet. For one thing the deal isn’t done. For another, I need to get the writing done.

So I have been. Yesterday I wrote while at the salon. That’s 45 minutes right there while my hair marinated in dye. A few weeks ago I wrote all day at a mountaintop retreat house while my friends skiied. (The weekend away had been on the books for months.) I enjoyed my Friday happy hour last week — while writing.

Last night I ended up meeting a friend for a drink. I had finished the new final chapters and decided to reward myself. (Hint: Rewards are good during the hectic times.) We got to talking about success. What is success anyhow, especially when it comes to writing? Is it awards or sales or what? Most of the time I don’t feel particularly successful as a novelist. I could have a bigger publisher, I could write faster than I do, I could have a better “platform” that I actually do something with, I could be more like this person or that person …

That way madness lies. So what is success?

Success is writing while at the salon.

I feel hectic and forgetful right now, sure, but also very successful. I’m facing my terror of home ownership and getting my writing done. I’m managing to walk my dog too. And that counts for heckuva lot too.

So what’s your idea of success?

Tagged: anxiety, home ownership, success, writing

Betwixt and Between

By Christina Lay

We writers spend a lot of time down the rabbit holes of our imagination. Isolated and alone, huddled in attic garrets or converted rumpus rooms, we struggle to transcribe what we find on our solo wanderings into something that will transcend the limits of language and resonate beyond the mere telling. The gulf between writer and reader might be vast or it might be as thin as a dragonfly’s wing, but it is there, and often, it is impenetrable.

We design elaborate enticements in the form of dashes, lines and squiggles on paper, otherwise known as words, to attract the ever elusive reader. Our chosen medium is language but we write stories and craft poems because what we are trying to express lies beyond the reach of language, just out of grasp, betwixt and between the lines, flashing out of sight like sunlight on a river and every bit as fast.

What in the hell are you talking about, Christina? I hear you asking. I wish I knew. As often happens to me when I am thrust into a situation as ripe with inspiration, stimulation and fodder for thought as an event like Mythic Realms, I find myself honing in on one scrap of information, or phrase, or idea, and worrying at it until I arrive at some tenuous understanding of a greater thought that eludes me like starlight on a shadowed forest floor. Then I write about it, because confusion loves company.

Last year at Mythic Realms (then Fairie Con) my point of obsession was “The avatar of unknowing” a phrase spoken most innocently by the artist Stehpanie Pui-Mun Law and you can read my musings on the subject here if this blog hasn’t already hurt your brain.

This year I’ve been digesting something said by conjure man��Orion Foxwood- “Intimacy is in the invisible, the silent places.”

The Intimacy of which Orion spoke, or at least as I heard it, is a shared but hidden reality that unites us not only with each other, but with the past all the way back to the original bonfire, a forgotten knowing that not only writers, but all artists seek to describe with inadequate means.

Listening to Orion talk about his experiences “walking between worlds” and hearing the voices of spirits, fae, beings of other dimensions, I was struck by how much what he describes sounds like what we do as writers. Not always, but sometimes, when things are going well and the rabbit hole is an exciting, welcoming place rather than a dusty, disorganized rumpus room of despair, doesn’t it feel like we’re simply recording the voices of our characters? Transcribing a vision? Yes? No?

I’m working my way towards believing the writer’s most important skill is this ability to detect and listen to the silence in those intimate thresholds between worlds. The second most important skill is how to carry that vitality, that shared and perhaps lost knowing, back into our above ground world of story. How we translate, communicate, and express those silences is where our individuality and voice come in to play.

Another bit of wisdom I gleaned from Mr. Foxwood is the idea that magic is the art of conscious creation. Are we writers working magic when we create stories? Whether we are envisioning fantastic landscapes, recreating lost worlds, lovingly sketching a kitchen with a man, a woman, rain on the window, aren’t we retrieving story gold after a journey through the treacherous landscape of doubt, fear, ego and the clamor of too noisy lives?

To write or create any kind of art is to be in intimate communion with the deepest strata of ourselves. Creation is an underworld, inner world practice. So even though we lock ourselves away in order to go within, it appears the deeper we go, the further out we extend, across thresholds, into the shared spaces of a universal imagination.

The Forgotten Gods �� Yoann Lossel. This year’s artistic inspiration.

