Heather Demetrios's Blog, page 6

Walking Meditation For Writers

Walk as if you are kissing the earth with your feet. 

~Thich Nhat Hanh

 

One of my favorite ways to clear my head in between writing sessions is through walking meditation. It’s a great way to re-energize myself if I’ve been sitting for a while, giving me a chance to get back into my body, where all that good emotion I draw on as I write my books lives. I also find that it can help with flow, as well, as it activates that “in the zone” part of me. I don’t know about you, but sometimes if I’ve been intensely writing for a while, I begin to experience diminishing returns. My head gets fuzzy, the power zaps out. Taking a break to stretch and do some walking meditation has been a great way to keep the fires burning.

 

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Walking meditation is a totally legit form of meditation, as it’s one of the four postures recommended by the Buddha (the others are sitting, standing, and lying down–although this last one is tricky in terms of staying awake, so I don’t generally recommend it unless you’re doing a highly guided visualization meditation). You don’t need loads of space or a fancy Zen garden or medieval labyrinth, though if you do have those, bonus! I live in a tiny Brooklyn apartment and I manage just fine, though I think my dog is still confused. Subway platforms and big porches are also rad. All you need is enough space for twenty or so paces (about ten feet), ideally in a straight line, with no obstructions.

And then? You walk back and forth. Walk those twenty paces (choose a visual place to stop – you’re not actually counting them). Stop. Breathe and be present. Turn. Walk the next twenty paces. And so on, for as long as you wish. Don’t switch up your path. Just keep to what you’ve decided on (some people do switch it up and that’s fine, it’s just distracting for me to do that, so see what works for you). When I’m doing walking meditation as my actual daily meditation practice, I do this for thirty minutes. But mostly I just do it in five minute spurts in between writing sessions or when I’m in an upset or overwhelm and just need to get re-aligned and present.

 

The Nitty Gritty

Posture: I like to hold myself in a posture of noble dignity. First it just feels really good to walk with my head held high and with a sense of unhurried purpose. I feel like my jinni protagonist Nalia from Exquisite Captive–regal and focused. My back is straight and shoulders slightly back, but the position is relaxed. We’re not ballerinas here. Ideally your shoulders and hips are in alignment. This is not rocket science, so don’t get hung up at this first step. Just, you know, walk like you’re the Mother of Dragons and you’ll be good.

 

 

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Hands: Your hands can be however you want them, though I recommend putting them behind you and holding onto one of your wrists or elbows, or letting them hang naturally at your side. There’s also a nice little traditional hand-clasping you can do where you make a fist with your left hand (thumb inside), then place your right hand over the fist so that your right thumb rests gently on top (see image to your left). Then you would hold this hand position at or just above your belly. But, really, it’s about what works for you. Sometimes I walk with my hands in my pockets or my arms crossed.

 

Feet: The key, in my opinion, to really getting the most from this style of meditation is to walk barefoot. First, it gives you an anchor so you can keep your focus. In sitting meditation, we often use the breath or a mantra as an anchor so that when we realize our mind has wandered, we can gently bring it back to a point of focus. In walking meditation, the anchor is the feel of your foot slowly stepping forward. You can absolutely do this in socks or comfortable shoes, so don’t let the barefoot thing deter you if your only space is a parking garage. But if you can manage to be barefoot, you’ll find that it’s extremely grounding and really helps you concentrate on the steps. Energetically, the act of connecting intimately with the earth will automatically have a calming, centering effect.

Pace: When you’re doing walking meditation, you usually focus on your steps.  The pace you take is up to you, but there are three nice ones that I like to use and that are often introduced in walking meditation sessions. The first is a moderate pace–not New York fast walking, but an unhurried browsing kind of walk, where you walk naturally. The second pace is my favorite. You walk slowly, concentrating on each part of the step you take. So, I would place my right heel down, then the arch, then the ball of the foot, then the toes and be very present and aware of that whole process before I move on to the left foot. The third pace is glacially slow. You very slowly pick up your foot, let it land on the heel, then follow through the rest of the step (similar to the second version, but slower. Like, reallllllly slow).

Soundtrack: You should do this in silence. So, no recorded nature sounds or music. You can – and should – be aware of your environment. If you hear a sound, acknowledge it. Don’t dwell on it or start thinking about how you want to murder your neighbor for her music taste or let it take you down a rabbit hole about how you danced to that song with your ex in Bali. Just note it and move on. Thoughts will come and they are not the enemy, but in meditation we don’t fixate on them. We note them (as in, “Thinking” or “Planning” or “Imagining”) and move on. The best analogy I’ve heard for this is the Tibetan idea of “sky mind.” Your mind is the unchanging sky, your thoughts clouds that pass by. You notice the clouds, but you don’t grab onto them. The clouds do what clouds do–move on, dissipate.

To mantra or not to mantra?: In sitting meditation we are often very focused on the breath, but in walking meditation, just breathe naturally. If you have a mettā (lovingkindness) practice, you might dig doing this as you walk. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you can read a little bit about mettā in this post I wrote a while back. If you’re into affirmations, you might enjoy doing those as you walk, too. However, for the purposes of using this to assist with flow during writing, I don’t recommend mantras or lovingkindness or anything of the sort because you really want to be giving your mind a rest during this time. Recharging for the next bout of writing. But play around and make this practice your own. Mantras are great if you’re being hard on yourself and feeling like the shittiest writer who has ever graced the earth, or you’re deep into publishing fears. See what the moment needs.

