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Author Update: Milestone Moments (Part 1)

In the months since I last posted an update, I’ve experienced a few milestone moments and thought I’d share. Some have been related to general life stuff, but some are exciting and relate to writing. Both merit some words. This is part one of my milestone moments update. I’ll get you caught up on the exciting writing-related stuff in part 2.

General Life Milestone: This is the Year I Get Readers

According to my eyes, I’m officially becoming Sophia Petrillo from the Golden Girls. Or, my 8th grade math teacher, who–come to think of it–looked a lot like Sophia Petrillo.

First, Let’s Back Up a Bit, to 1992

Since middle school I’ve been nearsighted with astigmatism. I actually remember the day I found out I needed glasses. It happened during 8th grade math. It was it’s own milestone moment. The school nurse was doing the hearing and vision tests, calling kids out of their classes in small batches. You know, I’m sure. You probably remember it yourself.

So, I was in math class with totally normal vision, following along with what the teacher was writing on the chalkboard. The nurse called me down to get tested. I ran through the vision test and she told me I needed glasses.

Uh, no I don’t, I thought. My eyes are fine. You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lady.

But when I got back to math class, I could no longer read what the teacher was writing on the chalkboard without squinting. I was horrified and furious. Clearly, the school nurse had cursed me because my eyes were fine until she told me they weren’t. That’s how I remember it, anyway, and we all know how trustworthy memories are. Take it with a grain of salt. Anyway…

Jump to 2020

Me looking happy in my glasses, mask free.

I switched from wearing glasses to wearing contacts when we all masked up. As a teacher, the mask combined with teaching/talking equaled breath-fog clouding up my glasses all day. So, contacts.

Had my eyes dilated when I was fitted for contacts

They worked great, until…

Fall of 2022

I found myself squinting to read the text on my computer screen. The font seemed ridiculously tiny and out of focus. Leaning in closer to the screen almost helped, but it was still a struggle to read the screen. By the end of the day my eyes were literally tired. I’d never experienced that sensation before. Tired eyes. Huh. Who knew it was actually a thing and not just a turn of phrase.

Hoping the issue would resolve itself, I switched back to glasses to “wait out” the strange phenomenon. At first, everything was fine again. All I needed to do was take my glasses off and then I could read the screen no problem… Well, the text still seemed smaller than I remembered it being. But if I zoomed everything in to 125%, I could read stuff no problem with my glasses off.

Winter of 2022

At some point in December, however, I came to the startling realization that I’d fallen into the habit of not only taking my glasses off but also leaning in ridiculously close to whatever screen I was trying to read.

Have you ever seen an “old” person with their glasses hanging off the tip of their nose, their chin dipped to their chest, phone screen three inches away from their face as they tried to read the tiny print with their “old” eyes? If you have, I bet you’ve had the same thought I did. I am never going to let myself do that. Joke’s on me. I’d been doing it for months and not noticing.

Odin help me, I thought. Do I need reading glasses?

Turns out, yes.I do. Because I’m old. Which is fine. What’s not fine is how flipping expensive it will be to get bifocals. (Which have been rebranded, apparently? They’re called “transition” lenses now. Because that sounds less “old” than bifocals, I guess.)

My question is this: Why does insurance in this country cover the cost of finding out you need glasses to see clearly, but then you’re on your own if you want to actually buy said glasses? Who decided that clear vision is nonessential for good health? If I buy a new pair of glasses (frames and lenses) from my optometrist’s office, it will cost me almost $1000 dollars! If I use an online service or go to a Target or Walmart place, I can likely cut that down to $500, but still. What the heck! I cannot afford to pay $500+ dollars to see clearly.

And so, for the past several months, I’ve been living with my glasses dangling off the tip of my nose while I hold my phone three inches from my face to read my text messages and AP News articles.

Spring of 2023

My beloved partner-in-crime recently suggested I swing by Walgreens and pick up a set of readers from the spinny rack next to the pharmacy counter.

