Mary Carroll Moore's Blog, page 7

Three Favorite Techniques to Foster Meandering

What’s new in my writing world: My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue, released in October, just won a Silver Medal in the 2024 Reader’s Favorite contest. It was also a finalist for the 18th National Indie Excellent Awards and the Ann Bannon Popular Choice Award. Happy about all this! My newest novel, Last Bets, is out now, and it was a bestseller on Amazon. “Readers will get lost in Moore's beautiful prose, her impeccable plotting, and her outstandingly relatable and multi-layered characters. Beautifully wrought story of two women artists outrunning their demons,” said Booklife/Publisher’s Weekly who made it an Editor’s Pick.

Photo by Nick Russill on Unsplash

I stare a lot in autumn. Living in New England, it’s a season of brilliance. Light so clear and bright, air cool and sun warm, brilliant colors everywhere. My favorite time to paint outside. My favorite time to meander.

I meander to avoid getting stuck. In my writing life, I get stuck when I try for directness. When I want to go from Point A to point B too obviously. I ignore nudges from the story that tell me a less direct way. I pass over subtleties. Unfortunately, it’s a lot like racing through our beautiful New England fall. I miss stuff. On the page, this often shows up as repeating whatever has worked in the past. Too boring for words.

The same roadblocks happen in my painting too—when my vision is too straight on, I don’t catch the subtle color relationships, the more interesting shapes and forms. Magic goes away.

Maybe why one of my art teachers always had us flip our paintings upside down? What comes to the eye then? Often new perspectives, more complex ones.

Not easy to avoid repeating. To skirt dullness or boredom with our creative work.

This week I wanted to share my three favorite techniques to foster the nonlinear, the meander. These are designed to wake up the part of you and me that is alert, alive, and adventuresome in our creative expression. It allows us to discover things that might surprise us.

Technique #1: Reading backwards

I learned about reading backwards from my mom.

My mom read voraciously all her life. In her later years, she decided to vet her books by reading the last few pages first. I thought this was scandalous when she first told me. She said she didn’t want to waste time on a story that didn’t have a good ending. And even if she read the ending, it didn’t seem to lessen her enjoyment.

One day, I was revising a very stuck story. I hated the opening. So I decided to try my mom’s technique.

I read the last page, then the page before it. Suddenly I saw what was missing from the opening. It was an amazing revelation and it totally fixed the problem that had me stuck. So now, I do it with all my writing at revision: I’ll scrap the logical and read my manuscript from the end: last chapter, then next to last, all the way to the first.

I also catch more errors and see those annoying places where I fell asleep or got bored and repeated.

Technique #2: The clustering map

I love to meander via a clustering map. It’s especially helpful when I’m still exploring directions for a piece of writing. Or when I’m stuck, again, on a scene that won’t come together.

If I’m exploring, I begin by writing a word or image in a circle in the center of a page and free-associate any image, word, or idea from that, making a cluster of new circles. Often this also leads to a new way in.

If I’m stuck, I will write one phrase describing the stuck place: John enters the bar, for instance. Then free-associate anything that might happen to John once he clears the doorway.

The goal in clustering is to not edit out any idea that comes. Everything is welcome—you never know when you’ll meander into something great.

Technique #3: Mosaic word games

A third favorite meander is a word game, where you draw a kind of mosaic on paper and enter words in each shape, then play with their connections to surprise your linear self.

You can do this electronically, of course, but something enters in when it’s done by hand, drawing or doodling on paper. I simply doodle a bunch of connected shapes—circles, rectangles, triangles, or any weird and wonderful shape that might resemble a piece of broken ceramic in a mosaic tile wall or tabletop. This doesn’t have to be fancy or make sense to anyone but you, and it’s terrific fun to let your hand wander as you draw. Good for the brain too!

Just make sure you create enough blank center in each piece to insert a word.

Then brainstorm a list of words that you associate with a current piece of writing, especially one where you’re stuck.

Here’s a rather embarrassing example from my first novel (oh-so-long-ago)! After I sold the manuscript to a publisher, my smart editor noticed that three scenes served the identical breakfast: blueberry pancakes. Never mind that the cast of characters was in a lake cabin for the summer where blueberry pancakes were the norm! My editor kindly asked me to be more original with two of the scenes.

But I loved those blueberry pancake breakfasts, and the request left me stumped for a few days. You laugh. But anything can stump a writer.

So I went for a meander with this third technique. I created my mosaic of shapes. I left the spaces blank. And I made a list of associated words or phrases that came to mind from writing this scene.

breakfast

jam

butter

honey

sunshine

rain

weak light

angry

radio

checkered cloth

blueberries

Dad

dogs

empty chair

I found myself writing words that weren’t exactly in the current scenes, which is a clue that my brain was now meandering and some good ideas might be emerging. I kept going until I had about twenty-five words, then I wrote one word or phrase into the blank space of each mosaic piece.

The last step is the most fun: once the words are in place in the squares, begin scanning for the ones that leap out. Then look at the word or phrase that leaps out to you, that catches your eye. Finally, look at the words in the shapes adjacent to it.

What stood out for me was the phrase “empty chair,” and its three adjacent words: “Dad,” “weak light,” and “angry.” I was intrigued. I began a ten-minute timed free write to explore how these were connected. What I came up with was an even bigger surprise.

A new scene emerged that defined the difficult relationship between the protagonist, Molly, and her talented, distant father. I realized something bad had to happen between them. I took that simple meander into an entirely new dimension in my revision: The father’s chair is empty because something bad has happened, and what might that be? It transformed the entire story.

Meander. It’s a completely different way in. And one I highly recommend.

Your Weekly Writing Exercise

This week, take yourself back to school: Try one of the techniques above. What did you learn?

What’s your favorite way to let your creative self meander?

Leave a comment

Shout Out!

A hearty shout out to these writing friends and former students who are publishing their books! I encourage you to pre-order a copy to show your support of fellow writers and our writing community.

(If you are a former student and will publish soon (pre-orders of your book are available now), or have in the past two months, email mary[at]marycarrollmoore[dot]com to be included in a future Shout Out! I’ll keep your listing here for two months.)

Jim Hight, Moon Over Humboldt (Black Rose Writing), August release

Darrell J. Pedersen, Who Will Carry the Fire? More Reflections from a North Woods Lake (River Place Press), August release

Jan Skogstrom, The Light Shines in the Darkness—A Spiritual Journey (Itasca Books), August release

Megan Lindhal Goodrich, Beyond Terminal: Processing Childhood Trauma to Reclaim Self (Wise Ink), September release

Elizabeth Jarrett Andrew, The Release: Creativity and Freedom after the Writing Is Done (Skinner House), October release

Morgan Baylog Finn, The Gathering: Poems (Finishing Line Press), November release

I’m a lifelong artist, and I love to inspire and support other creative folk, which is why I write this weekly newsletter. My goal with these posts is to help you strengthen your writing practice and creative life so it becomes more satisfying to you.

I’m also the author of 15 books in 3 genres. My third novel, Last Bets (Riverbed Press), was published in April, after becoming an Amazon bestseller during pre-orders. My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue (Riverbed Press), was published in October 2023 also and became an Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release from pre-orders. For twelve years, I worked as a full-time food journalist, most notably through my weekly column for the Los Angeles Times syndicate. My writing-craft book, Your Book Starts Here, won the New Hampshire Literary Awards “People’s Choice” in 2011 and my first novel, Qualities of Light, was nominated for PEN/Faulkner and Lambda Literary awards in 2009. I’ve written Your Weekly Writing Exercise every Friday since 2008.

What Do You Love Most about Your Writing? Learn How to Talk about It!

What’s new in my writing world: My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue, released in October, just won a Silver Medal in the 2024 Reader’s Favorite contest. It was also a finalist for the 18th National Indie Excellent Awards and the Ann Bannon Popular Choice Award. Happy about all this! My newest novel, Last Bets, is out now, and it was a bestseller on Amazon. “Readers will get lost in Moore's beautiful prose, her impeccable plotting, and her outstandingly relatable and multi-layered characters. Beautifully wrought story of two women artists outrunning their demons,” said Booklife/Publisher’s Weekly who made it an Editor’s Pick.

Photo by Mayur Gala on Unsplash

How do you talk about your writing project, whatever is currently occupying you creatively? A friend asks, What are you working on? or What’s your story/book about? If you’ve worked on the answer, you may tell the plot, the place, the message. But does your answer communicate your passion? The actual reason you are so wrapped up in it?

In May and June, and now again for a few shows in September, I’ve been learning a lot about this on a podcast tour. Each podcast tour I’ve done, with the help of my podcast guru, the goal has been to share more about my latest novel. Ostensibly, these past months have been about the most recent book, Last Bets, but most often—and this ties back into my question of passion and how to communicate it—hosts want to go wider than that. Some want to discuss all the stuff I’ve sent out into the world over the past few decades!

Someone once told me, books never die. And I’m learning that’s true.

Yes, my earlier novels, as well as my writing craft book published over twelve years ago, are still in print, still selling well. I still hear from readers who have read one or another and want to tell me about it.

So, suddenly, I have a “body of work” and I need to be ready to talk about it, even when promoting just one part of that body.

So this week, I’d like to talk about how we talk about our writing. How do we look beyond our current creation and its specific topics to a larger message we are communicating through all our creative work.

Why are you writing?

My writing starts as a story I want to tell, an idea I want to share. I don’t get too ethereal about it when it’s just new. I usually hook into a character or place, my fascination with a moral dilemma, some plotline I want to explore. It’s a time of exploration and questions. I don’t get into big stuff, not at the start.

It’s a bit of a trick, though. Because I don’t really write, in the larger sense, to just tell a story. I write to explore, for myself, a certain belief about life. Or the hope for something different in someone’s life (a character’s if not my own). Or some wisdom I’ve touched into and want to know more about.

We travel paths that repeatedly show up in our work, right? We don’t usually create in a vacuum outside of our deepest interests. Our writing elucidates those fascinations for us, first, and eventually our readers. But it’s not my particular way to know this when I am starting out. I walk blind. I try things and fail. I try other things and open a new door. It’s all experimental. I don’t set out with a theme or message, really. That evolves as I go deeper into the story.

It’s as if the story is the teacher.

Themes emerge if I pay attention. Certain repeating ideas or questions that I explore over and over again. But I am fairly unaware of this when I am drafting or revising a book or a story or an essay. It’s only later, when I reread it to find what the core of the piece is, that I locate the thread of theme.

If this is true for all of us, how do we learn to talk about our work with clarity and depth?

Often, it takes others telling you what they see in your work.

Using feedback to learn what you’re really writing about

A wise art teacher once pointed out something recurring in almost every painting I did during that time. I painted pathways. Through land, water, sky. Always a thread of a path or road. I was totally unconscious of this. “What do pathways mean to you?” she asked.

I’ve written about this before, but when I took her question home to contemplate, I realized I was painting hope. The continuation of life. A very real desire for me as a survivor of two serious cancers.

What do you write about, or paint or sing or dance about, over and over again? Are you aware of your life themes as they emerge in your stories or other art? I think most of us aren’t that conscious of this, but readers see it and podcast hosts, if they gift you with their attention, certainly do, as I’m discovering on my podcast tour. (I feel like I should send them thank-you notes for educating me to my own work!)

What themes do you love writing about?

Once I clicked in to the trend of podcast hosts asking these larger thematic questions, I gave myself some homework. I did an exercise where I wrote down one-liner answers to the question: What’s this story about?

I wrote at least ten for each of my books that hosts had asked about (for me, I was relieved this was just four, even though I’ve published more). Here are the best results of my ten scribbles for the two recent novels.