A gathering of so many artists, musicians, writers, dancers, craftspeople and wisdom workers in one place such as Mythic Realms is a fascinating study in how we humans attempt to express the inexpressible. The��experience reminds me of the importance of not only the perfect word, but the significance of every gesture, beat, rhythm, brush stroke, color, and stitch in our attempts��to understand and to be understood. It also assures me what I’m doing has value as I listen for what is silent, look for what is invisible and then use my craft, my skills and my magic to translate what I discover into our shared medium of story.

Tagged: art, creative process, creativity, FaerieCon West, inspiration, mythic realms, writing

Film Study for Fiction Writers

At the Wordcrafters writers conference last weekend, bestselling author Kevin O’Brien mentioned Alfred Hitchcock as one of his major influences. This got me thinking about movies in general and their value as a tool in the fiction writing process. There is a long standing relationship between film and fiction, and all narrative forms have some similarities. For writers and story tellers, there are a number of things about movies that make them particularly useful and fun to study.

You can experience an entire film in about two hours, beginning to end. In four hours, you can watch it twice. No matter how fast a reader you are, you’ll be hard pressed to read novels that fast, which means you can digest a relatively large number of movies in a modest amount of time. You’ll recognize patterns faster, and this makes films ideal for studying narrative structures and techniques. Watching a ton of movies with a critical eye is a great education on beginnings, middles, and endings.

The medium of film creates a certain type of storytelling. Characterization is brought out through action and dialogue. Settings are revealed through carefully chosen pictures and details. The unfolding story is presented in a series of scenes, with each scene serving a purpose in the narrative. This is all great stuff to do in fiction, and understanding how film makers work can help you understand how to do it in your writing.

With dvd commentaries there is a wealth of first hand story telling experience to draw on. Writers talk about the evolution of various drafts. Cinematographers talk about lighting and camera angles. Artists talk about set and costume design. Directors talk about difficulties they encountered, their understanding of the story, and the pains and triumphs of editing. Watching a great film with good commentaries is like attending a fantastic lecture on the creative process.

Fiction writers should read a lot of fiction and read widely, inside and outside their genre. There’s no substitute for that, but there are things to be learned from every narrative form. Movies are an opportunity to study story telling in another medium. Without a doubt, many valuable insights can come from that slight change of perspective. And if you want to learn suspense … start with Hitchcock.

The Monte Carlo Process, by Eric M. Witchey

Monte Carlo Process, by Eric M. Witchey

This week, I���m teaching fiction writing classes, so I���m thinking teacher thoughts. I���m also thinking about the Manhattan Project.

Yes, these things are connected.

During the Manhattan Project, according to Sam Kean���s The Missing Spoon, a wonderful book about the development of the periodic table, row upon row of women called ���computers��� were given pieces of large equations to solve. The experiments to which the equations belonged were theoretical constructs created by physicists. The fragments were functions as variables to larger, more complex calculations. In order to solve for a large number of possibilities, one variable would be changed in order to derive an outcome. This way, without modern computing, a thousand almost identical calculations could be tested for outcomes. Of course, the outcome they were looking for was a boom. Most results were useless, but the results that contributed to a boom were cataloged.

And what does this have to do with writing?

Any writer who has been at it long enough to become bored with what they do on any given day will, eventually, find themselves engaged in their own Monte Carlo process. The Monte Carlo process is different from mere trial and error. It is a test of a known construct with one minor modification.

In writing, on the simplest level, it is changing a character���s hair color. Suppose a young black woman, lean and willowy, grew up in a small steel mill town in Ohio during the rust bust of the 80s. She was part of a second generation Kentucky Coal family who had moved to the steel economy to support the war effort in the 40s. Her grandmother was a wilder, a sort of hedge witch, and her grandfather was a fallen, but not really a bad, angel. Of course, nobody in her family believed he was anything but a travelling salesman. Let���s call our young lady Sirona just for fun because that���ll get you some teasing in public schools (FYI: Sirona is a Celtic goddess of healing).

Obviously, we can go on and on about the life of our young lady. However, this is enough to illustrate the Monte Carlo process.