“Great idea,” I said sarcastically. “How about I pick up a couple of dangly neck straps, too, so I can look just like my 8th grade math teacher.”

A pair of readers hung around her neck on a bejeweled strap while she wore a pair of distance glasses. Each time she turned back to the chalkboard to write something, she’d switch between them. When she turned back to the room, she switched again. Just like her, I’m sure I’ll be switching back and forth between sets all day, so like her I’ll need not one but two dangly glasses straps. And just like 14-year-old me thought my math teacher looked ridiculous with her two pairs of glasses, I’m sure my 14-year-old students will think I look utterly ridiculous, too. What goes around, comes around.

Actually, there’s an oddly comforting symmetry to this year’s milestone moment. A cycle of some kind is completing itself. It feels karmic and proper, if inconvenient. I’m getting old. My eyesight is failing me. I can’t afford a proper pair of bifocals, so…

This is the year I get readers.

Which is good. I need them. I’ve been spending a lot of time at my computer this year, writing. And, if this year is any indication, I’ll be spending a lot more time at my computer moving forward, too. Exciting things are finally starting to happen. I’ll tell you more about them in my next post.

Thanks for stopping by, and as always, happy writing!

May 21, 2023
Great Gift Ideas for Writers

As if I haven’t already read about 50 blog posts on this very topic, here I am throwing up a blog post about great gift ideas for writers. Why? Because it is after Christmas, and now the pressure is off and the sales begin.

If people I know are anything like me, they flew out the door on the 24th for a frenzied, unpleasant, angst-ridden gift-buying binge and hated every moment of it. (Oddly, I got all my shopping done this year with a full week to spare. Who am I?!) The last thing most people I know are going to want to do is to head back out and “hit the sales.” I know that thinking about doing that sort of thing makes me start to sweat and not in a good way. However, it’s the season to be thinking about gifts and buying stuff, so while it’s fresh in my forebrain, why not use this blog post to generate a list that I can direct people back to later on in the year at other appropriate gift-giving moments?

Do remember that “great” is a relative term here. This is MY list of gifts that, as a writer, I would love to get any time of the year on any occasion for any reason! The list is not arranged in order of preference either. I’m creating it as things come to me.

Quick disclaimer: I am not sponsored by or getting paid by anyone for recommending or for using any of the products I put on this list. These are entirely my own thoughts and ideas.

1) Fountain Pens (for old-school writers)

The Pilots are the four on the left of this picture.

You had to have seen that coming. I continue my obsession with fountain pens. Most writers like quality writing implements, but not nearly enough of us own a fountain pen. I own many, and I write with them all the time. I’m also not rich or really anywhere even close to that descriptor, so I can’t recommend an expensive pen, although I’m hoping to treat myself to a gorgeous retractable fountain pen as a grad school graduation gift this summer.

Anyway, I recommend the Pilot Metropolitan fountain pen as a gift for the writer in your life. These pens have metal casings and a nice weight in the hand. The caps post well. They come in a variety of attractive covers. The disposable ink cartridges are inexpensive and easy to find, and if you’re cheap like me or are equally nerdy about inks like me, the disposable cartridges can be rinsed out and then refilled with other inks using either a plastic pipette or a glass eye dropper.

2) Notebooks (for all writers)

I find a certain pure joy in the sight of a crisp, blank notebook.

This is another obvious choice for a writer friend. I caved and bought myself two new (super cheap) notebooks for myself at Five-Below this year, because I have a teensy obsession with notebooks (see previous post here). I also found a few with pre-generated writing prompts. I got several identical copies of these and am going to be giving them to members of my long-distance writing group. The idea is that we can partake in a story-swap. I’m envisioning it a little like a book club, where once a month we all take the first prompt in our notebooks and write a piece of flash fiction off of it, then send it to each other. It’ll keep us all writing, keep our creativity-muscles in good shape, and keep us connected. Win-win-win, and whatnot.