 

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Path: Some people will tell you that they go on long, rambling walks and that they consider these walking meditation. I’m not in their heads, so maybe this is the case. However, meditation tends to work best with structure. We sit on a cushion in a specific way, for a pre-determined amount of time etc. If you go on a long walk, you are likely to lose the focus that walking meditation affords you. You’re also likely to get distracted by all manner of things–other people, a neighbor’s intriguing box of free stuff…If you want to talk a walk, take a walk! But if you want to do walking meditation, then I personally recommend you stick to your ten-foot path.

Duration: As I mentioned before, you can do this for as long as you wish, but it’s important that you commit to the time and you don’t deviate. If you get a great idea, no you can’t quick write it down. All my meditation teachers and the great sages will tell you this. You don’t interrupt your meditation for anything non-emergency related. You will never find the equilibrium, insight, peace, and the host of other things meditation can give you if you don’t commit to your seat (or, in this case, your feet). I have my own addition to this: if the idea is a worthy one, one that you actually need to pursue right now, the universe will make sure you don’t forget it. Okay, I also recently discovered a cheat: when I get a great idea, I turn my ring around so that when I’m done and see my ring is facing the wrong way, this triggers my memory.

As with any style of meditation, if you do get a great story idea, you can’t put the meditation on hold and play that out in your head. Meditating is for meditating. Writing time is for writing. However, I do have some tweaks to this below.

 

How To Use This Practice As A Writing Hack

 

Unravelling Snarls and Other Issues

Walking meditation can be an excellent way to brainstorm the shit out of your novel. That being said, it’s not really meditation anymore if you do this–we’ll call it very focused thinking.

Let’s say you’re feeling stuck. You don’t really know what your protagonist wants or you’re not quite sure what do about this corner you’ve backed yourself into with your magic system. Set the timer for five or ten minutes. Choose your path for walking, then walk and start unravelling the snarls. The act of walking really does help produce flow. In the excellent Daily Rituals, there are countless examples of artists and thinkers who get great ideas or solve problems while walking. Many of them schedule daily, uninterrupted walks (so, no podcasts or music). I can attest to this. My entire path of coaching came to me gradually over several walks with my dog. Stories problems with stories have been solved, new ideas conjured. So, it stands to reason that walking meditation can also produce these results.

Again, don’t stop to write things down. Just keep working in your mind, walking, breathing, stopping, turning, walking again. When you’re done, grab your notebook and journal a bit about what came up for you.

 

Interviewing Your Characters

A great way to get to the heart of your protagonist in order to discover their wants and needs is to interview them. I traditionally have done this on my computer, writing as they speak to me, but the same can be done in writing meditation.

Before you start, think of some questions you want to ask, but once you get started, just let the conversation flow as natural, in-real-life conversations do. Again, don’t stop to write things down, but when you’re finished, grab your notebook or computer and have at it.

 

I hope walking meditation helps you get the space you need in your work and gets those creative juices flowing. Feel free to reach out if you have questions, or other ways of doing walking meditation that work for you. Post a comment below and tell us how it went if you tried it out!

 

Happy writing, friends.

 

I would walk along the quais when I had finished work or when I was trying to think something out. It was easier to think if I was walking and doing something or seeing people doing something that they understood. 

~ Hemingway

 

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As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life and an update on all things bookish. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing! 

Bad Romance Links Roundup

[image error]It’s been over two months since my most recent YA contemporary novel, Bad Romance, came out. Man, this summer flew by! I wanted to post some of my favorite links for guest posts and interviews that I’ve done over the summer. Some are fun, most get into why I wrote the book in the first place (my own bad romance in high school), and several touch on what to do if you find yourself in an unhealthy relationship.

This is a book about the dark side of love, yes, but it also features swoons, drama nerdship, and all that stuff that makes high school unforgettable. I’m really proud of the novel and so glad I wrote it. I’ve been getting emails and messages on social media from women and teens who are, or who have been, in relationships like this and I’m just floored by the amount of pain and bravery out there. I’m glad I can be a part of the conversation and hold space for other women and girls who are hurting. We’re not alone.

 

The Official Bad Romance site, with an excerpt, a badass break-up playlist, and loads of resources and inspiration.

My post for Barnes and Noble for Teen Dating Violence Awareness Month

This was a fun one for Forever YA on the blog tour about bad romances in pop culture

A post for School Library Journal’s Teen Librarian Toolbox about Michelle Carter and Teen Dating Violence (She’s the girl that texted her boyfriend to kill himself and he did.)

Interview on Brit+Co about all things writing and Bad Romance

Swoon Reads post in which I interview my editor! So cool to see behind the scenes. (And here’s where she interviews me).

The Mary Sue guest post on how crappy home lives put you at risk for a bad romance

Swoon Reads post on writing YA romance and how it’s all about self-love.

Guest post for Bookish on signs you’re in a bad romance.

 

I’ll leave you with one of my favorite quotes from the book:

 

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The Method Part II: Sense Memory & Physical Actions

*This is the second in a multi-part series. To start from the beginning, go here.

 

[image error]Julian Callos’ “Sense Memory” at Nucleus Portland. Find it here.

 

To continue with my series on adapting Stanislavsky’s Method for actors so that we novelists can make use of it, this week’s post is going to focus on sense memory and physical actions. Our desired end to be able to get in the skin of our protagonists (and other characters) in order to authentically display how they are using their five senses and their bodies in the world of the book. We want to produce characters who leap off the page, characters who are so real that even we, the writers, aren’t certain whether we imagined them into being or are simply the chosen vessels of creatures on another plane who want their stories told. This topic can go really deep, so just know that for our purposes here, I’m really only able to scratch the surface of how you can harness sense memory and physical actions as a writer. As I mentioned in the last post, if this is really speaking to you, I can’t recommend taking a Method class enough. Learning how to act – even if you suck at it – will make you a better writer. But hold off on Broadway, for now: we’ve got work to do.

