A.L. Michael's Blog, page 10

Dinner Party Etiquette for Writers: No-one Cares About Your Novel

Don’t think I haven’t heard it, that glum sigh when someone asks what I do, and I tell them I’m a author. You know why the sigh? Because they think I’m going to bore them for the next forty five minutes with the epic tale of my latest masterpiece, pausing along the way so they can nod and tell me how brilliant I am. Then they’ll blandly say ‘that sounds really interesting,’ and I’ll say ‘well, it’s hard to explain but it’s better when you read it.’

Except I don’t do that, because it’s DIRE and AWFUL and no-one wants to interact with people like that. So normally I make a joke about being poor, and they make a joke about being the next J.K. Rowling (and I don’t go into a long rant about how she’s the exception to the publication rule) and we return to talking about the weather, or accounting, or something that isn’t my work. Easy.

I am a big fan of not talking about your WIPs. Or even outlining your novel. Even when people ask what it’s about, they don’t actually want a four page synopsis. They want an X meets Y approach: ‘Yeah, it’s like Indiana Jones, but set in space.’ ‘Oh, well it’s kind of like Romeo and Juliet, but between McDonalds and Burger King employees.’

I often give the advice to keep your stories close to your chest, especially when they’re in progress. Partly, because I think ideas are precious, partly because I think that energy and passion should be channeled into writing them down instead of talking about them. And partly because I’m doing dinner party guests across the country a massive favour. It’s the equivalent of sitting there and talking about how your kids are the best kids ever for an hour. Except at least when that happens, you give other people the chance to but in and talk about how great their kids are. You can’t do that, unless you’re in a room full of writers.  And you can’t expect other people to know that’s what’s going on, so you’re going on about your epic fight scene (that you haven’t written yet) in chapter thirty four, and the woman next to you can’t exactly jump in and go ‘oh yes, my son Marcus has excellent swordmanship. He beheaded two goblins last week!’

The context doesn’t fit. And here’s some smart thinking- these people may buy your book if you remain that mysterious author who gave them a brief snippet of what you’re working on. If you’ve told them the whole thing, they’re not going to give a crap. Even if it is interesting to them, who buys a book when it’s been narrated to them all evening by someone who isn’t Stephen Fry?

However…yes, I will admit, there are moments when it’s good to talk about your work. What I’m talking about here is sharing your passions, talking about who inspires you, who you want to be like, what you want to achieve.

I don’t really talk about my books when I’m writing them, occasionally give a brief outline, usually about a sentence. But I’ve started talking about my research, the work I’m doing on my MSc, working with writing and body image, and eating disorders. When you’re passionate about something, and you’re learning about it, you want to share it, and suddenly everything becomes relevant. Whilst I’d still say reigning yourself in at dinner parties is important, sharing the seeds that have sent you on your path, the things that have inspired you in your work can often bring great connections and contact with people you never would have met.

So share your passion, your inspiration, your fire…just, don’t give away the ending. Because it may surprise you.

Tagged: authors, inspiration, novelists, writers, writing tips

Writer’s Tips for Getting through The Slump

Two days ago I freaked out. I have an 80000 word book due at the end of September, and as of last night I’ve done 16000 words. I have an essay due. I have some editing. I have a lot of crap to write, and all I could do was clean my house and sit blankly in front of my laptop having an anxiety attack. So then I’d go for a run, or go to the gym. Or clean some more. And then panic some more. Then I’d send a freaked out email to my editor telling her how panicked I was. Then I’d moan at my writer friends.

Did any of this help me write the book? No. (Although both my editor and writer friends made me feel better!)

So here’s some things I did to deal with The Dreaded Slump:

Change your environment! (I went to sit and work in Cinnamon Square, which is one of my favourite places to write)
Treat yourself to something delicious (Somehow, cake makes writing easier. I swear it’s scientific)
Write for fun- do some random writing tasks, some freewriting, or write from a different character’s perspective for a bit
Know that you’ve got through this before, and it always feels like shit sometimes.
Know that you are incapable of judging your own work at times like this.
DO NOT EDIT. Rush on through like a train- no stopping at pointless stations!
Remember you used to do this because you LIKE writing, you like the story you’ve got!
Deadlines can be changed, just don’t leave it- make sure you’re still writing.
Read something you love, and remind yourself that stories are great!

I’m back on track with the writing now. Am I still panicked about the deadline? About the word count? About not having enough hours in the day? Yes, of course. But I’m enjoying writing again. And I have cake.