3) Faux Old-Fashioned Typewriter Keyboard (for whimsical writers)

Come on! A wireless, digital keyboard for a tablet that pays homage to its own humble beginnings?! Fabulous.

Part of me knows this is sort of a stupid gift, but that doesn’t change the fact that I grin like an idiot every time I look at this adorable if impractical device. My dad owned an ancient, high-backed Underwood typewriter when I was a kid. He showed me how to use it and then left me to play school, and secretary (sad, I know), and then to start typing stories on that old machine. Therefore, this high-tech-low-tech gift pushed my nostalgia button hard. In practice, it would probably end up annoying the heck out of me due to how small the keyboard is, and it doesn’t look all that easy to transport without snagging the keys and popping them off on stuff. But, seriously, just look at it! Isn’t it cute?

4) Gift Card to a Hip, Local, Coffee Shop (for… hip writers?)

Odin, hear my prayer, please no more gift cards to Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks or Panera Bread. Okay, Panera Bread, maybe, but not the other two. Ask your writer friend where they like to go to write and, assuming their answer is a coffee shop of some kind, hit up that spot and get them a gift card for MORE THAN ten dollars. Come on people; make it worth it, please.

4) Books (for humans)

Duh! This is the absolute no-brainer. And, by the way, books are just about the best gift idea for anyone, anywhere, at any time, for any occasion. Giving someone a great book kills so many birds with a single stone. Reading will improve the receiver’s brain, give them an awesome extended experience, and give them something great to talk about to other people. Books as gifts support the creative person or persons who wrote the book, designed the cover, etc. Also, buying books sends a message to the marketplace that books are a product worth creating, and maybe that will have a trickle-down effect for all of us. Maybe? That last bit could be a naive thought on my part.

Now, please, don’t just take a shot in the dark. And don’t buy them a book that YOU would like to read and so you figure they would, too. Take the time to find out what books they want. If they have a Goodreads account, check out their “Want to Read” list. If that isn’t a possibility, how about you just flat out ask them? You might be thinking, “But then they’ll know what I’m getting them for a present,” allow me to speak on their behalf for a moment: They don’t care. They will love the gift even if it’s not a total surprise because it’s something they WANT.

5) A Contigo® Travel Mug (for environmentally conscious writers)

This ties back to the gift card to your writer friend’s favorite haunt. Give your writer a way to nourish their caffeine habit in an environmentally friendly way.

Specifically, I adore Contingo® travel mugs.

This is the model I have, but in green.

Testimonial – This past year I made myself a cup of tea to sip out of my Contigo® mug on my drive to work at 7:00 am. It was scalding hot, so I set it in a console cup holder to cool and completely (I mean completely) forgot about it. That afternoon, at 4:45 pm, I rediscovered it when I got into my car to go home. The tea in the travel mug had cooled just enough so that I could sip it without burning myself. Now that is an impressive mug!

I learned a lesson that day, too. I now make my tea, then add four ice cubes as I’m heading out the door so that I can enjoy my hot beverage on my actual drive.

6) A Coffee Bean Grinder (for coffee drinking writers)

If writer friend likes coffee, this is a great gift idea. Freshly ground beans make for significantly better tasting coffee than preground beans do. Also, it opens up the possibility of them trying out (or being gifted) unique gourmet bean blends. I own both a hand grinder and an electric grinder. Confession, I use the electric one more than I use the manual one, but only because it’s quicker and more convenient. The manual grinder does a better job of grinding the beans evenly.

Regardless, whenever I find myself in the rare and luxurious position of being alone in my home with a few hours of isolation available in which I can read or write, one of the first things I do is brew up a rich, quality cup of high-end coffee.

7) Noise Canceling Headphones (for writers with children)

Bose makes a $300 pair; I saw them in the Apple store and just about choked at the price. But you know what? I tried them on and, by Freya, those suckers were incredible!

Just look at her, being all productive and creative with her noise-canceling headphones on!