A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue, Two estranged sisters, both pilots, reunite when one of them is forced to run from the law but how will they shelter each other until they become real family?

Last Bets, An artist with second sight sees the future of the people she paints; she must decide if she will use it to save her own life.

There are clear thematic threads, even in these unedited responses to the exercise. I started with what repeats: Both stories are about women facing their demons, women who are badass and somehow become heroes. Then I looked at the possible themes in each. Both are about redemption, found family, women who transcend their ugly pasts to save another.

Wow, I thought. I actually didn’t realize these were my personal fascinations. My themes. But they are.

Body of work is not just what’s released into the world

We use the term “body of work” to showcase what’s been published or exhibited or released into the world in some way. But I find it’s fascinating to look at the body of work you’ve created—and begin to see the themes you’re repeating and exploring—as something beyond.

For instance, in childhood, what were you obsessed with? What did you love to read or watch or listen to? What meaning did it have for you? It’s a cool exercise to study what you’ve played with, explored, created in the past. It can be very revealing—and helpful to you now, if you want to learn how to talk more clearly about your book or story or creative work.

Not everyone likes to do this. Me included. If not for the podcast hosts pressuring me to dig deeper, I would stay with just what I’m working on now. Generally, I prefer letting go of what I’ve created after it’s done to my satisfaction. I don’t hang on to my early paintings, I don’t reread my novels or nonfiction books. After a time, I give them away. I paint over the canvasses that haven’t sold. I’m generally unsentimental about moving on. But I’m prolific and fast, just my nature. Maybe you create only a few precious expressions, so every one is as present now as it was years ago when you started it.

Whatever your approach, consider researching your fascinations to find the threads of love running through them. Love, meaning what gives you life. What makes you feel purposeful as an artist or writer. And not just as a writer but in other areas where you create with joy and energy. These are your larger body of work. And once you know more about that, you can speak to it.

Your Weekly Writing Exercise

This week I’m offering a free writing exercise that helps me get closer to what I most love about what I create. Practically, it also lets you find new and better ways to describe your work, should anyone want to know!

Set a timer or alarm on your phone for ten minutes. Write down everything you love about your book or your current writing project. Small stuff, big stuff. Doesn’t matter.

You might love one of the characters.

You might love a certain chapter, or the way the story opens or closes.

You might love the page design or cover.

You might love a bad guy or a difficult character you finally got vivid on the page.

You might love a tiny moment of transformation towards the end.

Write without editing or stopping—you’re trying to capture stream of consciousness thoughts and feelings here, not create great prose. Usually, when I do this, I feel kinda creaky at first, but as I write, more comes. It’s a generative exercise.

The best outcome is to be surprised by what you learn.

When you have a few or more items listed, choose one or two. Imagine a potential reader or interviewer asking you, What’s your favorite part of this book? or What are you most pleased with? (These are real questions I’ve been asked on interviews!) Take an item from your list and expand it, make it relevant to you, why you wrote the story and what it means to love this certain part.

If you’d like, go further into your body of work. Think back ten years, then twenty. What were you busy creating back then? How might it echo themes you’re still fascinated with now?

Leave a comment

Shout Out!

A hearty shout out to these writing friends and former students who are publishing their books! I encourage you to pre-order a copy to show your support of fellow writers and our writing community.

(If you are a former student and will publish soon (pre-orders of your book are available now), or have in the past two months, email mary[at]marycarrollmoore[dot]com to be included in a future Shout Out! I’ll keep your listing here for two months.)

Jim Hight, Moon Over Humboldt (Black Rose Writing), August release

Jan Skogstrom, The Light Shines in the Darkness—A Spiritual Journey (Itasca Books), August release

Megan Lindhal Goodrich, Beyond Terminal: Processing Childhood Trauma to Reclaim Self (Wise Ink), September release

Elizabeth Jarrett Andrew, The Release: Creativity and Freedom after the Writing Is Done (Skinner House), October release

I’m a lifelong artist, and I love to inspire and support other creative folk, which is why I write this weekly newsletter. My goal with these posts is to help you strengthen your writing practice and creative life so it becomes more satisfying to you.

I’m also the author of 15 books in 3 genres. My third novel, Last Bets (Riverbed Press), was published in April, after becoming an Amazon bestseller during pre-orders. My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue (Riverbed Press), was published in October 2023 also and became an Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release from pre-orders. For twelve years, I worked as a full-time food journalist, most notably through my weekly column for the Los Angeles Times syndicate. My writing-craft book, Your Book Starts Here, won the New Hampshire Literary Awards “People’s Choice” in 2011 and my first novel, Qualities of Light, was nominated for PEN/Faulkner and Lambda Literary awards in 2009. I’ve written Your Weekly Writing Exercise every Friday since 2008.

First Sunday Q&A: Learning to Trust Your Writing Community

“First Sunday” Q&A is where we dissect and discuss your most gnarly writing and publishing questions. I plan to write this the first Sunday of each month for you, as long as you wonderful people send me your questions. My intention is to make this a safe, generous place to exchange ideas and talk about the deepest writing and publishing issues on your mind. If you’re a free subscriber, you’ll get a taste of the article below. Upgrade to paid (only $45 a year) to read the rest and receive First Sunday each month. Your subscription also supports me continuing to write my free newsletter each Friday.

Photo by Helena Lopes on Unsplash

Q: I admit I’m a bit of a misfit and I’m sorry about it—sometimes. But my question for you is about my confused feelings about manifesting a nurturing creative community for myself. Maybe I don’t really appreciate the value of community in the arts and that’s the core problem? Past experience has mostly shown me that artists are super competitive by nature, often not that nice, because there is only so much to go around and there are a lot of us. Just look at how hard it is to get published today. But the bottom line is that writing is soooo lonely, and I am realizing that isolation doesn’t serve me.

Can you share any insights on how find an ideal community as a writer? But even more, how to trust that community and grow from it? What steps would you advise or have others taken to get over this leeriness? (Thank you. I love this newsletter, btw.)

A: Well, thanks for the kind words and for this honest question. I think many of us wonder about topics like competition and trust in the creative life, and I admire this writer for putting such strange and uncomfortable feelings into words.

Have you experienced that truly difficult place she’s talking about? I certainly have.

I think about this a lot, as a writer. Is it because we were trained (subtly or overtly) to be competitive in school? In school competition—in most competitions—some win, and many lose. I also think about the inclusive/exclusive, belong and not-belong, conundrum of those clubs and cliques we long to join and may not be able to. The cool group and the nerds, and all of those (me included) in between.

Where did we find a place to fit and feel good about ourselves? Who could we trust to accept us—and our creativity—exactly as it is?

I was listening to singer/songwriter Antje Duvoket this week. She has an older song, “Glamorous Girls,” which is about this very feeling and how, when we’re young, it hurts so much to be unaccepted, and how maybe we look back, years later, and realize we did ok to be on our own.

Do you have to be on your own?

But do you have to go it alone? I wonder. I think perhaps my personal creative spirit was given a boost by not fitting in, when I was young. My family definitely believed in me as a creative artist, but school was so far from a nurturing place for that. Misfit-hood was felt even more strongly in college, but I was never happier than in my art classes. A community that was full of people like me, everyone painted or wrote in isolation.

But were we really a community? Maybe we were just a holding place to learn skills and find our way. We certainly didn’t bond very often. It was accepted that your best work was done in silence, away from others.

It wasn’t until I found what I wanted to create, as I ventured out into the world with my creative expression—writing and art—that I felt a real need for community.

Gap between skill and taste

In the womb of creativity, when I was working alone, I competed mostly with myself—with my own skill levels. My process was whatever talent, skill, or ability I could muster, to translate my inner experiences and sense of the world to an outer canvas or page. Sometimes I got it, sometimes I didn’t, and I had to go back to hone those skills. My process at that level was judged by teachers and peers, but especially by me.

It was hard. Very common for artists or writers in training to feel they are far from their ideal, in terms of skill. (This classic video by Ira Glass on the gap between taste and ability is worth a re-watch.)

Learning is what we were here for, though. So we acknowledge the gap and try to lessen it with more learning.

Eventually, a product we create pleases us. Maybe it gets a teacher’s thumbs up or a peer’s. Maybe these small encouragements boost the next step: we take the risk of publication, sharing our writing with the world. That’s when we enter a new level of competition and the loneliness of no community gets even more pronounced.

I know that publication is the holy grail for most writers who are reaching for it. I’ve been there. I have to say, though, that once it’s achieved, once you have the agent and the contract, the story’s only just beginning. If you’re totally alone when that happens, if you don’t have your network of support, it’s much, much harder.

Why? Because even those who receive all the signs that the work is worthwhile aren’t convinced unless a community reflects it back. It takes hard work to venture out into the world with your creative efforts. It requires much effort to sustain the belief in self and keep going.

I believe—and it might just be me—that the solo creator, the one who stays in isolation, sees the other artist who wins an award or gets a movie deal and they feel more of a twinge. They may think, One less opportunity for me.

Stronger belief in self

Of course, this creates a vicious cycle: The fear these thoughts generate makes us less generous, less able to reach out and create a support network. Essentially, we back away from the very nurturing that could keep us going forward.

Since this has happened to me, and I learned the hard way about community, I think it’s helpful to do all we can to get a stronger belief in ourselves as creators before we risk publication or sharing our work. The stronger belief is hard to generate alone, though. You may be more able than I have been. But I’ve mostly found this via my carefully curated community.

With my community at my back, no matter the outer reflection by the world, I continue to believe not only in myself but in others. I cultivate generosity. I am able to sincerely wish others the best.

It was a long road to get there, though.

Reaching out

For two years, I was intrigued by a young writer in my MFA class. I was in my fifties when I went back to grad school for my MFA, and he was in his late twenties, perhaps. I watched how he moved through those two years of very hard work and tremendous output. When we both graduated, his debut already had both an agent and publisher, and not long after, the book got optioned for a movie.

My first reaction was predictable: I was jealous, and I wondered what made him special. Was it talent? There seemed to be something beyond talent that attracted such success.

I saw how easily he created a community around himself. Always with a group of people, always talking to teachers, unlike loner me. I imagined how comfortable he must have felt in his own skin at that young age to be so at ease with others. And he knew the value of community, not just for contacts and networking, although that is always a big part of such programs. He was generous at heart and he cared about other writers. This was evident in class.

How did someone create community? What benefits might it give me?

It’s never just about your work

I am not at ease in groups of people I don’t know, so it has always been hard for me to push forward and be recognized for myself, rather than my work. I want the recognition of my artistic work to be solely on the work’s merit.

In the real world of publishing today, in the hugely competitive art world, that is a sweet fantasy.

Read more

How Much of Your Plot Do You Need to Know Ahead of Time?

More news from my writing world: My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue, released in October, was favorably reviewed in Blueline, the literary journal dedicated to the spirit of the Adirondacks. It was also chosen for Literary Aviatrix book club as the feature for August, and became a finalist for both the 18th National Indie Excellent Awards and the Ann Bannon Popular Choice Award. I worked very hard on that book and I’m so glad it’s getting recognition. My newest novel, Last Bets, is out now, and it was a bestseller on Amazon. “Readers will get lost in Moore's beautiful prose, her impeccable plotting, and her outstandingly relatable and multi-layered characters. Beautifully wrought story of two women artists outrunning their demons,” said Booklife/Publisher’s Weekly who made it an Editor’s Pick.

Photo by dix sept on Unsplash

I get this question often when I’m being interviewed on podcasts. I got it from students. Everyone believes it’s the secret to actually making a book. I don’t. It’s about the plotter and pantser approaches to writing.