Tagged: almichael, author, creative writing, if you dont know me by now, novelist, prompts, top tips, writer tips, writing

Is All Writing Therapeutic Writing?

Is all writing therapeutic? I’m pretty sure it isn’t. When talking to writer friends hacking away at their novel, or stressing over edits, or rewriting that same conversation four times because it just doesn’t flow correctly…well, no, that doesn’t sound therapeutic.

But maybe it is.

These last few days I worked at Larmertree Festival in Wiltshire, running creative writing workshops. This is something I have been lucky enough to do for the last five years now, and I love it. Last year, I introduced ‘Writing for Wellbeing’ workshops for the first time, and this year I ran two, which were quite popular. I also ran a few standard ‘Creative Writing Workshops’ and a Kid’s workshop. And what did I realise? All of them, in a way, are focused on wellbeing. They all include the principles of a Writing for Wellbeing workshop.

These included, group dynamics, feeling safe enough to share or not, using our own history and stories as ideas, being supportive of the other group members, being playful with your writing.

What else did I learn? Any prompt can be a trigger. You don’t know what people are going through. As I’ve been running wellbeing groups, I’ve been very careful to be a facilitator- I’m in the ‘therapeutic’ state of mind. But standard creative writing groups don’t deserve anything else- their prompts can also hurt or upset people. Just because we have made the distinction in our mind doesn’t mean that the effects aren’t the same. I chose an incorrect prompt, simply because I thought ‘standard creative writing’ workshops weren’t capable of the same power as wellbeing ones. And that’s not true.

There is something about responding in words that makes us feel certain things- lists make us feel certain, or determined, or sometimes more confused. Recipes make us feel guided, or perhaps a little rebellious, eager to make them our own. Reviews, rants, letters, complaining emails, twitter posts…all these little ways of expressing ourselves in words have an emotional reaction. If they didn’t, why would we do them?

So as a facilitator, my lesson here was to pick things that can be engaging without overwhelming- my context is not everyone else’s. Think carefully about what you bring into the room. But also, even when I’m slogging through writing a bit of a novel that seems rubbish, or writing a rambling blog post…I feel better. I feel expressed. And maybe that’s the point. Any writing can be powerful, as long as we let ourselves connect.

Tagged: creative, creative writing for therapeutic purposes, creative writing for wellbeing, larmertree festival, novels, writing

On Not Pleasing Everyone: A Writer’s Lesson

I am at the point in my writing career now, where I finally know how I feel about everything.

In the last two years, I’ve had five books published. For a year and about nine months of that time, I’ve thrown around the following qualifiers when someone says ‘oh, you’re a writer?'”

‘Yeah, but I only write chick-lit. Nothing important.’

‘Yeah, but, you know, it’s nothing special. Just stuff for me.’

‘It’s not serious work or anything.’

‘It’s not literature that’s going to change the world or anything. It’s silly, really.’

What’s changed about the last couple of months? Well, nothing. I still say that, except I wince and tell myself to shut up afterwards. But what I’ve realised, both through the bad times (painfully personal bad reviews) and the good times (a surprisingly bountiful royalties cheque) is that what I’m doing has worth, because I do it for me.

Am I incredibly lucky that people like my books? Yes. Do I love that I have ‘fans’ or readers who get what I’m trying to do? My goodness, yes! But the only way I can sleep at the end of the day, knowing that my stories are out in the world, being digested, judged and possibly criticised, is to know I did it for me. I wrote something I enjoyed writing, enjoyed editing and reading back.

I am an incredibly fussy chick lit reader, I always have been. There are lots of storylines I don’t like, characters I can’t get behind. I don’t like dreamy, fluffy lit. I don’t like anything that involves cheating. I’m not a massive fan of the ‘falling in love with the best friend after a bazillion years’ (although I can occasionally be persuaded).

So I write what I like to read, stuff that’s sarcastic, cynical, argumentative. Where everyone comes up with witty one-liners immediately (instead of three weeks later, like I do), and people go after what they want because they deserve it.

So why do I tell people that my work has no meaning? Would I have written five books if it meant nothing to me? No. Obviously not. I tell people it’s worthless so I can get in there first, before the inevitable questions of ‘well, when are you going to write real books?’ or ‘aren’t you a bit embarrassed to be writing that stuff?’ (Yes, I have had both these questions.)

Here’s what I’ve learnt: You can’t please everyone. I recently saw a review where someone couldn’t bear to finish my book because it wasn’t fluffy and romantic enough, and you know what I thought? Thank goodness. Because I hate that style. Being a writer is the same as being a reader- it’s a matter of taste. It wasn’t someone picking apart where I put the commas, it was someone going ‘you know what, this isn’t my sort of thing.’