 

Getting In The Skin of Your Protagonist via the Method

The purpose for an actor in practicing sense memory and physical actions using the Method is so that when they’re performing, they’re able to be fully absorbed in the present moment of the scene, able to justify at any given moment why they’re doing what they’re doing and how their character thinks and feels about that. And, just as importantly, being fully present enough to react to what the other characters are doing in the scene, to what’s happening onstage. This where the old adage acting is reacting comes from.

In An Actor Prepares Stanislavsky puts it like this:

 

Whatever happens on the stage must be for a purpose. Even keeping your seat must be for a purpose, a specific purpose, not merely the general purpose of being in sight of the audience. One must earn one’s right to be sitting there. And it is not easy. 

 

One of the biggest notes I give my students and clients is to get in the skin of their characters. Too often I read scenes where characters move for no reason–say, crossing a room for no purpose other than that the writer has noticed the character hasn’t done anything for a while. Even more often, I’ll read scenes with characters who are curiously detached from what’s happening in the scene, which is always the case when a writer it more concerned with narrating the scene rather than being in it. Usually when a scene falls flat it’s because the writer hasn’t embodied the character. They’re too worried about the moving parts. This is a difficult skill to grasp for even the most seasoned writer, which is precisely why the Method can be of enormous use to novelists.

If you’re a Method writer, then you–you–are possessing your protagonist. You’re pulling the trigger, kissing the boy, swimming for your life across an ocean. It’s your sense memory that’s being transmitted to the character. I’ll go into Stanislavsky’s concept of “substitution” in another post, but rest assured that it’s entirely possible to get in the skin of a killer even if you are not one yourself. Regardless of whether or not you’re substituting, the key is to home in on the senses, the ground from which everything springs.

 

Method Sense Memory

Do this for me: bring to a mind a scene in your book. Any scene, it doesn’t matter. Now, close your eyes after you read each of the following statements, take three deep breaths, and place yourself in the scene, in the body of your character:

What does your character physically feel? The cloth on her body, the heat of the sun, the sweat dripping between her breasts? A jolt of unease when the electricity goes out? A tightness between her shoulder blades when she’s about to fight?
What does she see? Not the basics, I’m talking: what does she see through the unique lens through which she views the world? You and I can both look at an apple and see very different things. I might see the bruises, you might see the shine. Does she see the nervous twitch in her enemy’s eye, the small tear on her lover’s collar, the dust motes swirling through the sun?
What does she taste? Are the berries bursting on her tongue, the mint on the leg of lamb? If she’s not eating or drinking, is her mouth dry? Can she taste the wine she had an hour before?
What does she hear? Train tracks in the distance? A bird chirping merrily while she watches her best friend get stabbed? The voice of her mother in the moment before she pulls the trigger?
What does she smell? The tang of blood on a blade? The faint scent of roses, which always signal her dead sister is nearby? The rich, fresh earth beneath her boots?

 

The body remembers. I’ll say that again: the body remembers. You have experienced so much, lived so much. This vault of sense memory is what will allow your character to have authentic sensual experiences on the page. Don’t narrate your characters while watching them from the outside–be them. Go there with them. Feel what they’re feeling, smell what they’re smelling. If it’s cold, a Method actor doesn’t try to “look” cold, shivering melodramatically. Instead, they would think of a time when they’ve been cold as hell, bring that memory to mind in a very carnal way, and coax their body to recreate those sensations. They live in this moment, completely, and this is what the audience witnesses: a character who is chilled to the bone.

 

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Being in the character’s skin means resting fully in the present moment. It’s just you and them and now. This immersion will bring about the immediacy your readers crave. It will help you avoid cliche action and narrative (especially internal narration) and give you space to reach for metaphors and objective correlatives that are precise–specific to your character and how she exists in the world. I know we’re all tired of clenched fists and churning stomachs and swallowing lumps down throats.

A few ways to practice this skill is to simply remember. Take a few minutes out of each day to sit with your eyes closed, breathing through various memories until they are real to you, until you can put them on the page as you experienced them and are now re-aexperiencing them. Then write. Start simple: building a snowman or riding a bike down a hill. Be gentle with yourself and don’t force yourself to go to places you’re not ready to visit. It might not be the time to relive how you experienced your friend’s funeral through the five senses.

Side note: this sense memory extends to setting, as well. I get so disappointed when a writer doesn’t really take me somewhere, transport me. If they’re in Marrakech, I want to know what it smells like, what sounds are unique to the souks, what Moroccan tea tastes like. Again, it requires the writer to go there, to use all of their five senses and report back through lovely descriptive writing, and, of course, through their proto’s skin.

 

Method Physical Action

 

All action in the theatre must have an inner justification, be logical, coherant and real. 

~ Constantin Stanislavsky

 

Your character is sobbing. Okay, she’s sad or whatever, maybe it’s easy to justify sobbing. Except. It’s always, always more interesting to watch someone try not to cry, than to watch the dramatics of the waterworks. A character trying not to cry has a lot going on under the surface, no? It also makes us feel deep empathy for them – we’ve all been there. Is she trying not to cry to spare someone else’s feelings? Or to hide how much she cares about the cad dumping her? Or, let’s say your character is doing something pretty mundane, like tidying up her room. But instead of her justification simply being to get the room clean for a guest, you insert a rich internal justification: she’s cleaning the room because she wants her visiting mother’s approval, and this is just one way she intends to get this approval she’s gone years without. See how this opens you up to so many more possibilities?