You’ve probably heard those terms, but if not: plotters want everything planned ahead. Pantsers write by the seat of their pants. They go with intuition from the get go. When I’m asked which one I lean towards, I say, “Both!”

Because I believe most creative people have both elements inside. The need to go with what feels right, and the desire to get organized. Each comes at different times in the book-writing process.

That timing depends on your wiring, your most natural approach to creating.

Plotters

Do you like to know your entire plot before you start writing? Does this give you a sense of stability and sureness with the creative process, so you are clear on your direction? If knowing exactly where you’re going, before you even start out, is super important to you, you may be a plotter.

I admire plotters. I have a yearning, sometimes, to know what’s ahead, but my greater interest when I’m creating is to follow my gut, to try new ideas, to let it emerge spontaneously. I find plotters often love systems, though, especially ones that promise clarity and certainly about how a book is actually built. They lean on the formulas when navigating the murkier areas of writing something new.

Nothing wrong with this!

There are disadvantages, though. I once had a student who was an engineer in real life—he designed manufacturing systems, so he was all about systems and how they are formed to create exactly what’s expected. No surprises was the goal. And he did beautifully, writing nonfiction about topics he loved.

But one day, he got the hankering to write fiction. He wanted to write a love story. And love stories, and much fiction, must contain surprises of some kind.

Why surprise matters

There’s a saying in the world of writing that the reader must anticipate yet still be surprised by where a story goes. Without that element of discovery (the surprise) the book becomes predictable. My student was unable to make a story that was not predictable.

He knew how to engineer predictability. A great gift in his profession. Death to his fiction writing.

I remember suggesting—and I’ve done this with dozens of students since—that he read and analyze the surprise in great novels. Start with the prize-winning ones, like the Pulitzers or Man Booker or National Book Award winners. What made these stories notable? Where did they go unexpected places?

So that’s the downside of the plotter approach: predictability, lack of surprises, no element of discovery for the writer so no discovery for the reader.

I’m pleased to remember now that this engineer learned a lot about the craft of surprises in fiction from his reading and study. He ended up not only writing a love story but falling in love himself. I thought that a beautiful outcome.

Spirit of exploration

You can enter a story anywhere that pulls you in. And that engagement often translates to the reader as a spirit of exploration.

Plotters who are successful in keeping the surprise element usually spend quite a bit of time thinking about their story and taking notes. The difference between engineering the plot and letting it arise organically is this. I’ve known plotters who are not comfortable beginning the writing process before they know the ending of the book, for instance, but they still work in this sprit of exploration.

One of my students kept notes of his plot as it emerged from his daily walks and mulling-over time. He allowed himself a full year to think deeply about the story and each day a new idea would come to him, which he noted on index cards.

Then, like playing a great game, he’d lay the cards on a big table or the floor and begin to sort them into a flow. This is very similar to the storyboard approach I teach in this You Tube tutorial.

There are many ways to flow a series of plot points, and this is where the writer can find surprises and where plotter merges into pantser. Organization is still present but there’s a more organic approach to putting it all together.

It’s very much like the pauses I might make when I get to an unknown point in a specific scene I’m writing. I take a break to imagine it first, fully, inside my creative self. Then I go to my storyboard to plot it out, to test how it fits, before I write it.

Or you can pants it

Every few years, I like to rearrange our rooms. We may get something new, which requires finding a home, or we get rid of a piece of worn-out furniture. The configuration is open to change.

My method is probably unique and makes no sense to anyone else, but here’s how I do it: I stand and stare for a while, I get nudges of what changes might work, but until I actually do it, I can’t tell. My spouse has gotten used to leaving me along, except when I need help shoving furniture around. I need that inner time to “see” the new options in my mind then try them out.

Many times, the idea works. When it doesn’t, no worries. I just stand and stare some more and try another idea. That’s pure pantsing.

It’d drive many people crazy. I garden that way too. I had a friend who drew detailed maps of her garden and researched every aspect before she planted. I go outside and do it. I rotate the vegetable beds each year, a sound gardening practice that defeats bugs (most times), but that’s the only planning I do ahead.

With my writing, I have an idea. I sit down and try it out by writing a scene. It’s an experiment, a testing of what inside and whether it has sufficient life to generate more ideas.

Everything for a pantser is an experiment. Nothing is impossible. It all comes as you write.

Downside? A mess, of course. Redos. The extra time they take. I’ve met many pantsers in my writing classes who bring in 300-500 pages of manuscript that is all over the place. I honor their pantsing ability and show them how to storyboard.

I tell you, the relief they experience is life-changing. As it was for me.

We are all both—maybe plantsers?

Most writers I’ve worked with—and myself included—find something worthwhile in both approaches. I’ll never be the writer who details every step of their novel on cards or in an outline before sitting down to write a scene. I’ll never write a book without some system of organization either.

Rather than responding on podcast interviews that I’m a pantser or a plotter, I just say I’m both. I’ve been writing and publishing for over three decades and I’ve learned the pros and cons of each approach.

Your Weekly Writing Exercise

Check out this fun article from The Write Practice, which says more about plotter versus pantser and also shares a name for those in between. Or this from Medium, which gives another view.

Which are you? What advantages and disadvantages do you notice about your writing style?

Leave a comment

Shout Out!

A hearty shout out to these writing friends and former students who are publishing their books! I encourage you to pre-order a copy to show your support of fellow writers and our writing community.

(If you are a former student and will publish soon (pre-orders of your book are available now), or have in the past two months, email mary[at]marycarrollmoore[dot]com to be included in a future Shout Out! I’ll keep your listing here for two months.)

Jim Hight, Moon Over Humboldt (Black Rose Writing), August release

Jan Skogstrom, The Light Shines in the Darkness—A Spiritual Journey (Itasca Books), August release

Megan Lindhal Goodrich, Beyond Terminal: Processing Childhood Trauma to Reclaim Self (Wise Ink), September release

Elizabeth Jarrett Andrew, The Release: Creativity and Freedom after the Writing Is Done (Skinner House), October release

I’m a lifelong artist, and I love to inspire and support other creative folk, which is why I write this weekly newsletter. My goal with these posts is to help you strengthen your writing practice and creative life so it becomes more satisfying to you.

I’m also the author of 15 books in 3 genres. My third novel, Last Bets (Riverbed Press), was published in April, after becoming an Amazon bestseller during pre-orders. My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue (Riverbed Press), was published in October 2023 also and became an Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release from pre-orders. For twelve years, I worked as a full-time food journalist, most notably through my weekly column for the Los Angeles Times syndicate. My writing-craft book, Your Book Starts Here, won the New Hampshire Literary Awards “People’s Choice” in 2011 and my first novel, Qualities of Light, was nominated for PEN/Faulkner and Lambda Literary awards in 2009. I’ve written Your Weekly Writing Exercise every Friday since 200

Design the Perfect Writing Space (for You)

More news from my writing world: My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue, released in October, was favorably reviewed in Blueline, the literary journal dedicated to the spirit of the Adirondacks. It was also chosen for Literary Aviatrix book club as the feature for August, and became a finalist for both the 18th National Indie Excellent Awards and the Ann Bannon Popular Choice Award. I worked very hard on that book and I’m so glad it’s getting recognition. My newest novel, Last Bets, is out now, and it was a bestseller on Amazon. “Readers will get lost in Moore's beautiful prose, her impeccable plotting, and her outstandingly relatable and multi-layered characters. Beautifully wrought story of two women artists outrunning their demons,” said Booklife/Publisher’s Weekly who made it an Editor’s Pick.

Photo by Jakub Żerdzicki on Unsplash

Sometimes summer gives me the chance for a redo. Especially to my creative spaces. Summer is languid—ideally—and that relaxed feeling allows perspective. I can step back, I can see what’s working and what’s not. When I’m not overscheduled, that is. And this summer, surprisingly, has been such a time.

Maybe it’s timing. I completed a life goal of getting my novels released and out in the world, and that push ended in June. Then we had a span of weeks of intense heat followed by hurricane-effect rains. The garden, which occupied me post-books, was a swamp. A perfect excuse to stay indoors and stay cool.

I decided to redesign both my writing room and my painting studio. Creating those two books this past year pushed my spaces to their limits. And I hadn’t been doing enough painting. So I wanted to look at why.

What was missing, what could each space support, and what systems needed an upgrade.

Systems geek

If you read any of my systems posts this past month (on writing spaces, storage systems, and practice versus perfect), you know I’m rather geeky about the organization of things that help me create. The big ah-ha! I had this past month of redo was this: my systems for writing and painting are completely different! And the spaces must be too.

I thought I could create a working system for my writing life and transpose it on my painting life. Since I’ve never been able to choose just one kind of art, I grew up doing both. I never felt that one dominated the other, but I have spent more time developing the “how” of a consistent writing life because the written word has been my profession for two plus decades. It’s what brings in the money, so it’s become the most important creative outlet.

But art matters to me. It works with a completely different part of my brain and spiritual health. I have to do art, play with color and texture, to stay happy.

And my art’s done OK, even as a sideline: I’ve exhibited my art in galleries and university collections and private homes; my paintings have sold pretty well over the years. As I’ve written about before, painting and writing toggle back and forth in my life—one feeding the other. When I am stuck on a story, I paint. When the painting feels flat, I come back to the keyboard.

But it was a mistake to try to impose the working writer’s system on the painter’s life. Or try to do both in the same space.

Do you toggle between different art forms? How do those spaces mix in your life?

Leave a comment

The spaces where I write and where I paint are so different—or so I learned this month. Each has its unique needs.

What I tried first

When we first moved here fifteen years ago, we found a lofted studio to rent in a mill building in our small town. The building is a community of artist studios. Although the rented studio is barely a 10 minute drive away, I love being home. Covid only accentuated that. When I retired from full-time teaching those 18 months ago, I had the brilliant idea of using part of my writing space at home for painting.

Why not mix the two? I thought. Let go of the rented studio, do it all in my writing space.

My writing space at home is small but bright; it sits at the back of our house and was once a woodshed when the house was built in 1765. So I loaded the car with an extra easel, painting supplies, lights and paints, and set up in half the writing space.

My writing practice continued without a hitch. I write to hear myself. To know what I think. I live in my stories, my characters. I enter their minds and hearts. My books were revised, sent to my agent, sent to my new editor, produced, released into the world. I wrote and submitted short stories.

When we traveled, I took along paints and made art. In a travel sketchbook or collage, I could combine words and pictures. But I never touched the at-home art gear. Barely once or twice in 18 months.

I’d plan time, I’d enter the writing space, I’d stand in front of the easel. I would try to paint. I had plenty of starts (studies) to work on. Nothing. It grew intensely frustrating—what was wrong (with the pictures I couldn’t make)?

I blamed it at first on the nonstop attention my two launching novels demanded. But I had the time. And I wanted desperately to paint. It’s like a long slow walk, to me. It gives my brain and body a rest and rejuvenation I don’t get from word work. Images, colors, textures all relax my eye. I paint to stay sane, stay healthy.

Why couldn’t I paint where I did my writing? Why didn’t the mix of arts in a single space work?

I’m still bewildered by this, but after more than a year of not painting at all, even when I had time and opportunity, I accepted that I wasn’t going to paint in my writing space. Maybe the two art forms are unique in their needs, so the spaces need to be different as well. I could write in my writing room. I could journal and sketch in my journal. But I couldn’t paint. I needed dedicated space for each pursuit.

Have any of you faced this conundrum with your multiple art avenues?

Leave a comment

Dedicated spaces for each art

I was almost ashamed to fail this brilliant idea. Especially since I had no idea why. But this month, I packed the car again with my painting gear and easel and drove it all back to the downtown space.