There are people who put bad reviews on my favourite authors, people  I consider to be masters. We made E.L James a millionaire! There’s no accounting for taste, or style, or talent. The only thing we can do is write things we want to write, things we want to read, things we can be proud of.

And that’s the biggest, most painful part: to put this poor, defenceless novel out in the world and with a small, quiet voice say I am proud of this.

Speaking of which, my latest novel If You Don’t Know Me By Now, is available now on Amazon.

5 Ways Creative Writing for Wellbeing Can Help You.

Most people don’t really know what I’m talking about when I say ‘writing for wellbeing’, but it’s pretty simple: writing to feel good. I often descibe it as yoga for your creative muscles. So whether you’re a writer, a thinker, a day-dream believer, Creative Writing for Wellbeing has something to offer you.

1) You’re a writer

Perhaps you’re a novelist, or an academic. Maybe you’re feeling a bit swamped with work, a little overwhelmed? Perhaps the creativity isn’t flowing as you’d like it to? Try some fun and engaging activities to wake your brain up, get you thinking and creating again. How is that different to a standard creative writing workshop? Nothing to prove. The writing doesn’t need to be good. What matters is how you feel about the writing.

2) You’re stressed

Creativity is a great stress reliever, and play is ridiculously beneficial. So if the English weather is stopping you from running off the weight on your shoulders, why not write them away?

3) You don’t like writing

Most people who don’t like writing actually like stories. Watching movies, reading books, talking to people. These are all forms of stories. Often those who hate writing have a negative association with school and the dreaded red pen. There are no red pens in writing for wellbeing. There’s no wrong. No corrections on punctuation or grammer. Hell, you can draw your stories if you want! What matters is how you feel.

4) You’re a fan of mindfulness/yoga/meditation/self-help

You get what this is about, and here’s a new and exciting way to get down to the truth of you, discover new things, unearth lovely memories and come away with something you’ve created.

5) You’re stuck in your batcave.

Whether writer or not, sometimes it’s hard to motivate ourselves to get outside and interact with people, especially when now we can rely on technology. Writing for wellbeing is about connecting, to yourself and others. It can be really lovely to hear other’s stories, and will often awaken ones you thought you’d forgotten.

If you think you might like to give Creative Writing for Wellbeing a go, I’m running a workshop on Friday 22nd May, 6pm-8pm at Friern Barnet Community Library, as part of the Finchley Literary Festival. It’s only £15 and you can buy tickets HERE

The One Thing You Need to be a Real Author- and it’s not Talent!

My friends enjoy talking about writing. I enjoy talking about writing. Recently, I got to meet up with some lovely authors who are with my publisher, and we had a jolly time chatting about everything from family and holidays to writing and inspiration. It was all so normal, for someone to say ‘oh yeah, that actually features in my next book!’

It’s a well known adage in the self-improvement world that you should surround yourself with people who have the same goals as you- who want what you want. It keeps you motivated, keeps you positive and driven.

A few times over the last couple of weeks, whilst I’ve been pulling my hair out being past my deadline on my current WIP, people have asked my HOW I write. And it sounds like an arsehole answer, but you sit down and do it.

A few friends have pointed out that they have brilliant ideas, but never get around to writing it. Maybe they don’t feel they can do the idea justice, maybe it’s just too complex.

I am going to be honest with you:

I do not have the best ideas. I write about what I like. I write the sort of stuff I read. I steal things from life without even realising until later. I am not a genius. My ideas are not new and daring and unusual.

What makes me an author? I am persistent. I write a book until I finish it, even if it’s crap. Then I do what Steven King said, and I put it away in the drawer for a while (a long while if it really is crap!) and then later I bring it out and I fix it.

There is no talent in this. There is no particular skill, or craft, or anything beyond sitting down at a desk and doing what my job demands of me. That is what you have to think about. It is all very well having wonderful ideas, and being very clever. But your choice there is clear: do you want to write snippets of very clever things that give you joy, or do you want to sell books?

Sometimes, you can do both. And I’m not denying there’s craft involved, and you need ideas. But the truth is, if you can block out doubt, block out anything else that would stop you, and just rely on persistence, you can be an author.

An author is just someone who has written a book. And when you’ve done it once, you know you can do it again. So why not write one crappy book, learn that you are capable, and then trust that the second one will be better?

Talent and ideas are not what you need: just sit down and write.

Prince Charming- is perfect just a little boring?