As a writer who struggles to close out the world when I’m writing, this gift would be fantastic! There is literally a hole in the wall above my writing desk through which the dulcet tones of my playing/bickering/crying/screaming children echo to me as I attempt to immerse myself in another world. Noise canceling headphones would be a much-appreciated gift. But beware, not all “noise canceling” headphones do a good job of actually canceling out noise. If you’re going to commit to this gift idea, pay for ones that work!

8) Magazine Subscriptions (for writers of short fiction)

In what genre does your friend write? You should know this, but if you don’t, find out. Also, ask your aspirational writing friend, “In which magazines do you dream of getting published?” The pinnacle, prestige publications. Buy them a subscription to any and all of them.

The first step toward them achieving their dream is to read from those magazines often. However, yearly subscriptions can be pricey. I have a bucket list of amazing magazines in which I dream of one-day publishing, and I’d be delighted if someone bought me not just an issue but a whole year’s subscription of any of them. That would be incredible.

9) A Wicked Good Bag (for on-the-go writers)

Aren’t they sleek and lovely?

I have owned both backpacks and messenger bags. I personally prefer messenger bags. Not sure why. Just do.

My current bag came from Barnes and Noble. A pretty good bag considering the price, and I’ve loved owning it for three years now. It’s just… starting to look its age, I guess. The heavily stained, frayed-at-the-edges canvas exterior has lost some of its attractiveness. It’s still quite functional, though. I would be so hesitant to spend money on a new one. I mean, who cares if it’s starting to look like something I found half-buried beside an abandoned set of train tracks, right?

This bag just begs for adventure!

Anyway, a woman who coaches in the same Science League that I coach in was sporting just about the best bag I have ever seen in my entire life. It’s by a company called Peak Design

Pause: Leather satchels that look like they’re meant to be perched across the back of some gorgeous adventuring archaeologist are my ultimate fantasy bags. My fantasy bags would not hold up to real life practicalities, however. The Peak Designs bag would, though, and you have to admit that they are also gorgeous in a completely different way than the Indiana Jones bags.

10) A Writer’s Retreat or Convention (for all writers)

“The Writers’ Retreat” by Grant Snider, an illustrator and cartoonist who draws the online strip “Incidental Comics.”

The gift of a retreat would be a huge gift, a truly grand gesture. It would be (in my opinion) the penultimate gift you could ever possibly give to a writer. It’s like buying someone a cruise. Heck, I know of several writers retreats that ARE cruises. So… just sayin’.

What’s great is that there are retreats suited for all types of writers. What’s sad is that while most of us will yearn and pine and dream of attending a writers retreat, most of us will never follow through and go.  There are logistical issues to attending a retreat. Circumstances must be taken into account. Childcare? Time off from work? Travel considerations? Before offering up this diamond ring of a gift to the writer in your life, make sure it’s something they both really want to do and could logistically do. If you’re not sure about how to “shop” for the perfect retreat, check out this excellent post: Making the Most of Your Writing Retreat by Janalyn Voigt over at LiveWriteBreathe.

If my beloved surprised me with a week-long writer’s retreat, I would probably get as excited as the day I… well, never you mind. Let’s just say I’d get very, very excited.

So there you go. A few ideas of fantastic gifts you could get that special writer in your life and have it be very genuinely appreciated.

Your Turn:

Think long and hard. What would you love to get as a gift in the context of you being a writer? Share in the comments. Ideas are more than welcome.

Happy writing to you!

December 25, 2017
Good News, Bad News, and Trouble in Writing Town

I’ve got a thirty-minute break before my next parent-teacher conference, so I thought I’d use this time to do some writing. I know I won’t be able to get any meaningful creative writing done, sandwiched as this moment is between long and stressful blocks of trying to calm down nervous parents and stressed-out students. My stress levels are elevated today, too. Not a great place to be, mentally, when you want the ideas to flow. The doors of my imagination just can’t swing freely on their hinges at the moment.