The mill building, like in many New England communities, was once the center of textile industry for the area. It sits along the river. Like I said, it’s about 10 minutes from my house, so very convenient; it’s just a fight to keep clean. You’d think the interior is either charming or disgusting, depending on your aesthetics, but despite the typical problems of an ancient building, the windows are huge and levered and let in the late afternoon sun in beautiful streams. A previous tenant painted the interior walls a creamy white, but only twelve feet up, as far as a ladder reached. Between our two studios is a brick archway; overhead is a storage loft.

As I unpacked my gear, I noticed the difference in the two spaces—my writing space at home and the art studio here at the mill.

The writing space is small and confined. It feels like a nest. A place to incubate ideas. I don’t need a view, although I have a nice one. I don’t need a lot of light, although I have that too. I don’t actually need a desk anymore, since I write on my laptop.

The painting studio has taller-than-tall ceiling, high windows, and five times the space. I can stand back ten feet from my easel and study a work from a distance. The floor is concrete with an old rug over it. The walls are white and speckled with marks from shows we’ve hung. I have a 3-foot-by-5-foot butcherblock table that wouldn’t even make it in the door of my writing space at home. All my paints and supplies are spread out, messy as I want.

There’s no containment, no coziness, no sense of incubation here. It’s all about flinging color and striding around to look at what I’ve made.

Organic purpose

What if each creative space in your life has an organic purpose? When you are writing in a work space, it serves both your work and your writing—and sometimes this is a good fit. But if one suffers a little, if your writing doesn’t completely get off the ground, perhaps the space is no longer serving its organic purpose. Perhaps that purpose has shifted.

As often happens when I ask the right questions, more ideas came. I decided to try to describe the organic purpose of each of the two spaces, as best I could. What did each space naturally offer? What changes did it need to offer that more clearly?

Once I saw this, I could deliberately pursue it. I could make conscious changes.

I had to assume, if you will, that each space was waiting to offer me something to enhance my creative life, if only I could figure it out.

The purpose lists exercise below was a lightbulb moment.

Changing my writing room

My writing space had been my work space, my office, for twelve years. I still had my desk, files, and large desktop computer there. But I rarely used those for my writing. So when I began my purpose list for my writing space, I was not entirely surprised at what came out.

I need to feel like I’m not at work. I want to feel like I’m able to play, explore, try new things.

I must feel private, contained, and reclusive with my own thoughts to do this.

Sound privacy is important. Not hearing other people. Or music, unless I want.

I want less visual distraction. A wall shelf of books, a character collage beside it, a small collection of favorite things. Not much else. Clutter free.

I really want to be able to take a nap when I feel like it.

I want my dogs to be with me and they need comfortable rugs or places to lie down.

I want to work on my laptop. I don’t want a desk or reminders of past work.

I need adequate lighting but soft and cozy.

Good temperature control. Fresh air. Not much of a view is fine.

The first thing I did was paint the space. Fifteen years refreshed by a gallon of cream paint. Then I moved out my desk and work files, stored my desktop iMac, and left only a comfortable armchair, a good rug, and two tables.

I asked a friend to hang wall shelves for me. All my writing books fit on them, my story files in baskets alongside.

I hung two paintings. Nothing else on the walls.

My best inspiration was to move an unused daybed from another room. It fit perfectly in the far corner of the writing space. I covered it with fabric I loved and piled on pillows. My dogs took to it immediately. Naps await!

Because the room is so distant from the rest of the house (as woodsheds usually are), I can write for hours without disturbance.

I got such inspiration from these changes that I drove down to the painting studio to see what I could do there.

Changing my art studio

The purpose list exercise was equally useful for my painting studio. And I was astonished at how different the space needs were. No wonder I couldn’t easily mix the two in one place.

Here’s my painting studio purpose list:

I need lots of room! Enough space to back up, view the easels from a distance. Ideally, I want both easels up and functional.

I want a huge tabletop to spread out my paints, see everything I have to work with.

Good lighting is a must. Lots of natural light, especially.

Not picky about sound privacy, though: I paint outside and I’m used to noise.

Another must is good ventilation and air filtration, since paints have toxicity. My soft pastels are dusty creatures.

I appreciate plenty of visual stimuli, objects that trigger ideas, color and textures can go wild.

I need plenty of wall space to hang my painting starts, to study between sessions.

Like a key turning in a lock, the changes I made in each space brought more ideas for improvement.

My gear was all there, waiting. First, I set up the two easels next to the huge windows. I hung sheer coppery rayon drapes on the windows, to give a little privacy but keep the strong light.

The butcherblock tabletop fit perfectly on a sturdy, unused workbench next to the easels. All of my paints can be spread out and I have room for more.

My friend hung shelves here too—for storage. The entry wall now has a variety of old bookshelves that display all the favorite items I’ve collected over the years, objects that inspire my eye with color, texture, and interesting shape. My friend also created a canopy (a grass beach mat framed by 2x4’s) that hangs over my pastels to keep debris from the high ceiling drifting down.

I placed an old oval dining table from my aunt in the center of the space for other projects. Or to spread out collage material. Or try watercolors or mixed media.

There’s a couch in the main room of the shared space; the dogs love it.

My artist air filtration system is hooked into my easel to catch the dust. I may set up a spare computer to watch art videos.

The difference the right space makes

Each space draws me in fully to its purpose, now that that purpose is clear. I spend a few hours each day at the art studio—and I’ve begun work on two paintings. I lose myself in the dreamy act of working with color, such a gift to my art-starved self.

When I’m home, I wander back to my writing space and climb up on the daybed. Soon the dogs join me. I open my laptop and begin to write.

Your Weekly Writing Exercise

If you’d like to bring more purpose to your writing space—or any creative space—think about the purpose you imagine it bringing to your life. Try the purpose list described above. What is in place? What is missing?

Share your thoughts!

Leave a comment

Shout Out!

A hearty shout out to these writing friends and former students who are publishing their books! I encourage you to pre-order a copy to show your support of fellow writers and our writing community.

(If you are a former student and will publish soon (pre-orders of your book are available now), or have in the past two months, email mary[at]marycarrollmoore[dot]com to be included in a future Shout Out! I’ll keep your listing here for two months.)

Steve Hoffman, A Season for That: Lost and Found in the Other Southern France (Crown), July release

Jim Hight, Moon Over Humboldt (Black Rose Writing), August release

Jan Skogstrom, The Light Shines in the Darkness—A Spiritual Journey (Itasca Books), August release

I’m a lifelong artist, and I love to inspire and support other creative folk, which is why I write this weekly newsletter. My goal with these posts is to help you strengthen your writing practice and creative life so it becomes more satisfying to you.

I’m also the author of 15 books in 3 genres. My third novel, Last Bets (Riverbed Press), was published in April, after becoming an Amazon bestseller during pre-orders. My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue (Riverbed Press), was published in October 2023 also and became an Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release from pre-orders. For twelve years, I worked as a full-time food journalist, most notably through my weekly column for the Los Angeles Times syndicate. My writing-craft book, Your Book Starts Here, won the New Hampshire Literary Awards “People’s Choice” in 2011 and my first novel, Qualities of Light, was nominated for PEN/Faulkner and Lambda Literary awards in 2009. I’ve written Your Weekly Writing Exercise every Friday since 2008.

How to Plan Your Book Launch Event

What’s new in my writing world: I’m taking a break from my podcast tour and enjoying a lot of nothing this month! My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue, released in October, just became a finalist for the 18th National Indie Excellent Awards! A big deal. It’s also a finalist for the Golden Crown Literary Society’s Ann Bannon Popular Choice Award. I worked very hard on that book and I’m so glad it’s getting recognition. My newest novel, Last Bets, is out now, and it was a bestseller on Amazon. “Readers will get lost in Moore's beautiful prose, her impeccable plotting, and her outstandingly relatable and multi-layered characters. Beautifully wrought story of two women artists outrunning their demons,” said Booklife/Publisher’s Weekly who made it an Editor’s Pick.

Photo by Jaredd Craig on Unsplash

A favorite exercise in my writing classes was this: imagine your book has been published, then plan the celebration party for it. Even beginning writers got into the fun. Planning a party to celebrate this milestone is actually a great way to make it come true, or so I’ve learned. Not so distant from an athlete visualizing the finish line.

This week I want to share what I’ve learned about launch events. When they are meaningful to you, not just a place to make more sales, the glow carries you for a long while.

A former student gave me the idea of writing this post: Jan is releasing her first book in a few weeks with a party she’s designed. But she also sent good questions—was there anything else I could recommend to make her launch event even more special?

I’ve attended and hosted many book launches. Some sponsored by my publisher. Some at huge bookstores with a standing-room-only crowd. Some smaller and intimate, put on by my writing friends. Each was as different as the books they celebrated. The ones that felt most satisfying to me, even years later, were designed inwardly way in advance.

How do you bring your baby into the world in the best way? What might you include in your launch party plans? What does such an event cost and how far in advance do you need to start thinking about it?

But most of all: What will make it worth your time, money, expense? Because, like any great party, there will be all three.

What appeals?

Launch parties are individual—to you and your book’s journey. What appeals to another author may not ring any bells for you. I was glad to have the big bash at Barnes & Noble that year, the posters with my face and book title at their front doors, the long line of people wanting a book signed. It was a sort of confirmation that I’d arrived as a author. But when I think back, much more meaningful to me were the launches where I got to talk with friends, see old writing buddies, and have a literary conversation. I didn’t sell as many books at those events, but I felt immensely more satisfaction.

Having done (and been to) so many, I know what’s most meaningful to me in people, place, music, discussion, selling books, food, testimonials, or Q&A, But it’ll be different for you.

So, in my classes, when I’d ask writers to visualize their ideal launch party, we first ponder the purpose of the celebration.

Is it to gather and acknowledge everyone who helped you get to this place (writer’s group, agent, editor, writing friends, family)?

Is it to spread the word about your new book?

Is it to mostly sell books?

Is it to get noticed on the media or socials, to spread your “fame,” so to speak?

Is it to just enjoy yourself, with a great party you’ll remember for years?

Use a presume

I’ve written before about the presume (future resume), learned many years ago in Get It All Done and Still Be Human by Tony and Robbie Fanning. This exercise is an easy way to visualize a future event—but best of all, I find it gets to the core of what’s most meaningful about that event, even before it happens.

Here are the steps I use:

Imagine yourself an hour or a day after your launch event is over. Imagine the feeling of satisfaction and joy you experienced as your baby was released into the world with great celebration.

Writing from that future moment in time, as if you are looking back on the event, describe this feeling. Such as, “I’m so thrilled with how the launch went. What meant the most to me was . . .”

Be prepared to maybe be surprised at what comes. Your goal with this exercise is to discover what would really do it for you, inside and out. It might be that someone very special from your past was able to attend. It might be the beautiful place you held the party. It might be the interesting literary dialogues or questions from your audience.

From the presume, make a list of your top qualities. What does mean the most to you, concerning this event?

Best timing

Many writers believe that launch events are just about selling more books. That the buzz is greatest just when the book comes out.

Pre-orders have changed that landscape, in my view. I have had fewer sales on site because my most eager readers already ordered their books online. Because of this, the timing of the event means more about acknowledging the milestone moment in my creative life than on-site sales. I make sure books are available, though, since my readers also buy signed copies for friends. Or get themselves a signed copy to keep and give the pre-ordered book away. All good!