After seeing the latest reincarnation of Cinderella last week (very pretty, not so much with any interesting backstory added, which was what I was hoping for) it’s made me wonder: Why must we beautify our princes?

This isn’t a post about masculinity or any of that crap, it’s literally the fact that a very handsome, and very (usually) talented actor Richard Madden (The One True King of the North) was stripped of any rough edges or…dare I say it…personality. We often have a whinge about the feminist issues surrounding princesses and fairytales, and when I work with kids I think it’s my responsibility to make sure the main character is something more than just beautiful. She’s kind, or she’s clever, or she’s determined. But why aren’t we doing this for our princes?

Teeth whitened, eyes brightened…personality dulled.
Here, rugged and not perfect but certainly more interesting.

Charming (Or Kit, as he’s actually given a name) exists as the answer to Cinders’ problems. Sure, he’s got a little drama going on with his dad wanting him to marry a princess instead of a commoner, but really, we all know the old dude’s gonna cave in, in the face of True Wuv.

I know it’s a fairytale, and that the love story is really just the icing on the cake, and I know I was probably not the main audience for this (considering the alarming number of Disney store toys that this movie has created) BUT where is the drama? Even in Enchanted, a delightful cinderella-esque story, the Prince started out as a little bit of a smug ass who had no idea what his kingdom was really like. And we liked him for that because he GREW and CHANGED as a person by the end.

Maybe it’s because Prince Charming doesn’t interest me. Don’t get me wrong, Richard Madden interests me A LOT. But where was he in this? They shaved and shined, and whitened and brightened so much that it was like a living doll version of a human. No flaws, no details, no strangeness.

My current leading lady in my WIP is someone who studied English Literature and then fairytales. She knows they’re false, that they’re stories to teach and amuse, but it’s changed the way she looks at love. No, she doesn’t want the fairytale necessarily, but everything else in the real world looks a lot less dramatic. A lot more plodding. But flaws make us who we are!

This is a lesson I’ve got to take into my own writing, as often my female leads are in a time of transition, and their male counterparts have already had their issues and now (mostly) have their shit together. Is that fair? No, but you try writing two neurosis-filled characters into a love story. You’d spend most of the time with them being awkward and apologising at each other. So I hereby declare, I’m going to allow my leading men to be dicks sometimes. Because that’s real life. And we still love people when they’re idiots.

Let’s try appreciating some flaws, Hollywood. Because that’s where all the interesting stuff is.

Tagged: carina, cinderella, harlequin, novels, stories

The Catch 22 of Writing a Novel- Prioritise!

My deadline for my current Work In Progress was meant to be Wednesday. I am just over a quarter of the way through, so that’s clearly not going to happen. Which sucks because I was so excited to be writing this book, but also because I prided myself on being on of those ‘reliable’ authors who could meet deadlines. It’s on my CV and everything.

Was this extended deadline due to my inability to plan my time? No, not really. What it was down to was my inability to prioritise my creative work over my immediately paid work. In order to write, you need to survive. In order to survive, you need money. In order to have money, you need to work. In order to work you need time. And time is what you need to write a book.

The hilariously irritating thing about this catch 22 is that if I put my paid work on hold, and focused on writing books, within two years I might be completely self-sufficient and only have to do the extra paid work for additional money.

It’s a creative catch 22- and it’s pretty damn difficult to get out of. Unless you live at home rent-free, or you have a day job that you can leave behind when you get home. Or you’re capable of being creative when you’re panicking about your electricity bill.

So what’s the answer here? Obviously, we have to work to survive, but whilst it’s difficult to prioritise creativity over standard work, the lesson here is to remember that they are both work. One may be enjoyable, but the point is that it is not selfish to do your work. Sometimes, your creative pursuits will have to come above other people, enjoyment, connecting, family, fun and a bunch of other important stuff. But if you were willing to prioritise your paid work for those things, then you should prioritise your creative work too.

Now, I’m getting back to work!

Aligning Planets, Aligning Dreams: How to be an efficient creative being.

I didn’t see the eclipse this morning. I was lying in what felt like the world’s most comfortable bed, in the most gorgeous hotel, having drunk a leetle too much champagne the night before and simply breathing. I lay there in this comfortable bed and thought ‘Ah, I remember this. This is what it feels like not to worry.’

I am a worried. I am also a planner, a schemer, a long-term investor, a busy body and someone who gets rundown easily. I am possibly the worst person to be self-employed. I do maths, I make charts- ‘How can I increase my efficiency?’ ‘Can I squeeze in any more hours this week?’ ‘How much more can I get done if I learn to be happy with six hours sleep a night?’

