Tag: author

  • Good News, Bad News, and Trouble in Writing Town

    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

    Writer's BlockOver 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.

    Chandler Bing Gif

     

     

     

     

     

     

    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.

    Grocery Bag FailureHere’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

    Tom Hanks WriterYes, 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.

  • Who am I and what’s this blog all about?

    Who am I and what’s this blog all about?

    Hello world!  Here is my very first post for this project.  Yes, I’m calling my blog a project.  Deal.

     

    Let’s start with the second question. What’s the point of this blog? Ugh, you may be thinking.  Yet another author’s blog, another blog about writing. Sort of, I guess. It’s definitely not an author’s blog, not yet anyway. Maybe that will become a part of it one day, if I am so lucky as to get something published. And this blog isn’t specifically about writing, though as a writer that is my primary lens.

     

    You won’t be finding a bunch of sanctimonious writing tips, or click-baity crap about “secrets to writing great [x]” or “ten mistakes that will get your book turned down” or anything else like that.  What the heck do I know about that stuff?  I’m in no position to be giving tips to anyone, about anything.  You might as well ask the pigeon to drive the bus.  Besides, there are a gazillion websites and blogs and author’s pages out there that already give you that stuff.  This is one I find particularly entertaining (though the language is definitely NOT kid friendly).

     

    This blog is about creativity, about being a creative person. The up’s, the down’s, the genuine difficulties of trying to be a creative individual living in a consumption-focused world.

     

    And, you should know that this blog is mostly for me. If that sounds selfish, too bad. It is selfish. Last summer, I started up a masters program at Lesley University in creative writing. My focus is on writing for young people, because I have kids and they are my target readers (now and in the future). I love them. They’re great. They drive me nuts.

     

    After sixteen years of teaching high school science and writing fictional stories in my spare time as a hobby that I loved very much, I decided to jump the shark in my life and try to pursue creative writing more intentionally. I’m a novice writer, just like every writer is at the outset of their* writing career.

     

    I’m jammed full of ambition and excitement and enthusiasm and ideas and nerves and anxieties and doubts and frustrations; I’m a hot mess.  It’s great. It’s terrible.  I’m sure it’s a familiar state of existence for anyone bold enough to live a creative life.

     

    This is some scary stuff I’m trying to do right now–switch things up, climb out of my rut, do something new and different. Most of my family, friends, and colleagues don’t get it. Not really.  Sure they smile to my face and nod politely. Some of them even refrain from asking backhandedly (or openly) discouraging questions. But I’m doing this anyway, and I thought it would be nifty to document this phase of my life via a blog that others might potentially stumble upon as they peruse the vast digital spaces of the internet.

     

    Like I said, it’s tough trying to be a creative person. It can be intensely frustrating and difficult. Creativity is, on the whole, undervalued by pretty much everyone. But I identify myself as a creative person. My husband is a creative person, too. We support each other. That’s what creative people have to do. We have to support each other. So, maybe by putting my own experiences and thoughts and mental musings here, I can in some way offer support and affirmation and encouragement to other creative-minded individuals. You don’t have to be a writer. You could be a painter, a sculptor, a photographer, and woodworker, a glass blower, a potter, an oral storyteller, a teacher, a librarian, a musician, a composer. You name it; the list goes on. If you value art and the act of creation, I applaud you. Keep creating. We need you.

     

    Now, as for that first question. Who am I? Well, you’ll have to read my blog posts to figure that out. Heck, I’m still not sure of the answer myself. For now, let’s just say that I’m a work in progress, a WIP if you will, and leave it at that.