Since I’m currently stress-blocked and don’t feel up to generating anything creative right now, I figured I’d use this time to sneak in a blog post and try to unpack a problem that has been dogging me of late.

Creative Constipation

Over the past week, forward progress on my WIP has slowed to a snail’s pace. I need to figure out what’s going on. What has changed? What can I do to unblock myself?

You know how everyone always says stuff like, “You can’t edit a blank page,” or “The first draft is supposed to be terrible?” Of course, you do, if you’re a writer. It’s inescapable, especially during the month of NaNoWriMo. I firmly buy into those clichéd tidbits of advice. If I had more time (hahaha) I’d needlepoint it onto a cushion and then sit on that cushion as I wrote.

However, something happened on the 15th that seems to have changed things and not for the better. We (being the folks in Lesley University’s MFA in Creative Writing Program) received our mentor pairings for next semester. Fourth semester students (like me) work on one thing and one thing only: our creative theses. Or, in layman’s terms, we’ll be trying to shine up a reasonable draft of a book. Up until last week, I was feeling pretty good about that. Looking forward to it, in fact.

Good News, Bad News

Then, we got our pairings. Good news: I got my first choice for a mentor. The esteemed Chris Lynch, author of Inexcusable, Little Blue Lies, and Angry Young Man, and others. I also got my first pick for my Thesis Reader: Jason Reynolds, author of Patina, When I Was the Greatest, and All American Boys among other books. To invoke Chandler Bing, “Could I be more excited?” Maybe, but it would be difficult.

Anyway, I got that news and fist-pumped the sky, did a dance of joy, and then froze. Oh, sugar-honey-iced-tea. Chris Lynch and Jason Reynolds are going to see my story. Turns out the good news is also the bad news.

Here’s what that sudden, stark realization felt like. Imagine you’re at the grocery store, heading back to your car carrying two extremely heavy and overpacked bags of foodstuffs, and you’re feeling stoked because you hit some sweet sales and managed to stock up for the week and then some. You’re crossing a busy throughway in the parking lot when the bags let go. All at once, the bottoms rip wide open and vomit your stuff all over the pavement. Cans are rolling everywhere. The milk carton is ruptured. A white puddle expands at your feet. Dented boxes, broken eggs, bruised apples racing away, and cars coming at you from both directions. What you thought of just moments ago as an awesome bundle of tasty treats now looks like an embarrassing heap of trash.

My “book” now feels like those groceries lying broken and hopeless and ugly on the pavement, and Mr. Lynch and Mr. Reynolds are the drivers who have to stop and get out of their slick cars to help me to scrape all my crap up off the ground. They know how to bag groceries. This would never happen to them. I’m a schmuck, and now they have to deal with my foolishness.

Perception versus Reality

I’m not saying that’s my actual situation. Maybe my “book” isn’t as big a mess as all that, but that’s how it feels right now.

I’ve got this thing, this rough draft, and it’s terrible in all the ways that I usually tell myself a first draft is allowed to be. But…

Two authors whom I respect (and, okay yes, idolize) are about to put eyes on it. All of a sudden it no longer feels okay for my rough draft to be messy. I want to turn my work-to-date over to Chris, have him read it, and then get an email from him expounding upon how wonderful it is and how excited he is to help me cut and polish this diamond of a story.

I want that, but I don’t have a rough diamond to give him. I’ve got a pile of ruined groceries hastily scraped up off the blacktop, possibly destined for the garbage. And he’s going to judge me!

He’s not going to judge me.

The man is amazing. So is Jason, who will read my “finished” product at the end of this semester and either give it the thumbs up (I pass) or thumbs down (I still pass, but let it be known that I am a talentless hack). Every student who has worked with these two men has sung their praises.

The point is, I no longer feel okay with my rough draft being terrible. In my desire to impress two incredible authors, I’d want it to be perfect, spotless, shiny. Glittering to the point of blinding in its utter fabulousness. Is that too much to ask?