This is not the right way to be efficient. Or creative. Or a human being that other human beings want to be around.

This is the way to a nervous breakdown and a heartattack before I’m thirty.

So as I lay there in this very comfortable bed, doing nothing but ruminating and breathing, I thought to myself ‘Why am I panicking when everything seems to be going right?’

I wonder if you ever have this sensation too? That you are so full of dreams and hopes and plans that they never feel like they’ll get there soon enough. And by the time they arrive, you are too busy worrying about the next plans to fully enjoy them.

This, I believe, is about alignment. On my MA in Creative Entrepreneurship, I was required to write a five year arts and business plan. This was meant as a tool to equip me on my writing career. It had contacts, it had aims and goals and ways of achieving them. But nowhere in that plan did I factor in the astonishing realisation that whilst you’re working towards these goals, life is still happening. Life doesn’t stop to let you catch up, or get ahead. I could sit here and work out that x y = 13 books a year, and how much a % commission is and what likelihood it is that I could write full time…but you know how my time would be better spent? Writing book 5. And letting book 13 work itself out when I get there.

I spend a lot of time tutoring kids in analysing Of Mice and Men by Steinbeck. It’s a brilliant book, and often the essay question the kids get is: ‘Explore the importance of dreams in the novel.’ It throws them, because they can’t see any dreams in the novel, no-one’s asleep and imagining crazy things, no-one’s looking up at the Hollywood sign and saying ‘I’m gonna be a star’ (although one character thought that, once). It’s a landscape of failed dreams and unachievable goals. But here’s the catch, the important thing was to have a dream. To let it nourish you, to give you strength to get through another crappy day where nothing seemed to change. To let it be your lullaby when your weary head hit the pillow.

My lesson here, dear readers? Dreams should be invigorating, they should give you purpose and movement and strength. But they are no substitute for real life. Let your dreams inspire your life, but let your life be more important than your dreams. Work hard, play hard and BE PRESENT. Only then, can your creativity align with your passion. I’d also recommend mindfulness, and I’ll be posting some mindfulness writing tasks next week for those of you who want to be more present in your present!

Tagged: business, creativity, eclipse, entrepreneur, health, MA in creative entrepreneurship, mindfulness, writing

Re-authoring your story: What’s your writing identity?

My interest and specialisms when it comes to writing tend to cross over a bit. I’m an author of romantic comedies, I’m a student of creative business (mainly in how writers survive financially) and I’m training to be a creative therapeutic facilitator.

My main area of study at the moment is narrative therapy and its uses in helping promote positive body image and self-esteem. But in learning about narrative therapy, I find it really crosses over with how we see ourselves as writers (and how our readers see us.)

Narrative techniques basically get us to tell our stories- creating an order, a narrative and identifying themes and the importance of events in our lives. It’s about looking at our own lives the way we look at our fiction, teasing out the reasons, the hero’s motivations and those moments that really mean something. By looking at who we are within a narrative (and how we choose to cast ourselves- as a hero, a villain, a clown) we can see how we feel about ourselves. Self- knowledge is always powerful for a writer. Both in terms of feeling comfortable about their own work, and in being able to market themselves.

That’s where this crosses over with the creative business: branding. We have to know what makes us interesting in order to get readers hooked. Sure, if the book is good enough, the writer will become invisible, but if you want people to keep reading your books, if you want to have fans, then you have to have a story yourself, instead of just the ones you create.

Our narrative isn’t always our whole self, it can be a part. It doesn’t make it fake, but it’s about finding the parts of you that connect to your work, and that back up your experience. What’s more intriguing to you, a burlesque-dancer-turned-author who writes erotica, or a gardener who writes women’s fiction? You’re writing in your genre for a reason. In self-development books, you’re often asked to identify your why. And here’s the reason for that: who you are determines what you do. That’s fairly straightforward. If you’ve decided to write crime fiction, likelihood is, there’s something there that can be cultivated into a good reason as to why, beyond ‘I like it.’ Maybe you had an Agatha Christie themed birthday party as a kid, maybe there was a mysterious death in the family, maybe you read Harriet the Spy and never quite got over the dream.

When you introduce yourself to people, you’re interacting with your personal narrative- think about what you tell people, and why you tell them those particular things. All stories exist within contexts. You don’t tell your new boss that you’ve got eight different skinny dipping stories set in different countries. But if you write steamy novels, that might make a good hook.

Identify your ‘why’ and use it!