We take all the characteristics we have come up with for this young woman, and we write a few scenes from her developmental life. In each scene, we are testing her characteristics to see how they influence her behavior and the behavior of others. We might write her fist day at grade school. We might write her first kiss. We might write her earliest memory of the kitchen in the home in which she grew up. We might write a scene in which she is defending a bullied child, a cat, a dog, or even a tree. We might write a scene in which she is trying desperately to get out of the house for reasons we don���t yet know. We might even write a scene in which young Sirona heals someone or something. If I were doing it, I���d likely also play with scenes in which she encounters her long missing grandfather or has to deal with her thoroughly insane grandmother. I do like to play with insane people who turn out to be the only people who really understand the world.

I digress.

So, all of these scene tests are about discovering who our young woman will be on the page. None of them are scenes we plan to keep. None of them are scene we expect to be in the story in which she will be playing a role. They are just little writer games that we engage in to keep our own ennui at bay.

The above is all normal, but now we add the Monte Carlo process. Having actually done the above and not just wondered about convincing ourselves that we thought about it and therefore understand it, we change one thing about our young woman.

Just for fun, let���s make her hair a brilliant, fluorescent, natural, pale purple���not dyed. Actually, red will do, but I figured I���d get a little more extreme because of the witch and angel connection I discovered while writing the last couple paragraphs.

Now, we rewrite the same scenes. If, as is the idea, we allow the change to have an influence over the dynamics of the characters in the scenes, we will get a different set of behaviors from both the secondary players and Sirona. By doing this little trick, we come to understand both who she was before we changed her hair and who she might be once we have changed her hair. By changing only one variable at a time, we develop a sense of how she can become a more, or less, extreme influence on any story into which we might place her.

And, as with the Manhattan Project, the ultimate goal is a boom.

Every time a characteristic gives a more dynamic result on the page, we keep it.

While this process is a tool that does help in the development of character, it���s most likely that a working writer will not have time, or the inclination to spend the time, unless they are engaged in the writer���s equivalent of doodling. However, many of us do doodle in words. Additionally, many of us find ourselves teaching characterization, and one of the difficult things to get students to internalize is the fact that every aspect of character influences their relationship to the world around them. Something as simple as hair color changes the experience of the character in their world. One variable changed can mean the difference between meh and boom.

During one seminar I did for a bunch of truly creative middle school students, the kids had come up with a young woman troubled by family dynamics. Meh.

She was rebelling. Double meh.

She wanted a tattoo. Yeah, whatever.

She was expected to go into the family business. Yawn.

The business was a mortuary. What?

And all she really wanted in the world was to become a chocolatier.

Boom!

At night, she snuck out of her room in the funeral home in order to go to an abandon grade school where she had set up a little kitchen. There, she secretly made chocolate animals���

I love working with kids. They have no sense of how things ���should be.���

So, back to the Monte Carlo process. Imagine you are teaching 15 creative people characterization and story development. As a group you come up with a set of character attributes that cover a range of physical, psychological, and social values. Each person has the same set of values, and each person is given the same set of circumstances in which they must place their character. In fact, you can give them a very constrained set of scene goals and outcomes. However, they must interpret setting through character, and they must come up with the conflicts and emotional changes in the scenes. Then, you change one variable for each and every writer.

They write.

The outcomes of the scenes might be the same, but if the writer has grasped the rippling nature of the change to one variable, the path to that outcome is very likely to be different in each and every scene. If it is not different from the paths the other writers took in their scenes, then the variable was not understood as an influence on who the character is and how they relate to the world.

Fifteen writers writing the same scene while only one variable has changed can provide the group with a huge leap in insight into how details really are critical to understanding character and how they behave on the page.

-Boom-

Tagged: change, Characters, creative process, creativity, editing, Emotion, Eric M. Witchey, Eric Witchey

Confessions of a Wannabe Writing Conference Groupie, By Cheryl Owen-Wilson

First confession���I���m pea green with envy, and live vicariously through writing friends who attend more conferences in one year than I���ve attended in my entire lifetime. Alas, I���m constrained by those evil twins known as time and money.

Second confession���I love people, especially those who write. They are my tribe. I know the general public perceives we writers as recluses; sitting in a dark, smoke-filled room, drink in one hand, our tortured soul in the other, bleeding words upon the page. Actually, now that I think about it���I was that person just yesterday. ��But when I���m at a conference, I get to talk to real people, not just the one���s in my head. ��It���s a nice change of pace for we non-introvert type, writers.