So how do you do tap into physical action as a Method novelist?

I actually think other methods do a way better job in this arena, and I’ll talk about that a bit more later, but for now, let’s try a simple exercise:

Pick up a pen. Now set it down. Note any physical sensations or sensory sensations you had. Now think about what you’re going to write with the pen before picking it up. Go there. Wait. Okay, now pick it up. Rest in that intention. Set it down. Again, note the sensations. Now recall the last time you wrote something that was hard to write, but you had to do it. Wait until that memory is very clear. Pick up the pen. Decide you’re not going to write this thing after all. Set it down. Note the sensations.

I hope in this exercise you were able to see the physical changes within you as your motivations for picking up and setting down the pen changed. Most were likely quite subtle. Could you put those into rich experiences into narrative detail while in the skin of your protagonist? See the difference:

Alora picked up the pen and began the letter that would change her life: Dear John…

Alora watched the pen for a moment, hesitating. Choice. There was always a choice. A train sounded in the distance–going somewhere far away, and fast. She reached for the pen, fingers tingling, as though it were bewitched. And wasn’t it? 

To hell with it.

Alora grabbed the pen and, with its solid weight resting between her fingers, she began, the ink sinking into the page. She couldn’t erase this. Didn’t want to. Dear John…

Now, you might think the second example is too purple for you, and that’s fine. Not every single action needs to be laden down with metaphors and similes etc. But I wanted you to see both how the first tells and the second shows, but also how the reader is given an opportunity to get in Alora’s skin in the second example. We feel the weight and gravity of her task, her uncertainty, and the relief in her final rip-the-bandaid-off approach. This is expressed through the senses and through an acutely realized physical action with a strong justification and interiority behind it.

 

[image error]BAM actors using Viewpoints.             Photo credit.

One of my favorite ways to train as an actor and director was using Anne Bogart’s Viewpoints. This is something I had my actors do in rehearsal as we explored their roles and the space they’d be inhabiting, as well as what happens when they share that space with others on stage. In the photograph to your left are actors art BAM using Viewpoints, perhaps the Grid Walking exercise, which is one of its most well-known training modalities.

Viewpoints is not the Method AT ALL, but I bring it up here because of one way they connect, which is in terms of physically embodying a character. If your main character has a limp, practice what that limp feels like in action in your living room, walking back and forth until you get it just right. If she’s a dancer, how does she walk in a way that reflects that? What comes up for you when you walk as your character? Perhaps you realize that she has a habit of snapping along to the music in her head. All of these things provide the rich detail that makes narrative soar.

I think one of our hardest tasks as writers – more so than any other art form except perhaps dance – is that our medium necessitates that we explicitly convey the interiority of our subjects. Where an actor must embody a character to bring them to life (work they do on their own, inside, where no one can see), we have to lay our characters’ inner lives out in broad daylight. But to do that well, we’re not allowed to tell, we must show. And this showing is what brings us in alignment with the work actors are doing. For them, doing a poor non-Method job would be to make their character a caricature through broad actions and general emotions. The subtly that the true art of acting requires necessitates deep internal work on the part of the actor. So it is with us: we are both actor and writer, so we’ve got to work even harder. I hope you’ve found these tools to be helpful for you. I’ll be deepening our understanding of how we can be Method writers over the coming months. Please comment below and let me know how this is working for you, and what you experienced in the exercises.

Break a leg, friends.

 

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As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life and an update on all things bookish. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing! 

 

 

 

The Method Part 2: Sense Memory & Physical Actions

Here is the post I wrote on my other blog... xx

Bad Romance Links Roundup

…

Swoon Reads Guest Post: Me Before Thee

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Last week I wrote a guest post for Swoon Reads: see below for a sneak peak, or head on over to the site.

 

Me Before Thee: Crafting A YA Romance That Puts Self-Love In The Equation

 

If you’re a YA writer, chances are you’ve got some romance in your book. At least, I hope you do: if you don’t, I probably won’t read it. Yeah, I’m one of those kinds of readers. I’m a romantic through and through, and there’s nothing I crave more than love on the page. It’s an addiction (I mean, clinically, I’m pretty sure it would qualify as such): I literally lost weight after a weekend of gobbling up a series, so engrossed in the frenzied state of OH MY GOD WHAT WILL HAPPEN WILL THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER that I couldn’t even stop to eat. (I’ll admit it: Twilight—a problematic novel if ever there was one). One of my favorite parts of working on my books—whether it’s one of my contemporary YAs or my fantasy series—is crafting the love story. I’ve written epic love, quiet, everyday love, doomed love, fleeting love, forever love, and unrequited love. My most recent novel, Bad Romance, is about a girl named Grace who has the misfortune to fall in love with the most enigmatic rock god of a boy (at one point, she says she’s pretty sure she won the boy lottery), only to discover that he’s cruel and manipulative—controlling and mercurial in the best of times. I wish I could put a warning label on you, she’s says in the book’s second-person narration.