So I usually pick a launch party date within a few weeks of my book’s actual release date, because if I decide to advertise the event to the public, the “new release” cachet does attract attention. But I am also careful to have books in hand well before that date. A scary moment when my third novel was published came when the bookstore was unable to order copies: printing was delayed by a week. I wasn’t sure we’d have any books to sell, but it all worked out last minute. I prefer to avoid that kind of stress!

Plan in advance

Planning early also avoids stress. Start early for these basic reasons: availability of venue, advertising, save-the-date notices for your overbooked friends and family, as well as books on hand to sell.

I begin planning about nine months ahead of my release date. Like my students discovered, it’s fun. It creates a real moment in the future when the long-dreamed-of book will actually be real. More time also allows more brainstorming and ideas. I take time to make notes about what I really want, ask writing friends, attend other authors’ events. Gradually, the “feeling” of my event comes forward, and I can focus on the specifics.

Questions to ask

Depending on how complex your party, here are questions to ask:

Is the event virtual or in-person?

Is it open to the public or just for a smaller circle of people you know?

How will you announce it (via email, text, printed invites, social media)? If open to the public, will you try to get media to attend or preview the event?

If in-person, what venue best suits your book? Huge auditorium? Small meeting room? Bookstore? Writing school? Concert hall? Church? Bowling alley? Coffee shop or restaurant? If virtual, do you have an unlimited account with Zoom or Google Meet or other platform?

Who will help with the event? Virtual events need a gatekeeper and helper in the chat, I’ve learned. In-person events need a bookseller, food helpers, and more.

What format appeals to you? Just a reading? Or some interaction with other writers, such as a conversation? Will you give the audience a chance to ask questions (I’ve found the Q&A section of events to be the best!)? Will you have a friend read aloud the best reviews for the book? Will there be other kinds of acknowledgements?

If in-person, will you have food? Just drinks? Finger food? A sit-down meal? A cake? Will it be potluck or catered?

If in-person, what about decorations? For the release of my novel about women pilots, there were tin signs about flying, paper cranes made by a friend, and pilot-themed paper plates and cups (from a kids’ party store). A poster of the book cover? Balloons?

How will you thank those who helped you get here? Will you make a speech? Will you ask them to stand up or stand out to be acknowledged? Will you gift them with signed copies of your book?

Photographs? Such a wonderful memory, worth asking a skilled friend or hiring someone.

What will you wear? (This comes later in the planning, but it’s important.) Do you need time to plan, prepare, primp? If in-person, is there a green room where you can get dressed, especially if the weather is bad?

Music? Is there any music/soundtrack associated with your book that you want to highlight? For my novel about women pilots, a friend wrote a song based on lyrics from the story and my former band performed it at the launch—I stepped in for a cameo, which was scary and fun.

What have you enjoyed at book release events? What do you imagine for yours?

Leave a comment

Make it meaningful—to you!

My publishers usually launched at bookstores. I enjoyed the thrill of that, as I mentioned above, but they weren’t as personal and meaningful as I wished. After several of these bookstore events, I began to choose venues that brought in a literary flavor.

I approached two writing schools where I taught classes: the Hudson Valley Writers Center in New York and the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis. Both were happy to offer space (sometimes for a fee, sometimes for free). They announced to their community and I enjoyed the gathering of other writers. I planned my launch to focus on the writing aspect of this milestone.

That led me to go beyond the traditional author reading (a short excerpt from the book, timed to about 5 minutes, and practiced) and try being in-conversation with another published author. These were wonderful experiences for me—and such fun for the audience too. Conversations are lively. Especially when followed by an audience Q&A.

I duplicated this format on my virtual launches as well (I held both in-person and virtual for recent releases, and both were very well attended).

I also wanted food at my in-person release party. I went out on a limb and contacted a dozen of my former students, asking if they’d be willing to bring a dessert or appetizer in exchange for a free signed copy of my novel. Everyone said yes! One even volunteered to coordinate the food and decorations.

Another friend was my photographer. Still others provided live music. It was quite the party.

A possible flow for the event

Here’s the flow I ended up with, for my most recent in-person book launch event. Minus the food and music, I used the same flow for the virtual versions. It worked very well. Take whatever makes sense as you plan yours!

About a half hour before the event started, people began arriving. I got to mingle, say hello. Music began and some food was offered at the in-person event.

The event began, and my in-conversation person welcomed everyone. She read a brief bio of my writing background and shared her impression of my book.

We began our conversation. She’d sent me her questions ahead of time so I could prepare notes.

Peppered throughout our conversation were small readings from my book, which I did instead of a single, longer reading. I found it worked a lot better!

We also paused for an audience Q&A. Such unexpected and great questions that stretched me, but I learned so much and enjoyed it.

We finished with a final short reading then let people know books were for sale and I’d be signing them. The music continued for another half-hour and desserts were set out!

The whole event lasted about two hours, whether in-person or virtual. I hosted two in the afternoon on a weekend and two on weekday evenings. All were very well attended.

Breaking the mold

Many writers, especially those backed by a publisher’s publicity team, feel like there’s only one or two ways to launch books. I stayed in this mold for years, but I often found something was missing. The party.

If you imagine your book launch as more personal, try the ideas above. No limitations!

Your Weekly Writing Exercise

Try the presume, above, to imagine your book release party. Give yourself time to consider any and all ideas. What might be the most meaningful to you, years from now, when you remember this milestone event?

If you’re ready to get specific, go through the list of questions and see what comes.

Share your thoughts!

And if you’d like to check out some new releases, scroll down to Shout Out! Jan’s book is there—a thank you to her for inspiring the post this week.

Leave a comment

Shout Out!

A hearty shout out to these writing friends and former students who are publishing their books! I encourage you to pre-order a copy to show your support of fellow writers and our writing community.

(If you are a former student and will publish soon (pre-orders of your book are available now), or have in the past two months, email mary[at]marycarrollmoore[dot]com to be included in a future Shout Out! I’ll keep your listing here for two months.)

Steve Hoffman, A Season for That: Lost and Found in the Other Southern France (Crown), July release

Jim Hight, Moon Over Humboldt (Black Rose Writing), August release

Jan Skogstrom, The Light Shines in the Darkness—A Spiritual Journey (Itasca Books), August release

I’m a lifelong artist, and I love to inspire and support other creative folk, which is why I write this weekly newsletter. My goal with these posts is to help you strengthen your writing practice and creative life so it becomes more satisfying to you.

I’m also the author of 15 books in 3 genres. My third novel, Last Bets (Riverbed Press), was published in April, after becoming an Amazon bestseller during pre-orders. My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue (Riverbed Press), was published in October 2023 also and became an Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release from pre-orders. For twelve years, I worked as a full-time food journalist, most notably through my weekly column for the Los Angeles Times syndicate. My writing-craft book, Your Book Starts Here, won the New Hampshire Literary Awards “People’s Choice” in 2011 and my first novel, Qualities of Light, was nominated for PEN/Faulkner and Lambda Literary awards in 2009. I’ve written Your Weekly Writing Exercise every Friday since 2008.

Raising the Stakes: How to Amp Up Your Story's External Conflict

News from my writing room: I had a new short story accepted this week—yay! It’s called “Downstream” and will be published by the Appalachian Review (University of North Carolina Press). I’m in the midst of an art studio redo (such fun! photos to come!) which is inspiring my writing as well. My First Sunday newsletter became a Substack bestseller this year—thanks to everyone of you who is subscribed! (Although it’s only once a month right now, subscribers ($45 a year or $5 a month) also get access to my 700+ archived newsletters) and, of course, my writerly gratitude for helping me continue to write this free Friday newsletter.

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Photo by Nikola Johnny Mirkovic on Unsplash

Hot weather! We’re having such intense heat waves this summer, a week or more of high 90s F and humidity that reminds me more of Baltimore summers growing up than the Northeastern climate I’m used to. And when you live in an older house (ours built in 1765) with not quite enough air conditioning, you curate your days. Heat makes me generally more crabby. I work hard at not letting this external conflict get the best of my personality. So I wake early and spend an hour outside in the garden or walking our country road, maybe a little time on the screened porch eating breakfast. Then it’s time to close up the house for the day and send good vibes to our air conditioner to keep us civil until evening.

If this summer in our house were an action movie, heat would be the focus. And as a writer, I know that increasing the heat for anything makes for some kind of reaction. That’s what we’re looking for in our stories, isn’t it? Something a bit past comfort level, something that will provide external conflict.

Crabby because of the heat = perfect blend on external and internal conflict. The heat brings out my worst side. The two together formula a story.

One by itself isn’t enough, I’ve learned. What do each contribute, and how do they play off one another?

Two kinds of conflict

Although it’s simplistic and rift with overlap, I define internal conflict as whatever arises inside the character, forcing them to choose a direction, make a decision, do something rash.

It’s not what’s happening out here, onstage. It’s coming from within.

External conflict is outside the character, something happening in the outer environment that affects them. It can cause them to make a decision, take an action, run or fight, of course. And external conflict can also amplify what’s going on inside—if well planned in story, external conflict echoes the still-festering internal wound.

I find writers—myself included—lean in strength towards one over the other. Why? Because of our natural preferences, what we love to read or enjoy in life, where we feel our edge of interest lies.

The goal, when writing a completely balanced story, is to recognize and develop whatever area of conflict we’re missing.

If you tend to write more external conflict, you may need to rebalance with intentional internal strife. And if, like me, you are most at home with what goes on inside the character, you need to learn how to create an action-filled plot.

Learning from thrillers

This was hammered home when I was revising my second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue. I was working with an agent who loved my premise but told me I lacked outer action. Not enough happening out here.

She had a great suggestion: find a thriller writer to mentor me.

I was hesitant at first, although I love reading thrillers. (I am the proud owner of used copies of every one of British author Peter O’Donnell’s ten or so novels about the badass combat heroine Modesty Blaise, written in the 60s and reread by me whenever I want a real escape.) I also love badass female heroes, as you can see from this short piece I wrote for Shepherd.com about my five favorite badass women heroes in novels.

But I was reluctant to change my strength—the internal side of conflict—into something that wasn’t me.

I began to ask around and a writing buddy recommended instructor and crime author Robert Eversz. Robert teaches at the UCLA writing program and consults on manuscripts. His five thrillers feature the legendary Nina Zero, quite the badass heroine. I decided to give it a try.

Robert also liked my opening—but he made the excellent point that the succeeding chapters carried too much slack. I could definitely bring in more external action, and the question was what kind of action it might be.

He suggested a crime. I hadn’t considered this, but it made sense that one of the two pilot sisters in A Woman’s Guide is a fugitive from the law. At first, I played with her as criminal, but that didn’t fit who she was for me. So I settled on a crime she didn’t commit, and the real criminal trying to find her.

Triggering event

In stories with strong external conflict, we open with a crisis which I call a “triggering event.” Imagine a trigger being pulled and how that action sets up a certain effect. Like dominoes falling throughout the rest of the story, the opening leads to more crises until a major turning point is reached near the end.

Because the trigger is pulled, the rest of the story happens. My question when brainstorming a triggering event goes something like this: If this event doesn’t happen, the rest of the story can’t happen either. The cause and effect must be strong.

Just look look at any story—memoir or fiction—that grips you immediately, as a reader. I bet it has a triggering event in the opening pages. The goal, as a reader, is to convey a sense of tension immediately. Maybe a body or a missing object is lost or found. Maybe a murder or theft is committed. There’s a pending move, a sudden break up, someone gets notice at their job, a person goes missing. Even the start of a road trip can feel risky, if played right.

How much risk?

A good measure of external conflict is the level of risk of this opening moment. The higher the risk, the more tension it creates. That tension drives the rest of the story.