Third confession���I love playing dress-up. I was in heaven when I discovered, at some conferences I could dress all weekend as my favorite character, in the well-worn books sitting on my nightstand. ��Just imagine my glee at not being looked at oddly when sporting a full on Steampunk costume, while a Wookie and I discussed the finer points of world building.

Fourth confession���I like free things and conferences have swag. From bookmarks, to clothe bags, to water bottles and candy. And best of all, at times you can even score free books signed by the authors.

Fifth confession���Let���s talk about those authors. I believe in the magic of absorbing good energy. So when I get to meet and soak up the fabulous juju of my favorite authors, I am filled to the brim and overflowing. Yes at these conferences, the people who are the movie stars in my life actually talk to me as an equal. They share their secrets and frustrations. As a result I leave revived and ready to conquer the next twenty thousand words head on.

Sixth confession���I���m not a marketing wiz, especially in the world of social media. I mean who knew tweeting was a marketing tool and not just the sound a bird makes. Marketing now takes up as much of an author���s time as the actual writing. Thus, I need all the short cuts I can learn from experts in the ever-evolving medium of social marketing.

Seventh confession���I don���t know everything there is to know about the craft of writing. Yes, I said it! I do however fear that the craft of writing is itself changing, at a rapid pace. Did you know the Global Language Monitor recently announced that the most used word of 2014 was not an actual word? It���s a heart emoji. Yes the short-cut symbol used in countless texts and messages as opposed to simply writing the words���I Love You. The second place winner was the symbol, #. I could go on and on, but I���ll stop there so I can plug the writing conference I���ll be attending next week. It���s a unique writing conference. How? The entire conference is dedicated solely to the craft of writing.

Check out their website and the award winning authors who will be in attendance. There���s still time to register- http://www.wordcraftersineugene.org

Final confession���This conference is being held in my home town and it will be populated by writers I���ve known since���well, since I first dared share a spooky story at a Ghostwriters Weekend Retreat. This retreat in its 25th year is also on the Wordcrafters website. Did I mention I love writing retreats also? Well perhaps I���ll save those confessions for another time.

Do you have confessions from attending writing conferences? Please do share and also where they are held and what unique qualities do they have?

Tagged: author, creativity, writers, writing, Writing conferences, writing habits, Writing retreats

Five Fabulous Reasons to Join a Critique Group

by Cynthia Ray

Last week, Liz Engstrom shared the joys and perils of writing classes, conferences and retreats.�� Critique groups are another wonderful way to connect with other writers, to get feedback on writing and to share your own knowledge.�� I���ve participated in several different critique groups, each with its own rules and ethics.�� All of them helped me grow my writing to the next level, and were key to getting my writing published.�� Here���s why:

The Five Fabulous Reasons to Join a Critique Group NOW:

Move from Good to Great:�� Critique groups are essential to moving a beginning writer from mediocre to exceptional.�� If we are open to it, the mentoring, coaching and helpful critique polishes our craft.�� Established authors also use critique groups to hone their story and work the wrinkles out.
Connection:�� Writers are a special tribe of which we are members. We get to hang out with people that are as weird as we are; folks who have the same passion and interests as we do. I���ve formed deep and lasting friendships with members of the writing groups I���ve been in.
Motivation: Critique groups expect you to write, and members encourage each other to keep going and to keep producing.�� Many groups offer prompts, prizes and awards.�� One critique group gives candy and applause for rejections; after all, rejections are proof that you are working, writing and submitting.
Generosity:�� None of us would be where we are today without the help of others; those who extended a hand, coached, mentored and guided us along the way.�� Participating in a group is one way to give back to the writing community, and help new writers find their way.�� When we share our time and our expertise in this way, we receive more than we give.�� It���s�� a gift to be able to read and give feedback, and watch people grow.
The Extras:�� You encourage others when they need it, and they encourage you.�� In addition, you will enjoy yourself.�� You will have fun.�� You will write more than you would have if you had not joined the group.

Ready to jump in?�� You can find writers groups on meetup.com.�� Try a couple before you decide which works best for you.�� Conduct a simple internet search for writers groups in your area.�� If all else fails, you can start your own.�� When I moved to Vancouver, Washington, I couldn’t find a group nearby so I started GroupMuse via meetup.com. ��GroupMuse��has been meeting for over two years.�� You are welcome to visit if you are in the Portland/Vancouver area.

Fellow blogger Elizabeth Engstrom��gives tips on starting a critique group here.