 

[image error]Bad Romance is unique for me in that it’s not a book about falling in love (that happens in the first few chapters), but a book about falling out of a love. The suspense and tension revolves around Grace’s struggle to be free of Gavin, and the dangerous consequences of loving someone who refuses to let you go. Though it’s an anti-love story, it’s also about discovering that self-love is the most important part of any romantic equation, and that your girl squad is ten times more valuable than any boy (or girl) that sweeps you off your feet. Like all of my books, it was important to me that this relationship was a springboard for Grace’s personal evolution—and revolution. Even in my books where the couples make it, such as I’ll Meet You There, the key is that there is no white knight that saves the day. My girl protos always have to untangle the mess inside themselves on their own and realize they’re whole with or without the boy in question. They have friends—good friends—who are truth tellers, supporters, cheerleaders, and bullshit detectors. They have passions and dreams that sustain them or, as is the case in my debut novel Something Real, my girls need to find their passions before the love story gets fully sorted out. In the vein of chicks before dicks, it’s very me before thee.

 

One of my biggest pet peeves in YA novels is when the romance takes precedence over the protagonist’s internal journey, whittling down her kaleidoscopic self so that the only thing that matters about her is her capacity to get or keep a boy. This only reinforces the misconception so many teens and women have, that their self worth lives and dies with their relationship status. Any novel worth a damn is about people who are significantly changed by the adventures they undergo in the novel. That change is always internal and this results in the external changes that bring the story to its completion. If the whole novel simply revolves around the drama of whether or not two people will get together or which boy the girl will choose, it’s not doing its primary job, which is to help its readers human better. Whether your proto is the Mother of Dragons without a king or a girl grappling with her sister’s unexpected death and the weird attraction she has to her dead sister’s boyfriend (The Sky Is Everywhere—sooooo good), it’s important that her journey is on a trajectory that does not depend on her love life.

 

This can be really hard when the whole concept of your novel is a break-up book about teen dating violence, as mine was. In order to make Bad Romance work, I had to make sure that Grace had her own issues to deal with outside of the relationship and that her romance did double-duty, working as a vehicle that forces her to look at those issues head on, whether they are internal or external. Grace has a terrible home life where her mom is in a bad romance with Grace’s cruel stepfather and Grace experiences abuse on many levels from both parental figures. Almost all the men in her life have failed her. She has big decisions to make about college and friendships and she struggles to figure out how to trust herself. When a sweet boy who is the exact opposite of Gavin comes along, Grace has to make a choice about what kind of person she is: to cheat or not to cheat?—that is the question. Her relationship with Gavin isn’t just about falling in and out of love with someone and dealing with the day-to-day abuses in a bad romance. It’s a place where she learns the lessons her mother is not able to teach her: how to stand up for herself and shift an unfair balance of power, how to advocate for her wants and needs, how to choose herself over the people she loves when the people she loves are toxic. Through her relationship with Gavin, Grace is forced into a dialogue with her own fear, insecurity, and uncertainty. What she learns with Gavin is applicable to her life outside their relationship, lessons about her self-worth that she will apply every day for the rest of her life…..

To read the rest of the post, head on over to Swoon Reads! 

 

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***As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life and an update on all things bookish. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing!*** 

Me Before Thee

wrote a guest post for Swoon Reads: see below for a sneak peak, or head on over to the site.

Me Before Thee: Crafting A YA Romance That Puts Self-Love In The Equation

If you’re a YA writer, chances are you’ve got some romance in your book. At least, I hope you do: if you don’t, I probably won’t read it. Yeah, I’m one of those kinds of readers. I’m a romantic through and through, and there’s nothing I crave more than love on the page. It’s an addiction (I mean, clinically, I’m pretty sure it would qualify as such): I literally lost weight after a weekend of gobbling up a series, so engrossed in the frenzied state of OH MY GOD WHAT WILL HAPPEN WILL THEY LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER that I couldn’t even stop to eat. (I’ll admit it: Twilight—a problematic novel if ever there was one). One of my favorite parts of working on my books—whether it’s one of my contemporary YAs or my fantasy series—is crafting the love story. I’ve written epic love, quiet, everyday love, doomed love, fleeting love, forever love, and unrequited love.…

Five Strategies For Dealing With Comparison

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Comparison is, more than any other topic, probably the number one thing that writers (and women of all stripes) struggle with outside of the work itself (although comparison often rears its ugly head when we sit down to write too). My battle with comparison has led me to have some serious social media fasts, deep dives into meditation and spirituality, and a fair percentage of my income spent on self-help books. These are all really good things. You should go do them.

End of blog post.

Okay, fine, I have more to say on the subject.

Method Writing Part I : Emotional Recall

*This is the first of a long series that I’ll be working on over the next few months.

I am a theatre nerd.

I mean, just the fact that I insist on spelling it with an “re” should tell you that. My undergrad degree is in theatre, where I focused first on acting, then on directing. I’ve directed and produced shows in LA, and had my own theatre company, as well as stage managed and assistant directed in various places. I know Les Mis, Rent, and Hamilton by heart. Well, I get tripped up on some of the rapping in Hamilton, but whatever. I want to cry when I hear The Decembrists’ I Was Meant For The Stage. I nearly died when I got to take a picture with a statue of Bertolt Brecht outside the Berliner Ensemble. I am obsessed with Jacques Le Coque and if you even know who that is, we are kindred spirits.

Yes, I am that much of a dork.

I walked away from working in the theatre seven years ago, deciding for both financial—and, I’ll admit it, mental health—reasons to be a different kind of storyteller. I haven’t looked back, though I do get a little wistful whenever I step into a tiny black box theatre that smells like paint and dust and magic. And, okay, I might have to write a play one of these days. (Oh, shit, I’m going to go back, aren’t I???).