Both my main female characters were pilots. It seemed logical to play with the idea of plane crash. To ramp it up, have the fugitive sister steal the plane because she’s running from that crime she didn’t commit. And where might she run?

Again, if I looked at ramping up the external conflict, the destination would have to hold high risk too. What if she had only one place she could run to, where she’d never be found—her estranged sister’s home in the remote mountains of New York state?

Estrangement means very little chance of open-armed welcome, right?

Five questions to develop external conflict

Each time I decided an event, an outer action, I had to make sure it led to something bigger, riskier, harder for my character. This acceleration would keep the tension riding high. It would keep readers turning pages.

I developed five questions for each moment of crisis, to make sure more conflict came from it.

What’s the worst thing that could happen here?

How does this increase the risk?

What smaller actions or turning points would need to be planted to “earn” this moment?

What history might cause this worst thing to happen?

How does this moment change the character?

If I could answer all five questions satisfactorily, I knew the choice of an external conflict worked.

Sequencing

To make sense to a reader, external conflict must be sequenced in a believable way. This happens because of that.

For my books, I find it helpful to lay out the sequence of plot points I’m considering as moments of external conflict. I use a storyboard (this is my tutorial on You Tube). But you can just list the plot points on a page, describing each briefly, and see if risk noticeably accelerates one to the next.

Another trick I use to test this is to work backwards from the end. I look at the last plot point I’ve chosen for my external conflict moments and ask what would need to happen before it to make it make sense.

This is basically question #3, above, but having all the points on the list in sequence makes the answer more valuable and real. Seeing all of the points lined up, as I work them out, tells me exactly where I still have slack. It also shows where the plot point wasn’t earned out—which just means arrival at that moment will be unbelievable to the reader.

Fixing it just requires going back into the points before it and planting clues or set-ups.

Agent approval and more

After I worked with Robert for a year, I had a sequence of events, external conflict, that worked. My opening crisis was still dramatic enough to get agent thumbs up but now the effect from that opening crisis built to something bigger.

I finally got agent thumbs up—for the whole story.

It worked because of the new understanding I had about external conflict. How to not just have a killer opening chapter but how to keep that momentum through 300-350 pages.

If you’re curious about how it works in real time, check out my book, which was published in October, became an Amazon bestseller, and is a finalist for two national awards. It’s available as a paperback, e-book, or audiobook (with a killer narrator).

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Your Weekly Writing Exercise

Use the five questions above to test one of your crisis moments in your fiction or memoir. If you can’t answer all five to your satisfaction, spend some time on external conflict moments this week. What could be ramped up?

Shout Out!

A hearty shout out to these writing friends and former students who are publishing their books! I encourage you to pre-order a copy to show your support of fellow writers and our writing community.

(If you are a former student and will publish soon (pre-orders of your book are available now), or have in the past two months, email mary[at]marycarrollmoore[dot]com to be included in a future Shout Out! I’ll keep your listing here for two months.)

Steve Hoffman, A Season for That: Lost and Found in the Other Southern France (Crown), July release

Jim Hight, Moon Over Humboldt (Black Rose Writing), August release

I’m a lifelong artist, and I love to inspire and support other creative folk, which is why I write this weekly newsletter. My goal with these posts is to help you strengthen your writing practice and creative life so it becomes more satisfying to you.

I’m also the author of 15 books in 3 genres. My third novel, Last Bets (Riverbed Press), was published in April, after becoming an Amazon bestseller during pre-orders. My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue (Riverbed Press), was published in October 2023 also and became an Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release from pre-orders. For twelve years, I worked as a full-time food journalist, most notably through my weekly column for the Los Angeles Times syndicate. My writing-craft book, Your Book Starts Here, won the New Hampshire Literary Awards “People’s Choice” in 2011 and my first novel, Qualities of Light, was nominated for PEN/Faulkner and Lambda Literary awards in 2009. I’ve written Your Weekly Writing Exercise every Friday since 2008.

First Sunday Q&A: The Perils of Too Much--or Not Enough--Research

Photo by Hans-Peter Gauster on Unsplash

Q: I admit I love research—maybe too much. It’s my profession and also my favorite part of writing. I view it like putting together a very complex puzzle where each piece has its importance in making a good, true picture. And the truth of the picture is vital to me.

Sometimes I can’t tell when to stop researching and start writing, though. Is there too much research? How can you tell when you have enough in your pocket? What’s the best approach to balancing the two?

A: One of my past students is a historian and her writer’s group is all historians like her. She asked me to visit one of their meetings and talk about my writing life.

I loved working with this writer, and I was eager to meet her group, but I had some reservations about my ability to hold my own while talking with writers who were super skilled—and passionate about—history. History, to me, is founded on research. I am not a rockstar in that arena.

I deliberately stayed clear of research-heavy writing for most of my writing career. Leery of getting in trouble? Of someone who knows more than I do about a topic writing me (in fury? in scorn?) about my obvious mistakes, how I misrepresented an important fact?

When I was a food journalist, I had a safety net. I either worked with a fact-checking team at my publisher’s or I wrote about stuff I knew well from working in restaurants and developing recipes. I was already an expert in how to cook, choose ingredients, season, and store food. I knew food science. I’d lived it.

Personal essays and memoir are about your own thoughts and feelings, not often about facts—although they can bring in a topic of research if it’s a fascination to you, of course. I felt at ease writing in this genre too. It could all come back to my personal experience and opinion.

Fiction looked like an even easier ride. Or so I thought.

But we get pulled places we long to explore, and they are not always safe harbors. I had to venture into serious research territory for my first novel, even more for the second and third.

When this lovely group of historians met with me on zoom, it was really no surprise that eventually they began asking me about research for my second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue. I left the conversation with great respect for these skilled researchers. With much relief that I didn’t have to be one of them.

But I did understand the dilemma, even more, that most writers face between research and writing. How to do both, without sacrificing one for the other?

It comes down to: How do we keep our passion alive in our creative efforts—research, for instance—but still get our books written?

To me, it also comes down to three areas, which I want to explore in this post.

How important is research, and how does it weigh in different genres?

How do you go about the process of researching?

How do you tell when you have enough? How do you find balance between the fascination of discovery and real progress on a book project?

Podcast discussion of research

Some points I cover below are discussed on this podcast interview for Resilient Writers Radio Show. Prefer listening over reading? Click the link below.

Let’s talk genres

Writing nonfiction, especially fact-based? Good research is a given. You accurately represent the world you’re describing, whenever it has factual existence outside of yourself.

That means what? Well, if you talk about a place, you bring accuracy of that place into your descriptions. If you share historical facts, you do your best to use documented facts and information. If you talk science, you cite findings. If you include a real person, you do your best to accurately share findings from public knowledge bases or personal experience.

Nobody wants to misrepresent. It’s not fair and it can confuse your reader. What’s the point of any of that?

If we share interesting discoveries or information, it’s also correct to give credit to the person who originated it. So we provide a good link to the source. If readers want to know more than we’ve shared, they have clear direction of where to go.

This mostly goes without saying, but I’m refreshing myself and all of us on these basics because maybe they’re not clear. Good research forms a solid basis for believability. Of course, there’s often question about source accuracy, and we need to do due diligence—not just head to Wikipedia but look further, getting more than one source to provide verification.

This sounds tedious to some, exciting to others.

What about fiction?

Historical fiction is based on great research, of course. I don’t write it for that reason—the research takes up so much of the creating time (more about that below)—but I do understand how a writer can get totally swept up by a period of history and long to set a story in that time and place.

On our winter camper trip, one of my campground “free library” finds was a novel by JoJo Moyes, The Giver of Stars, which is about the traveling librarians in Depression-era Kentucky. Moyes shares the extensive research she did, and the book felt accurate to me as a reader, so I trusted this. That’s what you want to establish as a writer—a sense in the reader that they can trust your information about an era or place.

What happens when you move out of history in your fiction and don’t have that element to contend with? I still believe most novels and short stories need some research, some accuracy-test, to make them believable and trustworthy.

It’s up to you, the writer, how much you base your story on stuff that needs researching. I’ve climbed steadily into that need as I wrote each novel.

How do you research?

A reader wrote me these questions about research in my second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue: Please talk about your research process for all the flying/aviation aspects. It felt very realistic and I know little about flying. You obviously did much more research than what appeared in your book. How did you decide what details to include? How might you use information not included in the book?

That’s such a great conundrum for writers who start down the research trail. You inevitably learn much more than you can use, if you do it well. And how do you choose?

First, how do you begin research, say, on aviation when you’re not an aviator? Or substitute any topic you’re not versed in.

I grew up loving all things aviation because my mom was a pilot in World War II and it became a great legacy for me as a child and young adult. I remember going to airports to stand on the observation deck at night and watching planes take off and land. When I began teaching writing, I occasionally had a pilot or flight instructor among my students. I always longed to take them aside and ask them questions about flying.

When I began drafting A Woman’s Guide, I contacted one of the flight instructors who’d stayed in touch. I asked if she’d be willing to help me create believable, accurate flying sections for my novel. I wanted to open the book with a small plane crash where the pilot survives but the plane explodes. How was this possible?

She said yes, she’d be delighted, and she not only read my drafted scenes but took the plane crash scenario to her cohort of flight instructors to discuss. They came back to me with detailed instructions on what I’d need to set up, include, and revisit later in the book.

Don’t weigh down the story

Research makes a solid foundation for believability. But it can also weigh the story down.

If you include too many facts, just because they fascinate you or you’re worried about coming across as inaccurate, the tension of the tale itself will drop. That’s bad. So how do you know if you are overdoing or underdoing it?

I use feedback as my guide. When I needed facts about Search & Rescue, another former student came to my rescue and put me in touch with a SAR team leader who worked the California mountains. I sent her drafted scenes. I got back extensive feedback. I made changes until I got a thumbs up. But then in final revision, I read through these scenes for pacing, for tension, and I deleted a few sections. They were important to the experts, but not to the story. My goal wasn’t to inform the world about Search & Rescue; it was to make that aspect of the story convincing.

Feedback was essential to figuring out what was useful to the story and what weighed it down. As a writer fascinated with certain research facts—aviation lore—it can be hard to tell. After I got expert feedback, I went to my beta readers, my editor, and my proofreader for final thumbs up.

In the end, it must read accurately to both.

Artistic license

While I wish to be accurate in all ways, I also allow myself artistic license. When I reach a point of the story not working because of facts (and I’m writing fiction, after all), there’s room for leeway.

You know those disclaimers that publishers insert in the acknowledgements or copyrights page of most novels, the ones that say “it’s all coincidence if this seems like the story of your aunt or your hometown, because it’s not?” That’s a legal protection, of sorts, but it also allows the author to stretch facts for story purposes.

I ran into this with my third novel, Last Bets. It’s set on the Caribbean island of Bonaire, in the Netherland Antilles. I’ve been to Bonaire, I spent a week there scuba diving in my thirties, but I hadn’t been back. I felt uneasy about setting the story there since my memory of the island was not up to date. But each time I tried to replace the location, it felt wrong.

So I researched. Online, I could verify many details that would be used in the story, but two or three I couldn’t find. Again, I debated whether to jettison these parts—one was the luxury gated community where one of the characters had lived until he lost it all gambling. Another was the actual layout of the dive resort and hotel, the main setting for most of the scenes. I’d spent the week at a dive resort and thought it was close enough, but what to do about that gated community that probably didn’t exist on the real island?

It took me many months to work out this conundrum, but in the end I opted for a disclaimer in my Author Notes at the back of the book. I would fess up to readers that the real Bonaire is the inspiration for the novel but a few details were fictionalized to serve the story. So far, I haven’t gotten any hate mail.