Are you a member of a critique group?�� Why do you keep going?

Tagged: creative process, writing

The Joys and Perils of Writing Classes, Conferences, and Retreats

by Elizabeth Engstrom

Disclaimer: I have taught writing classes for more years than I care to claim, and am currently on the Board of Directors of Wordcrafters in Eugene. We hold writing classes, retreats, and conferences.

I love writing conferences, retreats, and classes. I love attending, I love teaching, I love networking. I love picking up that writing tip, that craft detail, that golden nugget that I never knew, or once knew but have forgotten. I love making new friends (introvert that I am) who are as socially inappropriate as I am, because being with a group of writers is where I can be comfortable being my weird self.

Susan Wiggs speaks at Wordcrafters 2014

Before I was published for the first time, I became a member of a small ���teacherless��� writing group where we all taught each other and ourselves to write. When I was first published, I suddenly realized how little I knew, and went on a quest to find out more. I went to as many local, regional and national and international conferences that I could afford. When I became proficient enough and published well enough, I went to them because I was invited to be a presenter, but the best part was always sitting in the other sessions, taking notes, listening to those who had gone before, sucking up their wisdom and the droplets of truth that fell from their lips.

But there is an addiction lurking in there, at least for me. Staying in a hotel room in a new city, hanging in the restaurants and bars with my friends���old and new���sharing war stories of the publishing world, meeting people who could possibly further my career, finding new ways of promoting myself and my work��� this is all great fun, but it does not put words on the page.

And really: Writers write.

Eventually, we must pause in this quest for writing knowledge, because truth be told, nothing will teach us to write like writing. And being edited by a professional editor. That is where the real learning takes place. Practice. If all we did was party with our friends, nothing would get written. We would very successfully avoid the empty page and think we were busy being writers.

And then, once published, there is a short window of time in which to promote that book. This also takes time away from the keyboard.

So over my long career of writing, editing, teaching, publishing, and helping give a leg up to those coming along behind me, I have formulated time-constraint advice for those within whom the fire of fiction burns:

Go to as many local, regional, national, and international conferences as you can. Go to as many writing classes as you can, go on as many retreats as you can. Invest in this real-life education, which you will not get in a far more expensive MFA program. Go to some conventions, as they���re different and fun. Soak it up. Learn all you can. Have a concrete goal���written down���for every event you attend, and make sure you accomplish that goal.
Stop after two years and put your butt in the chair and get some writing done.
When your book comes out, set aside promotion time���six weeks, I say, and hit the road. Take advantage of every person you ever met at any of the conferences, workshops, retreats that you attended when you were learning (you got their email addresses, right?). You might revisit some of those conferences while you���re promoting, because promoting is a completely different skill set than writing. And again, you���ll learn a lot by talking with those who came before you.
After your designated promotion time is up, go home, put your butt in your chair and write.
As long as a book is in print, keep promoting yourself and your work, but go easy. This is no longer your main focus, and you can burn out your friends by talking about it. Most people don���t bombard you with the details of their working life. If you want to impress them, write another book.

My very first editor told me: ���You take care of your writing and your career will take care of itself.��� While there is much truth in that, it isn’t entirely my experience, as I care more for my career than anyone else does. But if I don���t take care of my writing, I don���t have a career at all.

So: Go. Learn. Enjoy. Network. Have fun.

And then go home and do the painful thing: Write your truth.

Tagged: book promotion, Elizabeth Engstrom, Susan Wiggs, writers workshops, writing classes, Writing conferences, writing conventions, Writing Dark Fiction, Writing retreats

8 Ways Positive Thinking Ruined My Writing Life (But No Longer)

This book epitomizes everything I detest about the cult of positive thinking. Her solution for hardship? This mantra: “I choose to live in Easy World, where everything is easy.” It’s laughable, it’s ridiculous, and I’m throwing this book (lent to me) away.

By Lisa Alber

I grew up in a New Thought positive-thinking household. It was my childhood religion, and it warped me the way any religion can if taken too far. You know how you hear about recovering Catholics? Consider me a recovering positive thinker.

The basic tenet of positive thinking as espoused by the New Thought movement and every self-help guru you ever read��is that you can achieve your heart’s desire through the power of the mind. Negative thinking is denounced and positive thinking becomes obligatory.

