R. Scott Boyer's Blog, page 16

Writer’s Block Isn’t Real

Here’s an interesting article on writer’s block, written by Chuck Wendig, first posted on his blog at terribleminds.com. It’s a bit long (I personally think several of the categories can be clumped together), but also quite insightful, with thoughtful analysis of the common causes of writer’s block as well as excellent suggestions to keep you moving forward. It’s a great read, but also be warned – there’s quite a bit of bad language.

WRITER’S BLOCK MIGHT BE:

I don’t believe in writer’s block anymore than I believe in, say, Bigfoot, the Loch Ness monster, or a UFO-load of butt-probing, almond-eyed, macrocephalic aliens.

That said, I believe that when people see those things, they’re usually seeing something. Bigfoot might be a bear, or a loose chimpanzee, or my Uncle Dave. The monster at Loch Ness is probably a log or a sunken vessel. Those aliens are probably your old college buddies pulling a prank on you, or maybe a hallucination from when you ate that really old lunchmeat and assured your family, “No, no, it’s fine, it’s supposed to be slimy and move of its own volition across the counter.”

And so it is with writer’s block. I do not believe in writer’s block.

But I do believe that all kinds of people get blocked about all kinds of things.

Writer’s block is a thing in name only. And we give it power by naming it. Worse, we give our own power away when we fail to see it for what it really is. See, writer’s block manifests in a number of ways, and it’s very important to understand the root cause of the mental and emotional obstacle that feels like it’s preventing you (because it’s not really preventing you, unless your version of Writer’s Block is some big dude who sits on your hands so you can’t type — once again I must apologize for my Uncle Dave). The notion of writer’s block has a vibe of doomed romanceand starving artist to it, suggesting that we all share this common experience of being held off from our own gracious poetry. Writer’s block must mean I’m a real writer! Horseshit. It ain’t romantic. It isn’t your doom. Get shut of that idea post-haste.

So. If writer’s block isn’t writer’s block, just what the fuzzy, fizzling fuck is it?

…LACK OF CONFIDENCE IN YOURSELF

Problem: You don’t believe in yourself or your ability to do this work well. Your vision of the work in your head fails to match the execution on the page. I used to watch my aunt paint watercolor and think, “YEAH SHIT BRO I CAN DO THAT,” then I’d try and it would look like I splashed gray garbage water on a once-nice piece of paper. And so I gave up because of the unrealistic expectation that I held for myself. We are frequently holding ourselves to unrealistic expectations and that fucks us up. The pressure builds a wall between us and the work.

Solution: Care less. Calm down. You’re not curing cancer. Enjoy your ability to suck. Realize we all suck when we begin (and often throughout). Recognize that sucking during a first draft means that later you can come up behind your own shitty manuscript like a motherfucking editorial ninja and snap its neck and then use its blood to redline the work to make it better. Very few people are awesome the first time they try something, anything, and yet we’re trained to believe that writing is easy. “Just write,” people offer as their reductive writing advice, which makes this sound as easy as taking your first steps as an infant — and maybe it is, but also remember the infant only managed six first steps before taking a header into the dog’s waterbowl. The way through this block is to write. Write through your lack of confidence and write through your limited ability. Writing through the suck is how you get better at it.

…DOUBT IN WHAT YOU’RE WRITING

Problem: This thing you’re working on just ain’t working. It’s not writer’s block. It’s the material. Something wonky is hiding in the various gears and dongles of your wordsmithy. You halt because you instinctively recognize that you’re charging forth into an uncertain reality, as if you went back in time and stepped on a butterfly and now you’re back and something feels wrongand you can’t tell what it is (hint: Hitler is president and we all have two butts).

Solution: A few ways to go here. First, say “fuck it,” keep writing. Act like nothing is wrong. Persevere and write through it and eventually the solution may present itself. Or: stop writing forward and start looking backward. Flip through and see if you went wrong somewhere, if there’s some moment in the story where you feel like you took it in a wrong direction, or see if you can spot a plot-hole whose heretofore-unseen absence of logic has been haunting you like a gibbering ghost rising from past pages. Or: take a good long long at the story. Is this really the story you wanted to tell? Is this your heart, minced into narrative, or is this the story someone else wants you to tell? Sometimes writing to a market or to another person’s expectations feels unnatural, like we’re wearing someone else’s underwear. It’s halting, jarring, unpleasant — and it can lead to creative blockage. Here, I’m afraid the solution is to go and write the thing you really want to write. The thing that speaks to your storytelling soul. The thing that is your blood on the page.