I do believe in artistic license, the leeway we writers need to make our stories work beyond accuracy. As long as we do no harm, perhaps this is acceptable to most readers.

Rabbit hole

Research can be a rabbit hole. Even my historian group nodded to this possibility—when the research itself is totally fascinating, the writing can be put aside as secondary.

How do you balance this tendency, if you love research?

These techniques have worked for my students:

Set limits to your research. Decide how much time you can spend each writing session. Be reasonable, according to the stage of your project—the early stages may require more research time but don’t let it wipe out everything else. Some writers set aside certain days for research and do only that. Or they write for a specific amount of time or word count before they let themselves research.

Use the journalist TK to mark “research needed” and let you keep writing anyway. The TK becomes your placeholder for what you’ll add later. I used this with my aviation or SAR chapters: “TK plane crash” or “TK early morning SAR.” This is a tried-and-true method to keep the research from overwhelming the actual writing session.

Especially with Internet research, make sure you have a timer or alarm set to keep you aware of how many minutes or hours you’re away from your writing. Once I start looking at web pages and following links, I can get lost in the “just one more” syndrome. Just say no. You can come back tomorrow.

If you’re afraid of losing a trail online, bookmark the pages or copy links onto a document so you can easily return.

What has worked for you?

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I am neither historian nor avid researcher, but I honor the need for it. It’s not writing, though. It never is. Important to remember that, no matter how much you love it.

My goal with these First Sunday newsletters is to create a personal, private space, free of trolling, open to all ideas, where we can discuss our questions and concerns about the writing practice we all try to maintain. If you’d like to let someone else know about the information here, click below.

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Two Kinds of Rejuvenation for the Creative Life

What’s new in my writing world: I’m taking a break from my podcast tour and enjoying a lot of nothing this month! My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue, released in October, just became a finalist for the 18th National Indie Excellent Awards! A big deal. It’s also a finalist for the Golden Crown Literary Society’s Ann Bannon Popular Choice Award. I worked very hard on that book and I’m so glad it’s getting recognition. My newest novel, Last Bets, is out now, and it was a bestseller on Amazon. “Readers will get lost in Moore's beautiful prose, her impeccable plotting, and her outstandingly relatable and multi-layered characters. Beautifully wrought story of two women artists outrunning their demons,” said Booklife/Publisher’s Weekly who made it an Editor’s Pick.

Photo by Abbie Bernet on Unsplash

What would rejuvenate your creative self right now? Maybe not what you—or others—think. I find the writing life demands two kinds of creative energy: the inward action of filling the well of inspiration and the outer work of manifesting a project.

Most of us are great at one, less at the other. Most of us get depleted in one area, and knowing which means we can choose a break that builds stamina quickly and effectively.

I didn’t always know this. I thought, like most of us creatives, that applying for time away at a residency or attending a writing retreat for a week would always do the trick.

But, actually, the inner and outer work of creating has very different demands. It took two decades of teaching other writers and a lot of trial and error before I saw clearly what I most need when my creative reserves are low. And it’s not what I expected.

The Artist’s Way started it all

I personally had a terrible time with the The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I could slip into some of her suggestions for a great writing life and I failed miserably at others. I read this book when it first came out in 1992 and it became my go-to for cranking up my creative energy whenever it slid. But I didn’t yet know the different needs of the dream stuff of writing and the outer discipline of manifesting.

Dream stuff is simply the resource for book ideas and brilliant plots and those amazing character conversations that roll around in your head and settings that send you places inside. Some call this the creative well. It’s refilled by things that surprise, delight, inspire, educate, astonish you. That disturb you and make you want to speak out. That bring you perspective on your history and your presence.

Outer manifesting is the butt-in-chair part of the writing life. The outer work of creating, the practice, the sitting down and putting fingers to keyboard or pen to paper. It’s grunt work, far from the sparkle of dream work.

Knowing which you are good at, what comes easily to you, also tells you where you might get depleted fast.

For me, I love grunt work—I’m the person who gets covered with mud, out in the garden. The one who has no hesitation cleaning my dog’s butt. I am very comfortable with writing practice, and I rarely need breaks from it.

The inner work, ah, that’s another story. So many times I have let my well run dry.

Artist dates versus morning pages

Cameron was smart when she suggested not only the daily discipline of Morning Pages (three, stream of consciousness pages) and the weekly Artist Date (going someplace new for an hour to fill the well inside).

I latched on to the Morning Pages as my daily routine back in 1992. It wasn’t a far reach from what I already did with my morning journaling. Journals in my life date back to 1972 and I still have that one, embarrassing as it is. I couldn’t get along without writing each day, stuff no one will ever read but me. It’s my sanity and my processing.

I still write Morning Pages every day, over twenty years later. Although they process the inner stuff, they are essentially an outer practice.

But Artist Dates? I could never make time for them. A huge effort for me to even think of a place to go, much less separate myself from my ordinary life and do it. Because I wanted to get the most from the book, I really tried. I’d go out for errands (practical reason) and try to stop in at a new store (maybe qualifies as an Artist Date). I made a list of cool places to go. But I rarely made myself actually go. And the twist was to do it alone, just for you. With a friend, I might have done it. Not just for myself.

If I did manage a mini-break, say to visit a museum, I was always transformed by it. The juice from that hour away was a many day resource for my creativity, and I grew as an artist. So I know it worked. I just couldn’t justify it—it was what I needed and what I couldn’t do.

Which is easier for you? It’s all so individual.

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Individual needs

It takes me a long time to learn, especially when it’s about myself and my creative life. Friends suggested weeklong retreats, applying for residencies. I couldn’t see the point. Not that a week by a beautiful lake wasn’t paradise but where I live is gorgeous and I’m not starving for beauty. I duly signed up for weeklong getaways only to find myself writing less than when I was at home.

I love the outer work of writing, I love sitting down and doing it. I didn’t need to get away to find my groove. I could work just fine at home, in my regular life.

But I didn’t realize it was the other part that was dried up. So when I finally went on a physical get-away and I found myself not wanting to write but rather just sleep and read and eat, it became a cool sign of where I was actually depleted.

Then I found myself with family, visiting an art museum in Philly one weekend. I think it was a Turner exhibit, which was wonderful, but it wasn’t the painting that transformed me. It was the view into art, into the world beyond my eyes. New things to see. It could’ve happened at a concert, a street market, a beach. I needed the new perspectives I couldn’t get in my small but beautiful world at home.

Not just quiet

With this past year of two books published between October 2023 and April 2024, I had lots of stamina initially for the outer work. I kept writing these Substacks, got booked on over 30 podcasts, learned how to share my books online and otherwise. Although, I had a steep learning curve, which you can read about in past newsletters from this year, I enjoyed my groove, even as an introvert.

But what I didn’t notice was that inner well starting to run dry. Introverts, or at least me as an introvert, need an equal amount of well-filling time (not just quiet, inward time but inspiration rejuvenation). But I loved meeting readers. I found happiness and uplift in the outreach as more of them told me they loved the novels. A gift to an author, and not always mine with every book I’ve published.

So, I wondered, do I need something other than quiet, rest, inward time? Is it possible those Artist Dates were right all along?

What I saw in my students

Students who came to my weeklong retreats all those years ago were often saturated with inspiration but too exhausted to manifest it.

For them, the retreat was a means of getting away from a life that is running the creative person ragged.

For them, I proposed a lot of alone time in their cottage rather than more input or lessons or structure. They just needed to use what they were receiving. They just needed to manifest the juicy stuff. That would be an incredible retreat. These were the writers who got independent study instead of classroom times.

Students who came with plenty of writing but a certain tension in their faces, with great ability to crank out pages while not seeing the writing was dulled down from repetition, perhaps, needed something different from the retreat. They were like flowers that needed to sit in water for a while and get rejuvenated by new ideas, inspiration, community, other writers. We read, discussed, shared, and played all kinds of fun inspiration games.

Taking a break is so needed by all of us, and summer is the time. But the kind of break you need may differ from what you think. Try the exercise this week to test this out.

Your Weekly Writing Exercise

How do you tell what part of your writing life most needs a break this summer? Think about these statements and see what’s true for you.

I have no trouble staying with my writing practice but my work isn’t satisfying me.

I’m repeating what I already know.

I keep revising but can’t seem to get a working manuscript.

Feedback is confusing—my readers aren’t engaged.

I can’t make time for my writing.

I’m exhausted by my work, family, eldercare, other demands and writing is the last thing I feel like doing.

I keep missing deadlines for my book.

I have a thousand ideas and no energy to get them on paper.

This isn’t an exact science, of course, but if you related to the first four sentences above, you may be ready for inspiration or filling the creative well again. You don’t have trouble writing, but you need to get out more! Find inspiration in some of the ideas below.

If you related more to the last four sentences, you could sure use a get-away—soon! A writing retreat, residency, or even an hour at a coffee shop might really help.

Here are some ideas to refill the creative well (from my students and me).

Read something by somebody else (poetry is my go to).

Try a prompt (What If? by Pamela Painter and Ann Bernard is a winner).

Move 25 things in your living space.

Get outside for some exercise. Get to a beach, a trail, a forest, a park. Take an hour walk or run or do some yoga.

Re-awaken your eye to beauty. Read art books at the library. Go to a museum. Spend an hour at a bookstore and leaf through three magazines you’ve never heard of.

Move your writing space. Take your writing to a coffee shop, library, outdoor cafe, park, or friend’s house. Write about what you see right in front of you. Record an overheard conversation for dialogue ideas.

Immerse yourself in another culture for an afternoon. A street market, a restaurant, a cultural center, a religious gathering, a concert in a park. Make sure it’s new to you.

Here are some ideas to get time and energy to write.

Get away—seriously! Take a week alone by yourself at a writing retreat. Here’s a list from The Write Life to entice you.

Create an artificial deadline with rewards that matter to you. If it’s motivating, ask a friend to help keep you accountable. Make it someone you need to show up for, if you have trouble showing up for yourself.

Schedule five, one-hour “disappearances” where you don’t have to tell anyone where you’re going. Label them legit—”writing class” or “meet with trainer” or “meet with boss” in case someone else sees your calendar and tries to discount the break time.

Overwhelm is easy if you’re depleted. Take smaller bites of your writing time. Make a list of 25 very small steps that would help you feel like you’re touching in with your writing. Rather than “write the scene,” try “brainstorm a character’s clothes.” Make it fun.

Read this article about how professional writers navigate creative slumps from Medium.

What might you try? What kind of break do you most need?

Leave a comment

Shout Out!

A hearty shout out to these writing friends and former students who are publishing their books! I encourage you to pre-order a copy to show your support of fellow writers and our writing community.

(If you are a former student and will publish soon (pre-orders of your book are available now), or have in the past two months, email mary[at]marycarrollmoore[dot]com to be included in a future Shout Out! I’ll keep your listing here for two months.)

Afarin O. Bellisario, Silenced Whispers (Transtrategy), April release

Steve Hoffman, A Season for That: Lost and Found in the Other Southern France (Crown), July release

Jim Hight, Moon Over Humboldt (Black Rose Writing), August release

I’m a lifelong artist, and I love to inspire and support other creative folk, which is why I write this weekly newsletter. My goal with these posts is to help you strengthen your writing practice and creative life so it becomes more satisfying to you.

I’m also the author of 15 books in 3 genres. My third novel, Last Bets (Riverbed Press), was published in April, after becoming an Amazon bestseller during pre-orders. My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue (Riverbed Press), was published in October 2023 also and became an Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release from pre-orders. For twelve years, I worked as a full-time food journalist, most notably through my weekly column for the Los Angeles Times syndicate. My writing-craft book, Your Book Starts Here, won the New Hampshire Literary Awards “People’s Choice” in 2011 and my first novel, Qualities of Light, was nominated for PEN/Faulkner and Lambda Literary awards in 2009. I’ve written Your Weekly Writing Exercise every Friday since 2008.

Organizing Your Writing Life: Practice versus Perfect

What’s new in my writing world: My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue, released in October, just became a finalist for the 18th National Indie Excellent Awards! A big deal. It’s also a finalist for the Golden Crown Literary Society’s Ann Bannon Popular Choice Award. I worked very hard on that book and I’m so glad it’s getting recognition. My newest novel, Last Bets, is out now, and it was a bestseller on Amazon. “Readers will get lost in Moore's beautiful prose, her impeccable plotting, and her outstandingly relatable and multi-layered characters. Beautifully wrought story of two women artists outrunning their demons,” said Booklife/Publisher’s Weekly who made it an Editor’s Pick.

Photo by Unseen Studio on Unsplash

With creative work, it’s all about the practice. Showing up each day or each working session. Engagement with whatever the work brings to you and you bring to it. The surprise, delight, and discovery, as well as the persistence and determination, required.

No mention of perfection here. A great relief to me (maybe you too). Practice is the opposite of perfect. It’s the process, not as much the result.

I spent many years figuring out my ideal writing practice. Everyone’s approach to their creative life is so individual, as it should be. So how you do your practice is totally up to you. The only questions I ended up considering, as my practice grew and became a solid part of my writing life were the two below. I revisit them all the time, making adjustments as needed. Because life changes happen.

Is it sustainable?

Does it bring me (mostly) joy and satisfaction?

I wanted a good writing practice. To me, that meant it answered yes to the questions above. It was sustainable—it fit the rest of my life, it didn’t take away from my other responsibilities of work, childcare, eldercare, family, friends, health, and fun. It brought me satisfaction and joy because writing is what I’m called to do. It makes the world make sense to me.

A good writing practice ended up having five aspects that I had to work with. Tweak as needed. If one got neglected, the practice began to not be sustainable or satisfying.

Five aspects to build your practice

Like anything else we practice, it takes time and trial to find what works for us. These five aspects were “make or break” for me. As my non-writing life changed or new responsibilities crept in, these five had to adjust. Sometimes it took negotiation with my family. Sometimes it took a total reworking.

Permission and privacy

Where to write

When to write

Inspiration and rituals

How to begin and end

Some of these will be no-brainers for you—you’ve already got them covered. Others might be new ideas, worth considering. When I’m not writing regularly, when something is “off” about my practice, I look back on these five to see what’s not being supported.

The goal with a sustainable practice is making it a routine. You don’t question or resist it. You just do it. An exercise program that works is one that happens almost automatically. Anything that you want to make a regular part of your life must have some automatic element. It’s not negotiable.

For instance, if you have to clear off the dining room table (full of kids’ projects, bill paying, paperwork) each time you want to write, the second aspect (where to write) is under constant reworking—it’s always being negotiated. That doesn’t work to make a sustainable practice. Or if your teenage daughter shares your computer, you don’t have the first aspect (permission and privacy) in place.

These were two examples from my past students who struggled to make a sustainable writing practice. I cringed at both. But they were real, and they explained why the writing wasn’t happening.

Taking care of these five does not take away the creativity, not at all. It makes it happen.

Permission and privacy

Making your writing practice legit is a struggle for many of us. We have lives that demand our attention. What’s more important, the kid’s birthday party or the short story you’re in the middle of, when it comes down to the wire? Or your boss’s demand that you work overtime to complete a project when you had planned to leave work and go right to the coffee shop to write for two hours before dinner?

Nobody can give us permission to make our writing practice legit, except ourselves. So the first thing is to ask yourself, Where does writing fall in my life priorities? Can I stand up for what it will take from other responsibilities? Can I give myself permission to write regularly?

I find this takes negotiation. First, with self. Some writers block out times on their calendars each week to start, just to begin to feel what it’s like to have dedicated writing time. Second, with family. Having a family meeting where you let everyone know the importance of your writing, to you, and your wish to make room in the family schedule for dedicated time can be both scary and exhilarating. We are empty nesters now, but I still sit down with my spouse, also a creative artist, and talk about my writing wishes, what I need to keep my practice going in the face of scheduling demands.

I do find that when I begin to stand up for my writing, other parts of my life suddenly get busier, as if to test my resolve. It’s uncanny. So I’ve learned to expect that and pursue my dream anyway.

Privacy is another negotiation. Do you have space where you can be undisturbed to write? Perhaps, if the answer is no, you can do what one of my students did and take back a grown child’s bedroom or even build a writing room in a walk-in closet. Both these writers found huge relief in the privacy they suddenly had. Not all of us can have perfect studios, but we can have portable writing lives and a local coffee shop where we sit and write among strangers, often the best kind of privacy.

What might work for you?

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Where to write

Finding your ideal place to write is a work-in-progress for many writers. I toggle between laptop in the living room, coffee shop in the next town, and my studio. To my surprise, I found it easy to write among strangers (coffee shop) or even in a common room with my family if everyone was occupied. But quite often I need to be completely alone, with the door closed, not even my dogs present, to really dive deep into it.

Distractions come in all flavors. I used to set up in my garden, which is very private and beautiful, but my gardener self would interrupt—I’ll just pull that weed over there, this plant looks like it needs water. Writing outdoors, for me, doesn’t work as well. Even looking out a window is not ideal. I need to be contained in the small world of my laptop or notebook.

Libraries are great. I spent many late afternoons at our local library, seated at one of the reference tables, completely absorbed in my writing. People came and went around me, but I felt isolated and private.

Being out of the house was a good step when my books were on deadline. I needed to have completely uninterrupted time. Of course, I turned off the ringer on my phone and quite often the wi-fi on my laptop, just to keep me from toggling to check email.

Where do you like to write?

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When to write

I’m an early morning person. I love being up before everyone else. When my son was a teenager, I worked it out with my spouse who would take morning childcare (getting him fed and off to school, with homework in backpack), and I got to closet myself in my studio. I didn’t even change out of my pajamas, some mornings—the time was too precious. If I got up early (by 6 or so), I could get one to two hours of glorious writing time.

After my writing session, I rejoined the family and re-entered the day, which included work, household stuff, errands, email, and the like.

I tried, if I could manage it, to get a second writing session either in late afternoon or after dinner. Depended on my energy, though, and whether I felt the need to be with the family in the evening. But the morning time was sacrosanct.

A colleague once talked about an exercise to determine the best time of day to write. If you’re still working this out, you might try making a list of how you spend 24 hours. See what you tend to do at what time of day or night. When you feel most productive and creative. When your energy slumps and you can’t do much. Then choose your writing time, if possible, in one of the creative time slots.

When is your favorite time to write?

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Inspiration and rituals

This next aspect of a satisfying, sustainable writing practice was one I came across after years of calling myself a writer. I’ve written about the need for inspiration many times in this newsletter, and I’ve touched on the need for rituals too, but I’ll give an overview/recap here.

Inspiration is what keeps us going. It feeds the creative person. Artists, like myself as a painter, get inspiration before a studio session by looking at other art or an inspiring scene, like a landscape or the way light hits the side of an object or a person’s face. Or perhaps inspiration comes from something that has happened, politically or culturally, that demands a response. Writers get inspiration from other writers’ work—I read poetry, often, before beginning to write. They also respond to feelings about what’s happening in the world, in their lives. A loss or a change, a trauma, needs to be elucidated on paper, so the writing is inspired by our history too.

Keeping a fund of inspiration handy is part of my sustainable writing practice. I have many poetry books in my studio. I read other novelists or short story writers when I am working on fiction. Essayists when I am working on nonfiction.

Some writers listen to music—some even make soundtracks of their books to inspire them.

Rituals are the foundation of practice, and if you think this is too woo for you, consider the small steps you do, almost unconsciously, to prepare to write. What’s the lighting like? Do you have a favorite pen or notebook? Do you listen to music or prefer silence? Do you have to have a certain chair? A certain table or desk? Do you have a favorite beverage or snack that “tells” you it’s time to settle in and write?

Because rituals do that—they tell us, subconsciously, that we have permission. We can begin.

I love the Observation Deck by Naomi Epel, Roger Von Oech’s Creative Whack Pack, and magnetic poetry as rituals to start. They give inspiration, but regular use also creates a positive ritual.

Again, this is just a tool—nothing magical about it—to trigger the creative self to start the dreamy space that writing is all about.

What rituals and inspiration do you use?

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How to begin and end

I also didn’t pay much attention to this part of writing practice until many books and years had passed, then I realized I had a certain way to begin my writing session and end it that made it more satisfying.

The goal of a satisfying beginning is eagerness to start—no horror of the blank page.

The goal of a great ending is acknowledgment of what you’ve created, kind of celebrating the fact that one more writing session has taken place, and setting up the next session.

They work together. The ending actually fortifies the beginning, so let’s start with some ideas for that.

When I end a writing session, I try to plan in five minutes to do these things:

save and back up my file

make note of what I might do next with the scene or chapter

write down a few questions as prompts for the next writing time

send the new file to my gmail so I can read it on my phone later that evening, if I want

When I begin a writing session, I do whatever ritual I enjoy, such as reading a poem or a section from a craft book. But if I’ve ended the last session well, I already have many ways/ideas to begin this new one. I can read over what I wrote (either on the phone via gmail or on my laptop). I can begin working with one of the questions or prompts. I can look at my notes.

Rarely do I face a blank page with trepidation. There’s too much eagerness, which is my sign of a good session ahead.

Your Weekly Writing Exercise

All of these elements are ideal, and you may not have all of them in place yet. Spend time this week thinking about your current writing practice and your hope for a better, more sustainable and satisfying one.

I suggest freewriting about both. First, take the temperature of your current practice: spend 10 minutes describing how you write now, going through these five aspects. Rate your satisfaction with each on a scale of 1 to 5, with 5 being very satisfying and 1 very low.

Then make a wish list of what’s missing, where you’d like to strengthen. How can you take one step this week to bring in something new?

What did you learn?

Leave a comment

Shout Out!

A hearty shout out to these writing friends and former students who are publishing their books! I encourage you to pre-order a copy to show your support of fellow writers and our writing community.

(If you are a former student and will publish soon (pre-orders of your book are available now), or have in the past two months, email mary[at]marycarrollmoore[dot]com to be included in a future Shout Out! I’ll keep your listing here for two months.)

Afarin O. Bellisario, Silenced Whispers (Transtrategy), April release

Steve Hoffman, A Season for That: Lost and Found in the Other Southern France (Crown), July release

Jim Hight, Moon Over Humboldt (Black Rose Writing), August release

I’m a lifelong artist, and I love to inspire and support other creative folk, which is why I write this weekly newsletter. My goal with these posts is to help you strengthen your writing practice and creative life so it becomes more satisfying to you.

I’m also the author of 15 books in 3 genres. My third novel, Last Bets (Riverbed Press), was published in April, after becoming an Amazon bestseller during pre-orders. My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue (Riverbed Press), was published in October 2023 also and became an Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release from pre-orders. For twelve years, I worked as a full-time food journalist, most notably through my weekly column for the Los Angeles Times syndicate. My writing-craft book, Your Book Starts Here, won the New Hampshire Literary Awards “People’s Choice” in 2011 and my first novel, Qualities of Light, was nominated for PEN/Faulkner and Lambda Literary awards in 2009. I’ve written Your Weekly Writing Exercise every Friday since 2008.