In theory, positive thinking is supposed to help us, but studies have shown that it often��leads to worsened depression, lower self-esteem, decreased��motivation, and increased��anxiety.

I’ve been thinking about how all of this relates��to my writing life. I can attest to the following:

1. Running after writing happiness — getting the best agent or the best book deal — made me miserable. The problem with going after happiness is that happiness as a goal in itself is a faulty proposition. What do we mean by it? And when we don’t achieve the goal that was supposed to make us happy? And keep not achieving the goal? After awhile, we might just self-sabotage ourselves by thinking, What’s the point of anything? Why am I putting myself through this? Why even bother?

2. The��more I tried to stay positive about writing the more despondent I became. I AM a great writer, I AM successful, I AM I AM I AM. If the positive messages you’re bombarding yourself with conflict with reality or your belief you can enter into a state of “cognitive dissonance.”�� As the Wikipedia page says, “The brain strives for internal consistency.” As a result of the dissonance, you might find your��writing self-esteem falling even further … more despondency … more depression … you get it.

3. I self-monitored myself into exhaustion. The thing about the cult of positive thinking is that it requires a lot of self-monitoring. We meta-think, which is to say we think about our thoughts. Wait, that was a negative thought; bad thought!; I gotta change that thought; my novel IS great and it WILL be published. There’s no way to keep that up all the time — and there comes a point when our��brains might��turn off altogether. Mental exhaustion does not promote creativity.

4. Believing that my publishing bad luck stories occurred because I wasn’t thinking positive enough also wore me out and increased my gloominess. Reality is reality, life isn’t necessarily fair, and no matter how hard we work, we might not get what we want. This isn’t our faults, but under the guise of positive thinking it’s hard to shake the notion that we are all-powerful. That’s a lot of frickin’ responsibility, my friends. No wonder��I blamed myself for everything and sometimes crawled into bed for days at a time!

5. I believed something was��wrong with me and compared myself to other writers to my own detriment. I suppose I’ll always struggle with this one. It’s hard not to compare ourselves against our peers and feel jealous at times. I now believe that positive thinking can worsen this tendency, thereby increasing our misery. Why? The cult of positive thinking would have us believe that with right thinking (and hard work, but some books you read don’t mention that part) we are equals. So,��when we perceive an inequality,��we may end up thinking, Hey, my book is better than so-and-so’s book, so why aren’t I published?��Or, I work just as hard as so-and-so, so how come I’m not getting great reviews?��Or, What am I doing wrong that I don’t have a book deal like so-and-so?

And we all know that the comparison game leads to suffering.

6. Sometimes I felt so disempowered that I’d give up for awhile. We humans tend to want to engage in activities we’re good at, so if we’re on a��positive-thought downward cycle, thinking that we suck,��why would we write at all?

7. Focussing on goal-setting and planning and future outcomes worsened my mood in general. Positive thinking tends to be future-oriented. But the secret to life, I’m finding, is mindfulness, which is about the present — the writing journey. Imagine my horror when I realized that I’d forgotten what the writing journey (which is a joy) felt like!

Note: I’m not saying the we shouldn’t set goals, just that pouring all our energy into visualizing and planning our perfect happy futures��can increase our suffering in the present, and also de-motivate us to actually work toward our goals.

8. Mantras such as “I am where I’m meant to be” and “everything happens for a reason” and “if such-and-such doesn’t happen it means something better is around the corner” increased my anxiety. These mantras are supposed to��provide solace, but I found myself clinging to them with ever more fearfulness. If they didn’t prove true, I’d be lost, I’d be unhappy, I’d have lived a life unfulfilled, I’d die with profound regrets. In other words, these mantras are BS, so get rid of them. They’re false prophets.

Do I have any answers for how to purge ourselves of the positive-thinking disease? Yes!��Start by reading this book, which inspired this post. I’m only on Chapter 3, and I’m feeling lighter��than I have in ages.��I have much work to do, but I hereby proclaim my liberation from the tyranny of positive thinking!

One line of many that I highlighted: “… that it is our constant efforts to eliminate the negative — insecurity, uncertainty, failure, or sadness — that is what causes us to feel so insecure, anxious, uncertain, or unhappy.”

Has anything I’ve written above struck a cord with you? What’s your take on the cult of positive thinking?

Tagged: depression, happiness, New Thought, Oliver Burkeman, positive thinking, Psychology, The Antidote, the writing life, writing