A Writer Prepares

For a long time I’ve been wanting to write about the lessons novelists can learn from the Stanislavsky System, also known as the Method. HUGE DISCLAIMER: I vehemently disagree with modern-day applications of the Method in acting and, while I’d love to really get into why I find it to be problematic at best and abusive at worst, I suspect only some of you would appreciate me standing on that soapbox. Let’s just say I’m a Viewpoints / Meyerhold / Le Coque girl, for any of you who are dying of curiosity (so, like, three of you). That being said, I love so much of what Stanislavsky says and I recognize that when the Method spread to the US, a lot of it was warped and taken to extreme levels. I can’t think of any better resource than Stanislavsky when it comes to building a character. Diving into his original work will serve you best.

 

[image error]Konstantine Stanislavsky

For these reasons, the Method is an excellent tool for writers who need to get into the heart of their characters and are struggling to do so. The Method can help you really embody your character and use your imagination to build her from the ground up as a fully real and complex human being and to dig into your own emotions and life experiences to “be” your character as you write her. One of my mentors uses the phrase “getting into the skin” of a character—she doesn’t mean this in the Method sense, but it can be taken that way. You aren’t writing outside your character, watching her and reporting. You are the one running for your life, killing the villain, finding that magic ring. This is the territory we’ll be exploring in this post.

Quick history lesson: the Method evolved out of the writings and teachings of a Russian actor and director named Konstantin Stanislavsky, who established the Moscow Art Theatre. There are several books he’s written still in print, Building A Character and An Actor Prepares perhaps his most widely read books. He was trying to create more realistic theatre, less melodrama and more kitchen drama in terms of how his actors approached their roles. Meaning, he wanted the actors to feel the emotions their characters were experiencing, so as to truly bring them to life, rather than use the broad techniques that were common at the time (he was working in the latter-half of the nineteenth century). His hope was that not only would this help actors create a character, but it would allow their performances to be fresh every night onstage. A great tutorial in this would be to watch Shakespeare in Love, which hilariously demonstrates actors who tried to “look” frightened by imitating what they thought a person who was afraid would look like, but who were not connecting to any real emotion (as in, recalling a time when they themselves were afraid and working with that emotional memory while they’re onstage in a scene). Contrast the broad performances of the characters who play actors in Shakespeare’s day at the Globe with Gwyneth Paltrow’s performance in the movie as Romeo and you’ll see the difference between what acting was and what Stanislavsky believed it could be.

 

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The System relies on your personal emotional topography and your imagination, as well as a commitment to deep work on building your character. This is where you might think of the phrase “what’s her motivation?” Your character kisses that stranger in the street—why does she do it? If you were a Method actor, you would dig into her past in order to bring that to the performance: is she kissing random men because her father never gave her the love she needed? Is it because she feels that in order to be seen she has to give pieces of herself away? Etc. There is a real fusion here between acting theory and psychology, but that’s a whole other can of worms that you can have fun picking through if you wish. Stanislavsky’s goal was to create true, believable characters, not archetypes, and he built a System in which actors could do just that. His actors would do intense rehearsal (unheard of at the time, when actors just stepped into roles with little prep), “homework” on their characters, and going through the emotional beats of each scene. What is she—what are YOU, the actor, who is her—feeling now? And now? And what about now?

Another way to look at this: it’s the difference between saying, “My character wants to kiss him” and “I want to kiss him.” I because you have fully embodied this character so that you are now her. Of course, you aren’t really abandoning yourself—in the Method you must simultaneously be intimately yourself in order to be this character, drawing on your own emotional reservoir so that the two can co-exist. You are, in effect, your character’s host. You disappear.

When his ideas were brought to the US, where the Method is the predominant form of actor training, people began to take this to extremes. You hear stories about actors who “are” their characters for all of the filming or stage run, even when the cameras aren’t rolling: the rumors about Heath Ledger and how his approach to building the character of the Joker in The Dark Knight led to depression and increased drug use (he died of an accidental overdose after the film wrapped). Jack Nicholson’s abuse of fellow actors while filming One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. Marilyn Monroe was a Method actor, the work a danger to her already fragile psychological state (My Week With Marilyn illustrates her Method work very well, with Michelle Williams, another Method actor, in the title role—there’s a great interview with her and Charlie Rose about her process that you should check out, if you get the chance). Daniel Day-Lewis has been known to not break character for the entire filming process, including when he’s not on camera and supposedly learned Czech or didn’t bathe for three months for other roles. Method actors can often not help blurring the lines between their work and their reality and this is often to their peril. I’m by no means an expert in all manifestations of the Method, but—fun homework—if you have actor friends, talk to them about their process as they build a character.

This is going to be a series of blog posts over the next few months, so I’m just going to focus on the first of Stanislavsky’s strategies in the Method and show you how you can use it for your writing. To get a quick overview of the Method, you can go here.

 

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Emotional Recall (aka Emotion Memory / Affective Memory )

In this strategy, an actor would recall a time in their past where they felt the way their character is feeling in a given scene in order to have an authentic emotional experience. So, for example, my character is crying and deeply upset over the fact that her boyfriend has killed himself. In order to feel this way, I would need to come up with a time where I felt similarly, since I never had a boyfriend who killed himself. Method training would say that in order to portray this character authentically, I’d need to go there emotionally as an actor. So, in order to produce a great performance of a young women in the throes of grief, I relive the trauma of my grandfather’s death—a time where I felt as devastated as I imagine my character to be. On stage. Every night. (Perhaps you can see why I find this to be an unhealthy form of acting training).