…UNCERTAINTY ABOUT WHERE THE STORY IS GOING

Problem: You’re running around like a car-struck squirrel, tail pinned to the asphalt, little scrabbly-paws carrying in you in endless circles. You’re lost. Lost in the story same way old people get lost on the Internet. (“AM I HOME YET.” “No, Grandpa, you’re on Tumblr watching animated GIFs of Castiel from Supernatural.”) So your mind protects you by doing what it knows best: sheltering in place. It tells you to hunker down. Help will come. Hang out here for a while where no words are being written. Feels like writer’s block, but what it really ends up being is your inability to move forward due to dire uncertainty in the tale at hand.

Solution: Some people are into this kind of mystery. They like putting on a blindfold and barreling through an eventide forest just to see what’ll happen. They like writing without any sense at all of what’s happening. You might not be that person. You maybe think you are, but you might be like me, instead: a pantser by heart, a plotter by necessity. I can be paralyzed by not knowing where to go next, which is why I prep ahead. And during. And after a draft. And that, there, is your solution. Plan! Prep! Draw a fucking map before you leave your house. Outline before you begin, or outline during the writing, or outline retroactively to see where you went and how you’ll do differently on the next draft. If you feel like you’re in the dark with a broken flashlight, then plot out your steps. Many authors gain confidence by knowing that there is still a story ahead of them and that they haven’t just written themselves into a brick wall.

…FEAR OF FAILURE

Problem: You have already designed your failure. It exists as a hilarious Rube Goldbergian blueprint inside your mind — the orchestration and execution of your ultimate stupidity. This mechanism clicks and whirs and in its robot voice reminds: They’re all gonna laugh at you. They’re gonna dump pig blood on you at the Prom. You fool. You hilariously deluded fool. Fear is a powerful thing, especially fear of failure. We fail at things in life and particularly as a kid and the world is not always kind to failure, is it? People do laugh. Or mock. Or teachers give us a bad grade. Or parents chide us and yell at us to do better. And we learn from this that doing better is only an act driven by the need to not be punished when really it needs to be driven by our own love of of seeing improvement and our desire to manifest what it is we really want to accomplish. When it comes to writing the problem with failure is that it’s internally-driven. Nobody’s going to give us a grade and so we have no metric. The only one punishing ourselves is us, and we are the cruelest judges and most shame-inducing critics — perhaps as a way to undercut our own future failures, to pre-punish for our as-yet-unseen rejections. In this way, we allow fear of failure to creep in the door. And by opening that door, we become our own worst enemies. Our fear stops us cold.

Solution: Psst. Psst. Failure is fucking amazing. Failure is an opportunity: to try, to learn, to do it all over again with a greater sense of awareness and confidence. Rejection is a beautiful thing because rejection is scar tissue formed in battle. Rejection is proof you’re fighting and not just sitting around with your nose up your own ass. Failure is armor: every time you fail you build a new layer of chitin to protect yourself the next time. Learn to love failure. Fail as many times as it takes to succeed. Writing is a job with as many chances as you need; our books live in a Groundhog Day reiterative existence where we can redraft and redraft as many times as we need to (outside the external pressures of deadlines and the like). Success is just the tip of a mountain — the highest peak built on a bedrock of failure. Failure is essential. Quash the fear. Write till its right.

…FEAR OF SUCCESS

Problem: Oh, fear, you tricksy fucker. Fear of success? Is that a thing? You bet your sweet cocaine-dusted nipples it is. We can fear various aspects of success: we might fear that success will up the stakes too high and we won’t be able to live up; we might fear that our success won’t be enough or won’t be something we can repeat; we might be secretly certain that we don’t deservesuccess. It’s easier to just stop where you are. Success is scary. It levels up your game and comes with a whole new host of pressures. And that can freeze us out of our own writing.

Solution: Relax. Stop thinking about success as external. Don’t worry about validation from anyone but yourself. Set a metric for success that includes you, and only you. Stop worry about things you can’t control and set your meter to include only those things you can control. Realize that a writing career — hell, a single writing day — is a thing with many peaks and valleys. Do you deserve success? Who gives a shit? If you get it, assume you worked for it and that you deserve it. Anything else is whispers from a demon. (And, that demon might be named “depression” — more on that pecking, thieving magpie-of-doom in a few minutes.)

…BURNOUT

Problem: You flared up and burned out and now you’re naught but a crispy charcoal briquette. Your internal creative space looks like what’s left after a house-fire. You’re tired. Exhausted, even.

Solution: Jeez, take a break. Step away from the story or I’ll Taser you right in the naughty bits. Go reward yourself for working so hard. Have some ice cream. Go for a walk. Build a Lamborghini from the bones of your enemies. Don’t go away from your story for too long. A few hours. A day or two or three. We spend a ton of IEP (Intellectual Energy Points) on our work and our life, so go, recharge, let your creative juices once more pickle your headcheese. Then get back to work with fresh eyes. Bring coffee. Because coffee.