We’re Our Own Worst Critics

Yes, as it turns out. Perfection is too much to ask, and my self-imposed, unattainable new expectations have bogged down my writing process. My muse has curled up in the fetal position at my feet beneath my desk. She’s utterly useless under pressure, I guess. Meanwhile, I am getting hung up on every single sentence I try to write. Is this description strong enough? Are these verbs punchy enough? Am I rambling? Should I cut this? Do I need to elaborate here? Why’s there so much dialogue in this scene? What the H am I doing?

That’s me, snail-crawling along, doubting EVERYTHING about my writing and my characters and my story. Whereas I normally can pump out a solid 1,500 to 2,000 words a day, I’m now down to less than 500.

Which I guess would be okay if it weren’t for the fact that I’m supposed to turn in 13,000 words of new material on December 1st in preparation for my January residency. I’ve only got 6,200 words so far, and that has taken me almost two weeks to generate. And it’s all rough draft quality work.

Sigh.

This really should be an IWSG post, because I am feeling more insecure about my writing than I have probably ever felt before in my entire life. It’s cool. It’ll pass. I’ve doubted myself before this, and I always get over it…

Eventually.

Until then, I’ll continue to plug along and hope that, with the help of an incredibly talented (and patient–dear Freya, please let them be patient) mentor and reader, some of my groceries will turn out to be salvageable. Because what else can to do? It’s part of being an aspiring writer, right? I either quit now, or I push through the doubt and continue to dribble the words onto the paper.

Okey-dokey. Break time’s over. Back to the day job.

Has anyone else had nearly paralyzing moments of doubt brought on by the prospect of having a legitimately talented author/agent/editor reading your stuff? Please, tell me I’m not the only one.

November 21, 2017
My MFA in Creative Writing Program Explained

If you hadn’t heard, I’m getting my MFA in creative writing at Lesley University.

This week, my third semester wraps itself up as I claw my way toward the finish line and a degree. Technically, I should have finished up last week, on Friday to be exact. Life doesn’t always work out the way we envision it, though. Since I started this blog as a way to document the madness (check out my About page for more on that), I thought I’d write a post that gives my take on the program.

Lesley University’s Low Residency MFA in Creative Writing Program Explained:

Each semester kicks off with an intense–and I do mean intense–nine-day on-campus residency in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The summer residency happens in June. The winter residency happens in January.

I live just up the way in Salem, so I commute on the train. During the residency, which kicks off at 9am each morning and doesn’t wrap up until 8pm each night, I attend interactive workshops taught by creative writing faculty from one of five concentrations (Fiction, Nonfiction, Poetry, Writing for Young People <– that’s my concentration, and Graphic Novels). I also attend seminar lectures from visiting guests such

Mr. Reynolds, an incredible writer and mentor in our program

as Jo Knowles,  M. T. Anderson, and Jason Reynolds (who also teaches in the program) just to name three whom I particularly enjoyed.

Not to mention all the wonderful social time that happens each evening after the day’s classes and lectures wrap up. I’ve met so many talented, funny, wonderful, and supportive people at the two residencies I’ve attended thus far. If I’m lucky, I’ll stay in touch with some of these fine folks for the rest of my life.

Prior to each residency, I write and submit two creative pieces, each about 6,500 words long. A designated faculty member and other students workshop both of them. I have to say, there are so many things that I have loved about this program, but the critique workshops are my favorite. Not only do I get to read about six pieces of creative writing by others and practice my skills as I give feedback on them, but I get to receive nuanced and thoughtful feedback from six people who are as passionate about writing as I am.

As the on-campus residency wraps up, I work with my mentor to build a study-plan for the rest of my semester that will play out long-distance via email and texting and Facebook messaging, etc. It’s a personalized study plan based on what I think are my strengths and weaknesses as a writer, what my mentor sees as my strengths and weaknesses, and what my writing goals are in general (to become a famous, globetrotting novelist! Ha ha. *sigh* Just let me dream, okay?)

Break-down of Semesters 1 & 2: In a Word, Busy.

I take three classes, though it feels in practice like I’m only taking two. I’ll just treat it like I’m dealing with two classes. For my “main” class, I work with my mentor. Over the course of the semester, I read craft books and novels and write reflective or analytical essays about them. At the same time, I work on my own creative stuff. I submit my essays and my creative writing four times (once a month), and each time I get an in-depth analysis back from my mentor on what I did well and what I need to work on. As if that’s not enough to keep me busy, there’s that pesky second class I mentioned.

The second class is an interdisciplinary studies class, which means that since I’m in the

This is my final project for my first Interdisciplinary Class: The Artist’s Way. It’s supposed to be a collage representing my journey as a writer.

Writing For Young People concentration, I have to take something that ISN’T related to writing for young people. For my first semester, I took a class modeled after Julie Cameron’s Artist’s Way. I took a science fiction and fantasy class in my second semester that focused on the short story. This semester, I took a follow-up to the science fiction and fantasy class that focused on the novel.

For this second class, the I.S. class, I also have to read books, write reflective or analytical papers about them, and write my own creative stuff. All that stuff gets submitted four times per semester, too.

Sound like a lot? Yeah, it is.

It’s great, but it’s a lot. Cue the stress.

Ah, but that was just the first two semesters.

Semester 3: Odin, It Was Rough.

As I said, I’m wrapping up my third semester in this program. A week late, it’s true, but at least I’m finishing. Not everyone does. Third semester is notorious in this program for being insane.

In addition to managing all the work for my SFF novel-writing class (which has been off-the-hook outstanding, by the way), this is the semester when I had to write my big “craft essay.” Now, I want to pause here for a moment and say that the folks at Lesley really ought to call this our “Craft Thesis” since we aren’t allowed to graduate if we don’t write it.

This beast to which I am referring takes the place of reading a couple of books and write a 2-4 page reflective paper about them four times during the semester. Instead, we have to pick a craft topic of our own choosing, research the holy heck out of it, and write a 12-18 page paper on the topic.

What did I choose to research? Glad you asked. In an attempt to marry my two great loves

in life–biology and creative writing–I elected to write a research paper exploring the neuroscience behind writing that “hooks” readers.

Look at all those scientific articles about neuroscience and reading!

Sounds pretty rad, am I right?

It was, but don’t forget that while I was doing all that research [shudders at the thought of all that research], I was also writing and submitting about 24,000 words of my own creative writing spread out over four submission cycles.

Semester 4: The Future Looks Bright

I submitted my craft essay (they really should call that sucker a “Craft Thesis” to give it the psychological weight it deserves) last Monday and cheered. I’ll be submitting my last batch of creative stuff on Wednesday, and I am looking toward the horizon with a sense of optimism steeped, perhaps, in a bit of denial. It would be nice to get at least a couple of weeks of down time to catch my breath, but we just got the email with instructions on how to format or workshop pieces, which are due December 1st.

Yikes!

Fourth semester is the one in which I devote 100% of my attention on my “Creative Thesis.” This is the culminating creative project, the thing that showcases my supposed mastery of writing fiction (for young people, mind you). No pressure. No problem.

Did I mention that my right eye has been twitching for the past week? No kidding. It really has.

Books I’m reading to inform my creative thesis this semester.

Fourth semester will be great. I’ll have no I.S. class competing for my time and attention. I’ll have no analytical craft essays to write, big or small. It’ll just be me and my book and my mentor trying to help me make it not suck so bad. I’ll need to put together 100 to 150 polished pages of a YA novel that I and the program administrators won’t be embarrassed by. I think this is doable?

Technically, I already have 150 pages of my Creative Thesis written. As of last night, Scrivener informed me that I’ve got 159 pages, to be exact. The problem is… oh, there are so many problems. The biggest problem is that, from a structural standpoint, Under the Purple Sky is a hot mess. I attempted to tell a YA sci-fi survival story in the first person POV via two different timelines that weave together as readers experience the main character’s psychological ruin during a global disaster that wipes out 99% of the human species, and her tentative road to recovery three years later. Ugh.

I’ve got my work cut out for me. But, I remain hopeful. It will be nice to be able to focus on just one single project for a full semester, and if I play my cards right, I’ll walk away from all of this in July with a degree. I might even have a decent draft of a book, too. That, however, remains to be scene… er, seen. Ha, ha.

So, that’s what I’ve been up to this past year-and-a-half.

If you are curious about Lesley’s Creative Writing program, specifically their low residency program, feel free to ask in the comments. I’m a subject sample of n=1, but I’m happy to share my experiences thus far.

November 6, 2017
Chuang-Tzu, Things with Wings, and the Writer’s Life

At some point between 369 BCE and 286 BCE, western philosopher Zhuangzi (Chuang-tzu) wrote what is commonly known as The Butterfly Dream Parable. Here’s an excerpt:

“Once upon a time, I, Zhuangzi, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Zhuangzi. Soon I awakened, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.”

The butterfly parable popped into my head today as I stood at my kitchen sink, gazing out at my back yard with unseeing eyes. This morning’s writing session was a darned good one. I’d written just over 1,200 new words and wrapped up a lengthy scene in one of my two current WIPs.

For weeks, I’ve been banging my head against this particular project. The first third of the story had its own set of wings. I mean, the story just flew out of my brain. It was great. Then… it stopped being great. I hit the dreaded “middle” of the plot, and mental quicksand sucked me down. What was the point? Where was it going? Ugh.

So, for weeks I ruminated and whined and avoided trying to write anything. The one scene I did write was absolute trash. I’m convinced it won’t survive the second draft. Frustrating? Oh, you bet.

Then, someone posted something on Facebook about Mary Carroll Moor and the idea of writing “islands.” The general idea is to abandon the process of writing a story chronologically from scene to scene when you run up on writer’s block. That’s the moment, this person said, that one might benefit from writing whatever scene happens to bubble up into your mind without worrying about where it would fit into the story, or even whether it will end up being part of the finished product. It’s a form of discovery writing, I guess. Since I discovery-wrote that first smoking hot third of my WIP, I figured I’d give the island writing thing a try.

A few night’s ago, a flashbulb scene popped brightly into my brain, of my characters attempting a hairy river-crossing. The scene in my head was only a few seconds long, but it was incredibly vivid. For the past three days, I’ve been writing that scene. Today, it sprouted wings, caught an updraft, and took off. I disappeared into that scene completely.

When I returned to myself near midday, I felt a little hazy, like I was in that half-awake-half-asleep place. Which brings me to my moment at the kitchen sink and Chuang-tzu’s butterfly parable.

As I stared out into my back yard, it occurred to me that I have spent very little time in the outside world this summer. Sure, there have been a few days when I’ve set up camp at the teakwood table in the shade of our massive maple tree. Even then, though, I was elsewhere. I was inside my writing, my other world.

It can be easy for writers to disengage from the real world, to forget about it as they immerse themselves in their self-generated fictional worlds. On the one hand, it’s a wonderful feeling when the writing comes alive so vividly that you don’t want to leave it. On the other hand, my doctor informed me at my July physical that I have a vitamin-D deficiency.

My back yard is gorgeous. We’ve had a good amount of rain this summer, so the lawn has stayed green, and all of our flowers and fruit trees are lush and vibrant… and I’ve barely noticed any of it. Maybe I should take a moment to wake from my fictional world and spend some time in my non-fictional world.

So, I spent a bit of time outside today, and I took some pictures of all the beautiful things I’ve been missing. Here they are.

Have you had the experience of vanishing into your writing? Do you ever struggle to come back from that place? How do you balance your two worlds as a writer?

August 15, 2017