What this is intended to produce is an emotionally true and visceral experience that will communicate effectively to the audience, as well as the other actors in the scene. It’s Natalie Portman embodying the Black Swan in Black Swan (a cautionary tale on Method performance if ever there was one). Because my emotion over my Papa’s death is real, it will also be felt as real to the audience and cast because they are witnessing a real person experiencing real grief as though it has happened for the first time. You can imagine the imagination and psychological work that needs to be done to get an actor to this state. Cue my acting class PTSD. I don’t think this is healthy and I would argue that you can use sensory and muscle memory to get there just as effectively, but, then again, I’m not a successful actor or director, so take my two cents with a grain of salt. I will say this: when it’s done right (as in, by an actor who can control their emotion so that it doesn’t run off the rails), it is indeed a powerful thing to behold. Many actors would say this effect is worth the price of admission. For writers, it’s much safer because you would only be diving deep into your pain when you’re writing and revising the scene, not going there every single day for the entire rehearsal process and run of a show—sometimes twice a day, if there’s a matinee!

So. How do you do this as a writer? And how do you know it’s even necessary to go there?

If you’re getting feedback (from others or yourself) that a scene isn’t working or that your character is narrating instead of living her story, you might need to use a little emotional recall. Let’s pretend you’re writing The Hunger Games. You’re writing Katniss and you’ve never lived in a post-apocalyptic America, never had a situation where you had to make the ultimate sacrifice for a sibling (volunteering as tribute in the Hunger Games). So how do you get Katniss’s alchemy of rage, pain, hunger, determination, love, and protectiveness on the page?

 

The Non-Method Way

 

Emotional Recall is an extreme move, so it’s important that you first try to do things the old-fashioned storyteller way: embodying your character by being with her step by step.

What this looks like:

You keep checking the emotional beats of the story to make sure she’s showing up sentence by sentence. Is it just choreography on the page, with your character moving methodically through the scene’s action and dialogue, or is it rich with internal turmoil that’s expressed through metaphors and action that is precise and particular to her and her world? Is your character running the show, or are you, the writer, sneaking into the pages by enforcing the plot, imposing it on her rather than letting her act and react organically as the story unfolds?

 

If you’re struggling to get into the skin of your character, try these exercises: 

Do side-writing (writing that might not end up in the book, but that you need to better understand your characters and story) to get more of her backstory in your bones. Maybe you would write the scene where Katniss’s father dies, or the moment Katniss decides that she will be the one to hunt for and take care of her family. By the time we meet Katniss, she’s already a badass who has providing for her family on lockdown. How did she get that way? Perhaps Suzanne Collins did this side writing that we never see—but we feel it, don’t we? Katniss is a fully realized character who is wholly a product of the miserable world she lives in and the circumstances of her life. She didn’t just pop onto the page that way. I’d wager Collins had to sweat a little to birth such a headstrong character who is so very good at hiding her soft spots. Other side writing options are journaling as your character or write in verse.

Other ways to get into your character’s skin include building playlists that help bring her to life for you, watching movies with characters that are different manifestations of her, collaging or doing some other art form, and taking long rambling walks with a trusty notebook in your pocket. I think music is especially powerful because it allows you to mainline whatever mental state you need to access. Get yourself out of the way and let the feeling guide you.

Sometimes, that doesn’t work. Sometimes a character is a nut that’s just too hard to crack. And so we go to our dear Stanislavsky in our time of need.

 

Being a Method Writer: Emotional Recall For Novelists

My caveat: please don’t do this emotional recall with something that you haven’t already worked through. You don’t need to suffer for your art, and it’s simply not healthy. It could also result in shitty writing, if you depend on it too much. Going down your own personal rabbit hole instead of your character’s may result in overwrought prose or cause you to lose sight of your character because now you’re so caught up in your own shit that you’ve begun projecting things onto her that don’t jive with who she is.

 

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Let’s go back to our Hunger Games example. Let’s say you need to write the scene where Katniss volunteers as tribute. Intellectually, you know she loves her sister and will do anything to protect her. But let’s say you can’t seem to “feel” the scene. It’s not hitting the emotional target. So you push away from the computer, close your eyes, and take a few deep breaths. Center yourself, as though you’re Jennifer Lawrence, about to walk in the Hunger Games set. When you feel grounded, clear of the whirlwind of thoughts in your head, think back to a time when you have been so desperately scared for someone else, that you would have done anything to protect them. If you have something like this, great. If not, then just think of a time in your life when the stakes were super high and the outcome hinged on a decision you had to make.

We call this “substitution.” You substitute the character’s situation for one of your own, but one close enough that it will produce the same result. Now—and this is the messy part—relive that situation. Recall the nuances of your emotions, recreate it in your mind so that your muscle memory and recollection fuse until you are in roughly the same state you were when the event you’ve chosen to bring up from your past actually happened. Now, turn to your computer and write.

It’s really important that after you finish your writing session that you take some time to release yourself from that memory and emotion. Do a few minutes of calming breath and a bit of self-care. As you’ll see, this isn’t for everyone and it’s certainly not something to turn to all the time. This is what you do when all else fails. And it won’t work for everyone. I am much more effective using muscle memory for basic states (anger, fear, sadness, joy) in the tradition of Théâtre du Soleil and my work with the Actor’s Gang theatre company in Los Angeles, as well as my work in Viewpoints and kinesthetic awareness to create a state of hyper sensitivity (thereby increasing my capacity of empathy) than Method work. Or I use music to launch me into those states and allow the nuances of, say, fear, to arise as I write.