…OTHER PEOPLE GETTING IN YOUR HEAD

Problem: People can be poison. This is not true of everybody, but most writers know folks whose sole purpose seems to be quietly stabbing you with invisible knitting needles — shitty jerky fucky fuckers who prefer to diminish than build up, who are dire cynics but prefer to present themselves as helpful realists, who want to remind you again and again what a bad awful no-good idea writing is, either as a career or a hobby. Over time, this is erosive, corrosive. It gets into you. Eats at you. And when you go to write, it’s their doubting voices you hear. Not your own.

Solution: SPACE THEM FROM YOUR AIRLOCK. Watch them scream soundlessly while spiraling into the blackness of space. Translation: KILL THEM. … whoa, wait, no, I mean, uhhh, translation: cut them out of your lives. If you can’t cut them out for whatever reason (it’s your mother, your drug dealer, your dog), then you need to build a resistance to them. They are iocane powder and you must not let them destroy you. Try talking to them. Try letting them know that they’re hurtful instead of helpful. If that fails: hit the ‘ignore’ button and walk away.

…JUST A CHEAP EXCUSE TO NOT DO WHAT YOU NEED TO DO

Problem: Mmmmyeah, you’re lazy. Sorry! You say, “I have writer’s block,” and yet, there you are on social media or you’re playing World of Warcraft and you don’t seem to be trying very hard at all. Reality is, sometimes writer’s block is just an excuse. It’s an easy and acceptable one, too. You’re not writing, people ask why, you tell them you’re blocked up like a colon. And they nod, because they’ve heard about this dreaded writer’s block and gosh, it must be bad. And the trick is, writer’s block still makes you feel like you’re a writer. It’s something writers get. You got it. Well, you must be the real deal. Except, you’re not trying very hard to get unblocked, are you? Because it’s much easier to talk like a writer then to do the actual writing, innit?

Solution: Stop fucking around. Stop lying to yourself and others. Super-glue your derriere to that overturned bucket you call an office chair and refuse to stand until you’ve written. Full stop. Game over. The only thing you get to quit is quit making excuses.

…DEPRESSION

Problem: You think you have writer’s block. In reality, you’re depressed. I don’t mean that glibly, like, oh, eye roll, you’re depressed, womp womp. I mean, you join the oh-so-many creative types who suffer from some variant, some gray goopy flavor, of depression. The thing is, depression is invisible. You won’t see the bleak, black sword through your heart. You’ll feel it, though, and it’s very easy as a writerly type to mistake this sensation as some kind of creative block. And then you go about treating it the wrong way. You think, well, I should just write through it, and while that might work for several of these other variants of creative blockage, it almost certainly will only create a multiplicative effect in terms of depression — meaning, it’ll hurt instead of help. Because you can’t just force depression, you can’t just shoulder your way through it like you’re Hercules slogging up a muddy hill. In this case, writer’s block is a symptom of a larger concern. You have to treat the disease rather than the result of the disease.

Solution: I am not a doctor (to which you all collectively gasp). If you worry that you might be depressed, it is at least worth talking to a counselor, psychologist, psychiatrist, or family doctor whereupon I assume (though am not assured) that the solution will be some combination of talk therapy and medication. What I do know, again, is that you’re not alone. It’s important to remember that. It’s important to remember that depression is a real thing, not just some cartoon stormcloud hanging over your head. It’s not an excuse, it’s not self-doubt, it’s not lack of outlining, it’s not your story, it’s not writer’s block. Acknowledge it. Call it what it is. Because unlike writer’s block, once you’ve named it, you can now work on destroying it. And that is the most vital part, I think: depression is woefully common, but the truth remains that the only way forward is to treat it. The only way out is through. Address it. Acknowledge it. Recognize you’re not a mutant, not some freak, but rather part of a rather large collective of folks. And at the end of the day know that if you want to be a writer and you suffer from depression that this must be dealt with or you won’t get to be the writer you want to be. And that is truly sad.

…JUST A BAD DAY

Problem: You’re just having a shit day. We all have them. Fuck it.

Solution: Go do something else. Just for today. Come back to it later. You shouldn’t have too many of these free days, of course, because if you do, that says that something bigger is going on, some larger obstruction that must be addressed. But sometimes the obstruction isn’t big. Sometimes it’s just: today sucks, tomorrow will suck less, walk away from the Writing Machine and go do some other stuff for the moment. See you back at it in 24 hours, yeah?

Michael Crichton’s Method for Plotting Out a Story

I’ve started following several blogs by other writers posting about the processes of creative writing, publishing, and selling more books.

I found the following article on writershelpingwriters.net and thought it was worth sharing. It’s an excerpt from the book Writing Made Easy: How to Develop a Tight Plot & Memorable Characters by epic novelist, screenwriter, and creative writing instructor Dorothy Cora Moore.

Some of us come into this world predominantly right brained and, because of this, the telling of a story and dialogue comes more easily to us. However, the same cannot be said for plotting. I was warned of this when taking a career designation program at UCLA in motion picture arts and sciences.

One of my screenwriting instructors had won awards, and was a no-nonsense instructor. In fact, he could be cruel to some of my classmates. One evening before class he told me:

“Dottie, you are good at telling a story, as well as writing natural dialogue . . . but people like you always have a problem with plotting. If you cannot master this, you will have to write with a partner!”

Michael Crichton’s method for plotting out a story is what came to the rescue. After I learned his simple technique, I had to agonizingly throw away two-thirds of my original screenplay and start over.

As you may know, Michael Crichton was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1942, and passed away in Los Angeles, California in November of 2008. He was not only a successful author, selling over 200 million copies of his books worldwide, but he was also a successful film producer, film director, screenwriter, and television producer.

If there is one thing we all know, it is that Michael Crichton certainly was a master at working on more than one thing at the same time. He even had the unique distinction in 1994 of becoming the only person to have the number one book in sales, Disclosure, the number one television show, ER, and the number one film, Jurassic Park, all in the same year. That was quite an accomplishment.

Michael said he developed his 3″ x 5″ index-card method of plotting out a story while going to Harvard Medical School, and he did this before writing one word. He needed to supplement his income by writing books under a pseudonym, and this is how he did it.

The cards were easy to take with him every day to class, because they would fit effortlessly in his shirt pocket or in his lab coat. As ideas came to him, he would just jot them down on a card. If a long sequence with dialogue came all at once, he would merely staple those cards together.

At the end of the day, Michael would throw the cards he had used in a shoebox, and replace them with a fresh batch of blank cards for the next day.

Michael said that when the shoebox was full and nothing more came, he would take all the cards out of the box, lay them out on a large table, and rearrange his plot by shuffling the cards around into the order he wanted to tell the story.

Once he was satisfied he had a good plotting sequence, he would walk away and let the cards sit for a few days; going back to the table from time-to-time to reread his story’s plot. New cards would be created, and then slipped into the layout where he wanted to set something up that would happen later. Slowly he let the process work, and when nothing more came that day he would, once again, walk away.

After several days had passed without adding any more cards, Michael would carefully pick up the entire sequence, and place the stack in an index-card box. Mission accomplished. He had his plotting outline.

Now, whenever he had some extra time, he could sit down, pull out the first card in the box, and begin writing the first paragraph of his story. The hard part was over, and he could be creative. His plot was tight, and his story would not fail to hold a reader’s attention or go off in the wrong direction.

When a writer has a tight plot, he or she has what they call in the publishing industry a page turner.This is what we all want to create. If you have more than one story in your head you want to develop, all you need are two separate shoeboxes, with a working title stapled to each.

As you may already know, writing is 90% thinking and 10% getting your story onto the page, in that we are always thinking about our story. The most important thing is not to allow ideas to flitter away, because we did not take the time to write them down. So please save yourself the agony of losing a good story idea. Just get some cards and keep them with you.

We cannot all be as exceptionally gifted as Michael Crichton, however, we can certainly learn from him. Now we all know his method for keeping his projects separated and organized, and that is a great start. All we have to do is apply his technique.

Yes, I know it isn’t easy, but a great big door has just been opened for you. Now all you have to do is walk through it. Do you think you are ready to start plotting out your next story?

Great! Go get those cards.

- See more at: http://writershelpingwriters.net/#sthash.EK24i2ry.dpuf

“Was” and the Variation of Sentence Structure (Past Progressive vs. Passive Voice)

Recently, I began mentoring a friend who wants to write a book. Since I am also planning a writing workshop for the kids at C5LA, who I will be visiting this July at Camp Paintrock in Wyoming, I’ve decided to pull together some tips and suggestions for novice writers.

I plan to make this into a series, with a focus on a different nuance of writing each post. In the future, I hope to touch on topics such as telling facts versus showing emotions, maintaining POV, and the difference between good grammar and writing well, to name just a few. I will also gladly take suggestions, so feel free to post your ideas below.

And now on to the first topic: That dirty word ‘was’ and the indicators of passive voice.

When I began taking writing classes back in ‘06, one of the first bad habits my instructor pointed out to me was my constant use of the word ‘was.’ In my first workshop, he circled ‘was’ five times in just two paragraphs. Since forms of ‘to be’ are a common indicator of passive voice, I got confused as to why my professor had circled all those iterations. I began believing that ‘was’ automatically indicated passive voice, and therefore needed to be changed.

Of course, that’s simply not true. While the various forms of ‘to be’ are a common indicator of passive voice, their presence is not the definition. Instead, passive voice results from switching the subject with the object of a sentence such that the action is performed on the object, rather than by the subject: “I hit the ball” (active), becomes ‘The ball was hit by me” (passive). For a detailed explanation of passive versus active voice, see this wonderful article by Grammar Girl.

So where were all those ornery ‘was’s coming from? The answer revolves around the use of the past progressive tense versus simple past tense. The real irony is that I didn’t realize this until I started reading the first chapter of my friend’s story, and discovered the exact same phenomenon my teacher pointed out to me years ago: ‘was’ sentences everywhere. I tried to explain to my friend about passive versus active voice, and realized that I didn’t completely understand it myself. That, in turn, led me to discover the real culprit – past progressive tense, which uses ‘was’ + verb-ing as it’s basic structure. The student became the teacher, only to become the student once again.

(Another big irony is that the progressive tense felt ‘active’ to me, which is why I confused it with the issue of active versus passive voice.)

I don’t want to get too deep into a discussion of grammar or proper tense usage (Lord knows I’m no expert), but I will offer this advice to people who find their writing littered with any variation of ‘to be’: try combining the progressive clause (“He was calling for help”) with a simple tense clause (“He ran through the forest”). The resulting sentence, “He ran through the forest, calling for help,” eliminates the ‘was’ in the original sentence. It also provides an excellent opportunity to layer in additional details with minimal intrusion (“He ran through the forest, calling for help and screaming at the top of his voice.”)

Keep in mind that sentence variation is important, and that any excessive pattern is likely to lull your reader to sleep. Also, sometimes ‘to be’ is a perfectly acceptable. Just make sure it’s an informed decision. Is it progressive, or is it passive? Combined those progressives where you can, and rewrite those passives. And most importantly – keep writing, keep reading, and keep learning.

Building A Series (Using Locations as Characters)

At some point during the process of writing my first two books, I struck upon a surprisingly simple, yet potent idea: to use a famous and/or legendary location as a major character in each story. Almost by accident, I set up Bobby Ether and the Temple of Eternity to explore the mythical Fountain of Youth. After delving into the plot and discovering the immense power possessed by the fictional Mayan temple I created, I quickly realized that I had a strong formula for future books as well.

Because metaphysical ‘spiritual’ energy is a major theme throughout my books, I researched monuments and other ‘supercharged’ settings steeped in myth as possible backdrops for book three. Places like Stonehenge, Shangri-La, and the Lost City of Atlantis quickly sprang to mind. Ultimately, I settled on what is perhaps the greatest, and most mysterious, manmade structure ever created––the Great Sphinx.

For anyone not currently aware, evidence of water erosion on the Sphinx has led to a heated debate in recent years, with many highly respected scientists theorizing that the Sphinx predates Egyptian civilization. Finding a way to take this surprising theory and weave it into a compelling story is the foundation for book three, tentatively titled Bobby Ether and the Great Sphinx.

If the Egyptians didn’t build the Sphinx, then who did? What is its purpose? Is there something buried beneath it as many scholars claim? These are just some of the intriguing questions I wove into the story, while continuing to advance the arch of Bobby’s development. I’ve also tied in a few current events, such as the Arab Spring revolt––with a unique twist on how they impacted (or were impacted by?) Bobby’s adventures.

The fun doesn’t stop there. I’ve also been sketching ideas for book four, using the same formula of tying in powerful locations and historical events. I’m currently exploring elements relating to Alexander the Great and his collection of occult artifacts curated at Constantinople/Istanbul. At some point, I plan to shift the story to World War Two, where Heinrich Himmler’s SS led the Nazis in their own crusade to obtain occult objects. The story will likely transition at some point to Odessa, Ukraine, were I will once again tie in current as well as historical events, making use of the underground tunnels beneath Odessa as a backdrop for Himmler’s operations as well as Bobby’s modern day adventures.

I hope you enjoyed this update and insight of what’s to come. As my work with book two winds down, I’m eager to further explore the vast array of legendary locations that can set the table for future stories. As always, I love to hear from my fans. If you have any thoughts, suggestions, or feedback on where Bobby and his friends should go, feel free to post them here, or send me an email at scoby27@yahoo.com.

Drabbles

A good friend of mine and aspiring writer, Melissa Grabowski, recently wrote an interesting article about a type of writing I’d never heard of before called a ‘Drabble.’ I found it quite interesting. These mini-stories remind me of the traditional Japanese ‘Haiku’ form of poetry, and I love the examples in the article. Way to go Mollydee!

Check out the feature below, or see it in all its original glory on GERM Magazine, whose Editor-in-Chief, Jennifer Niven, is also a dear friend.

HOW TO WRITE A STORY IN 100 WORDS, By Melissa Grabowski

I was introduced to author Michael Brookes through one of his horror stories. He is an excellent writer, and he was doing something on his website I’d never seen before: Drabbles. Little did I know that Michael and I would become friends. Through him, I met Jonathan Hill, the king of drabbles. He has written many books, among them 100 One Hundred Word Tales and Beyond One Hundred Drabbles.

So what exactly is a drabble?  To quote Jonathan Hill, “A drabble is a piece of writing precisely 100 words long.  A challenge to write, but fun to read, they often tell a tale with a twist or encapsulate an idea or emotion.”

As I read both of Hill’s books, I became a huge fan. His stories run the gambit of emotion from  hysterically funny, to sad, to make-your-blood-run-cold, to better-look-over-your-shoulder, to make-you-stop-and-think. With Jonathan’s encouragement, I began to write drabbles on my book blog. I’ve written thirty-five to date.

It’s challenging work– you need to tug at the heartstrings or inspire terror in a short time to really pull off this kind of writing.  It’s also a great exercise in editing, in getting to the heart of what you’re trying to say by trying to say it in as few words as possible.  You could even use it as a tool when writing a short story or novel– first create a drabble as an exercise to figure out the core of your story.

And, as with almost anything, the more you do it, the better you become.

I encourage you to give it a try. (Note to writers age 12-22: see Germ’s Week One Writing Challenge to submit your drabbles!) But beware: drabbles are like potato chips. You cannot write just one.

Here are two of mine:

A Chat

“Do we talk now?” she asks him. “What is there to talk about?” “Us.” “I don’t trust you anymore. I just exist. I hate life. I pray to sleep late. I do not enjoy television. It is like watching a black hole. I want to… the only thing I can count on is going to work and coming home.” This breaks her heart because it is all her fault. She knows his job has a high suicide rate. She is scared. If she never leaves the house, she can count on what he says, going to work and coming home.

It’s Your Call

She watches the snow fall. It has a calming effect on her. But she does not know how her night will progress. Can she make plans? Sure! Lots of books to read. She can watch television downstairs and play with the dog. It is very quiet and still here. Sometimes comforting to her, sometimes unnerving. She thinks about him. How her night goes always depends on him. With all the arguing lately, she is looking forward to a one-person slumber party. She looks at the snowfall again. The phone rings– he will not be working. She is happy and sad.

Melissa Grabowski, or “Mollydee” as her friends call her, is a Registered Nurse who had to stop working due to medical reasons. She was not able to read for fourteen years because of her medications, which made her lose focus and concentration. Last June, she was blessed with getting better, and was able to read once again. This led to blogging and meeting many wonderful authors (such as Jennifer Niven!). When she is not reading or blogging, Mollydee is working on her own book. She has been a Steelers fan since the age of eight, loves the winter, keeps a garden in the summer, and loves crafts. She has been married for thirteen years to the best man in the world and hopes to return to Nursing one day.

Editing and Discipline

Hello everyone. It’s been a while since my last post, so I thought I’d take a moment to be in touch with all my wonderful readers and give you an update. I am currently in the middle of editing book two in the Bobby Ether series, entitled Bobby Ether and the Temple of Eternity. I’ve been at it for about a month now, and anticipate it will take another month or two before it’s ready for publication. Assuming that I’m happy with this latest draft (This is only my second draft. I did six drafts of book one), you can expect the sequel to be out sometime in late Summer or early Fall.

In the meantime, I thought I’d share with you some thoughts about editing, discipline, and the task of going back over something you’ve already written, especially when you’re inclined to want to work on something else.

To me, editing is the exact opposite of creative writing. When I create a new story, it’s all about moving forward. Often when I’m working on new material, I allow myself to type without filter. The goal is not to nail every detail, but to explore what happens next. Naturally, I go back and tweak what I wrote, but the urge to advance the story is the main driving force.

With editing, I can’t (and shouldn’t!) move past a paragraph, sentence, or even a single word, unless I’m satisfied with the result. For this reason, the process of proofreading can grind to a halt when I find something that doesn’t ring true, and I can’t easily discern how to fix it.

It’s at those times that I rely on the backbone of virtually all successful endeavors.  I am talking, of course, about discipline.

Discipline is the flipside of the creative coin. It’s the self-restraint to focus on what needs to be done, instead of just what you want to do. It’s the glue that holds creativity together, separates good from bad, and hones good into great. Last, but certainly not least, it’s the mental fortitude to avoid distractions.

OK, so how is discipline accomplished in writing? A dear friend and fellow writer, Jennifer Niven, once told me that it’s all about B.I.C., an acronym which stands for ‘Butt In Chair.’ I couldn’t agree more. The simple act of being at my computer with a word doc open on the screen, is the number one way I move forward with a project. No TV, no playing with my dog, no checking emails, no reading updates about the Lakers on my iPad. (OK, so maybe I do those things too, but I start at the desk, trying to work before I devolve into distractions).

Even at this very moment, my mind races and my heart aches to continue writing book number three (I’m halfway done!). It’s discipline that keeps me focused on editing number two. Speaking of which, it’s time for me to get back at it.

Before I go, I want to offer this advice for those of you with creative projects of your own: If you’re struggling to create, the answer is typically a (not so simple) matter of spending quality time with your story (For more on this topic, check out my blog on The Pool). On the other hand, if you’re struggling not to visualize, but to either write, or refine, something you’ve already created, I challenge you to commit to B.I.C. Exploring the Multiverse may also help. Either way, good luck to all of you with your own creative projects. I hope you find both the inspiration and discipline to pursue your dreams.

Camp Harmony

As people close to me know, one of my favorite pastimes is doing volunteer work, especially with kids. Over the years, I’ve been involved with a variety of programs, including YMCA summer and winter camps, basketball coaching, mentoring, and a several others. Since I just returned from a fabulous three-day weekend spent working with kids at a place called Camp Harmony, I’m going to diverge from my normal posts about creativity and writing and tell you a little bit about this amazing program. I hope you enjoy learning about Camp Harmony, and I invite you all to learn more about their program at unitedinharmony.org and be sure to check out the video at the end of this post.

I first came to Camp Harmony back in 1999. It was a breezy Friday in late July, midway through the weeklong summer camp. My plan was simply to visit with my father for the afternoon to see if I wanted to be more involved the following year. That all changed, however, once I got to camp and saw the amazing program and the incredible impact it has on the lives of the underprivileged children it serves.

There is a narrow gully than snakes its way down the middle of Camp Hess Kramer, the residence camp just off of PCH near the LA and Ventura border, where Camp Harmony is held. Spanned by half a dozen bridges, this slender creek stretches out the distance between locations, with the dining hall and most of the activity areas at one end, and the cabins and campfire area at the other.

As my father and I drove into camp, we found the main volunteer coordinator sitting on one of these bridges, reaching through the metal railing, clutching a young African-American girl who claimed she wanted to jump (don’t worry folks, it’s only about five feet to the dry riverbed below). Everything worked out fine. Still, what a start, right?

My second camp experience (Occurring literally within seconds of the first), was assisting a pair of counselors with a runaway camper. As I made my way towards the cabins, I looked up to discover a young Hispanic boy barreling down on me at top speed. Over fifty yards behind, his two counselors gave chase, yelling, “Stop that kid!” as they hurried to catch up.

Normally, you’re not supposed to grab a kid, but a kid running from his counselors warrants action. I jumped in the way, wrapped my arms around the kid, and sank to the ground where I waited for his counselors to catch up (thoroughly gratefully and even more thoroughly out of breath).

It took nearly ten minutes to calm the kid down and convince him that trying to hitch a ride on PCH was not the solution to homesickness. For lots of people, that time might have also been spent pondering questions like, “What have I gotten myself into?” and “How soon can I leave?” But, despite the rough start, I knew there was something special about Camp Harmony––something that, even in its darkest hour, makes it a magical place to be and an amazing program to be a part of.

Unlike that kid, the thought of running away never crossed my mind. See, I knew that these kids weren’t truly having a bad time, they just didn’t know how to deal with the myriad of emotions rushing through them. At Camp Harmony, kids who often face extreme hardships in their daily lives, get a chance to escape from these challenges and just be kids.

For them, relocating to a rural environment filled with trees, birds, and other small animals, can feel like being transported to an alien planet. Thankfully, the high school kids who act as counselors, do a fantastic job keeping the campers engaged and excited. Meanwhile, support staff (adult volunteers like me) help run various programs, such as swimming, basketball, arts & crafts, cooking, drama, soccer, and many, many more.

While the daily activities are fun, meals are by far the biggest highlight of camp. For kids who often don’t get enough to eat at home, three healthy meals a day is a big deal. Taco dinner is always a big hit, as is spaghetti, and the barbeque chicken. However, pizza night definitely steals the show. There’s even a pizza song that all the kids know by heart and sing constantly during camp.

That night at dinner, I told the volunteer coordinator that, not only was I not scared by the day’s drama, but that I wanted stay the night, rather than return home with my father as planned.

Having come straight from work, I had on a dress shirt, slacks, and loafers––all of which made me ill equipped for camp. Thankfully, my father had an old pair of tennis shoes (two sizes too small), and a spare jacket in the trunk of his car. I ditched the shoes within the hour (my toes couldn’t handle the pressure), but the jacket served me well.

Not expecting me to sleep over, they gave me a room that evening with no linens, towels or sheets. I didn’t want to bother anyone (I figured the day had been long enough), so I balled up the jacket to use as a pillow and took down the cloth shower curtain to use as a blanket. It definitely wasn’t the best night’s sleep, but waking up at camp the next morning was well worth it.

That was nearly fifteen years ago. While some days have come close, none have ever been quite as drama filled as that very first breezy summer afternoon. Most of the time, camp is an absolute blast––full of laughter and joy, and all the excitement and wonder of a typical summer camp, amplified by the deep appreciation the campers have for such a unique experience. It’s so amazing, in fact, that Camp Harmony has expanded to include not only a second location run simultaneously alongside with the first, but also the three-day winter camp I just attended.

Since that first summer, I’ve missed just one camp (I was out of the country doing volunteer work with tsunami victims in Thailand). Why, you might ask, am I so committed to Camp Harmony and its staff? Take a look at the video posted below and I’m sure you’ll understand.

Camp Harmony

Intro video to Camp Harmony – the best camp on Earth!

The Alchemist

Recently someone wrote me on my site asking what I liked about The Alchemist, by Paulo Coehlo, which I list on my Inspiration page as one of the books that influenced me significantly and helped lead me to become a writer. I wrote a direct response to that person, but now I want to share with the rest of my readers why I found that book to be so interesting. You’ll notice that my main focus was on the book’s themes and symbolism, rather than the writing style, prose, tense used, etc.

To me, this book was all about the allegory and the various lessons. So here it is, the list of reminders I took from The Alchemist, by Paulo Coehlo, and my comments as to why I found it to be such an extraordinary read.

Lesson One: The importance of staying positive and overcoming adversity – When Santiago loses all his money, he could have folded up and gone home. Instead he preserved. Lesson Two: The value of being truly committed to your work and pursuing perfection, even if your job is not something you truly love – It struck me as key to the story and Santiago’s development as a character that he took a job at the glass shop and became great at it. Not only was he willing to apply himself to something he didn’t love, he put his whole being into it, giving the job his complete dedication. Lesson Three: Never forget your dreams or feeling like it’s too late to pursue them – When Santiago leaves the glass shop to continue on his quest, it reminded me that many people get sucked into the daily grind of life and forget about the aspirations they once had.

I also remember appreciating the frequent reminders in the book that things are not always as they appear, and that the messenger of change can take many forms. The most eloquent part of the book for me, was discovering that Santiago’s treasure lay not in far away Egypt beneath the pyramid, but back where he started at the sycamore tree. Does that mean the entire journey was wasted? Not to me. The journey is what truly mattered. Santiago changed indelibly as a result of his quest. To me, that was the real treasure.

Bottom line – even if the book wasn’t beautifully written, I found of lot of value in it as an allegory. That is why I read it, and why I remember it so fondly.

 

The Word Game

I’ve been meaning to do this for quite some time. Late last year, I wrote a post that was featured on the site of a fellow author and very dear friend of mine, Jennifer Niven. I kept meaning to repost it here but, of course, other things kept coming up. This is actually one of my first, and yet still one of my favorite posts to date, since it deals with the creative process, inspiration, and the magic of where words can take us. I’ve actually written a follow-up to this post as well, so if you enjoy this one, please post a comment to let me know and I will follow it up with the sequel before long.

The Word Game:

One of the first things Jennifer Niven and I did when we first met was to play a word game. The goal wasn’t to come up with obscure words, know how to spell tough ones, or even to use a big word in a sentence. The goal was simply to incorporate interesting words into a story.

It all started at a Japanese restaurant. We were sitting there, looking at the menu, and noticed many strange and interesting items. After struggling with several on the list, we finally settled on one that we thought was particularly amusing and would be great to incorporate into a story somehow: monkfish.

We kept brainstorming and before long had a list of other items we thought needed to be incorporated in the monkfish’s adventure. ‘Trowel’ was one. ‘Badger’ was another. I’m pretty sure ‘desert’ was on the list. Before long, we had a whole ridiculous story laid out about a trowel-wielding monkfish in a desert, who makes friends (or gets eaten) by a talking badger. Or perhaps it was a trowel wielding-badger who gets eaten by a giant, land-dwelling monkfish…

The details aren’t important. What is important is that we let our imaginations and love of literature (loosely applied in this context) run wild. We visualized and pretended, and had a great time with it (I distinctly remember waving a piece of sushi in front of Jennifer and calling it a ‘monkfish,’ which she then summarily refused to eat).

Now years later, the brain-children from that silly little game lives on. In my book, Bobby Ether and the Academy, you will find several references to trowels, as well as one very ornery badger, who can’t seem to stay out of the limelight. I have yet to work the word ‘monkfish’ into a book but have no doubt that, one day when the right story comes along, the final member of my trowel-wielding monkfish/badger family will have a home.

PS – a few months ago, Jennifer and I added ‘lovely’ and ‘sword’ to the growing lexicon of our word game. I encourage you all to experiment with your own word games to see what kind of  fascinating (and bizarre) stories you can come up with.