I suggest that if you are going to use emotional recall, that you use it on really pivotal scenes: your character’s origin scene, a major turning point, the climax rather than every little scene that comes along. Go deep, and go there when it counts the most. This should then open you up and allow you to get where you want to go more organically in the less intense scenes.

If you try out some Method writing, let me know how it goes! In the comments, share what works for you to get into the skin of your character. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done to get authentic emotional beats on the page?

 

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As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life and an update on all things bookish. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing! 

Setting Intentions

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This past weekend I was meditation retreating it up on the Upper East Side (not a Gossip Girl to be found!) with my fellow MNDFL meditation instructor trainees. It was a soulful weekend of sitting, mindfulness, and budding friendship. One of my biggest takeaways was how important it is to set intentions–as a meditation teacher (and writing coach), but also in our daily lives (and writing lives). I’ve been committing to doing that over the past week and I’m already finding that it’s a real game changer. Waking up and setting an intention for how I want to feel or be in the world for the day gives me structure and focus. There is no danger of overwhelm, since I am simply choosing joy or focus or openness or empathy or whatever I feel that day should be led by. I’ve seen a marked effect on my mood and how I interact with others and I’ve written way more words than I have in recent weeks. The to-do list, while still as mammoth as ever, doesn’t leer over me quite so much. At the end of the day, instead of assessing its value based on how much I did or didn’t do, I simply ask if I lived intentionally.

If I chose courage for that day, did I approach my scary new book with that in mind, sitting and writing even though the siren song of “speedy-busyness” was blasting in the background? Did I say that hard thing or look at that part of myself I’d rather not face? Choosing an intention for the day is a holistic, empowering effort and it’s a way of being firm yet compassionate with yourself. If you find that you’re all over the place emotionally right now, and/or if you’re struggling to sit down and write (or struggling when you DO sit down and write), setting an intention beforehand might be just what you need.

 

What This Looks Like In Practice

 

Every morning when I get up, I ask myself: What do I choose today?

For many of the days this week, I’ve chosen joy. I choose joy. It became a mantra. If I sit down to write and I feel overwhelmed: I choose joy. It’s hot as fuck and I have to walk across half of Manhattan to get to an appointment or class that I’m pretty sure I’m late for already: I choose joy. (And iced coffee). An editor passes on one of my books: I choose joy. I get the Death card in my tarot deck (yes, I did–cosmic timing never fails): I choose joy. 

In my writing, it meant that I allowed myself to write what I wanted to. I let myself have fun–joy–in putting words on a page. I banished editors, reviewers, my Internal Critic (named Harriet – a total Victorian schoolmarm sourpuss), and all haters from my office. I was kind to myself and didn’t allow my worries and anxieties to take center stage. I fell into the story, into the character’s skins, and into the deliciousness of working from a place of personal power.

Choosing joy, for me, also meant finding ways to lighten the day’s load. I created a list of what I call “uplifts,” which are there for me in emergency FUCK I NEED TO CHOOSE JOY BUT I FEEL NO JOY situations. Here are some highlights from the list:

have a spontaneous dance party
make and send something to a friend
read Shakespeare out loud
play with my dog
read a picture book
write a poem
10 minutes of lovingkindness meditation
make soup
plan a wished-for trip that I will take some day

 

[image error]Choosing Joy with a spontaneous dance party

 

Intention is everything when it comes to writing. Why you sit down is almost as important as what you put on the page.

This led me to thinking about process and about how my process is currently all over the place right now, as I sort my way through transitions and artistic metamorphosis. I was experiencing a little anxiety over the fact that my old process wasn’t working (choose joy!), but also allowed myself to simply be curious. Curious about myself and process and how to do this writing thing. What were other people doing? Rather than go to my usual standby, the delightful and inspiring Daily Rituals, I decided to ask the ladies of the Pneuma Creative Facebook Group I run. My friend, authoress J.M. Rinker, wrote a lovely post on her own process in response, which can be summed up in my favorite line from the piece: “No process. I just do shit.” Ha! But, of course, her process is that she actually does the work, and finds ways to stay in it and return to it, no matter what life brings her way. A simple intention to choose the work goes a long way.

Homework: I haven’t actually read beyond the first few chapters of Danielle LaPorte’s The Desire Map (my TBR pile is going to kill me one of these days, I just know it), but I really love her idea that you need to focus on how you want to feel, rather than on what you want to do/be/achieve. This ties in with intentionality and what we choose. I think this is an excellent and healthy way to shift our focus. The truth is, the most unhappy I’ve been was when I literally had everything I pretty much ever wanted. So clearly the desire to publish a book or whatever isn’t necessarily going to be the key to one’s happiness–or, at least, not mine. Moving forward, I’m trying to focus on how I want to feel, not on achievements or other things that are largely outside my control and often far more empty than we realize. If I want to feel joy, then I figure out what brings me joy and I go and do that. This is really radical, especially if you’re a Type A Capricorn like a certain writer I know.

If you’d like to work a bit more in depth on this idea of intentionality, you can download a free preview of The Desire Map and the audiobook here – and hopefully I’ll have finished it by the end of summer and we can compare notes! Scroll to the end of her PDF sample to see her fabulous list of 150+ positive emotions. This should make setting your intentions easy-peasy.

 

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Today, I’m choosing focus, which means that as soon as I publish this post, my ass will be on the meditation cushion and then back in the chair to work on my book for three hours before I do anything else: no exceptions.

What will you choose today? Let me know in the comments!

Happy Writing, Camerado.

xo H

 

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As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life and an update on all things bookish. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing!