Retreat!

I’m co-chairing the big annual retreat for my local chapter of RWA this year, and it’s happening next weekend, whether we’re ready or not. Although, just to be clear here, right at this moment, there are no unanswered emails in my inbox so as I write this we ARE—currently—ready.

So, if you’re registered for the retreat, Don’t panic!

As the Geoffrey Rush character in Shakespeare in Love says, when they ask him how it’s all going to work out: “The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster.”

“So what do we do?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Strangely enough it all turns out well.

“How?”

“I don’t know. It’s a mystery!”

Because of all this, though, the word “retreat” in all its various forms has been much on my mind. And I’ve decided to use it.

There’s the zen form of retreat:

But right now, when I look at that lovely istockphoto image, I know deep in my heart that those rocks do not represent zen or a retreat into serenity. Those rocks are fricking weapons… and not for nothing, but I'm pretty sure that says something.

Then there’s the battle form of retreat:

Ah! Now we’re getting closer…

I’ve been living my life for the past few months, telling myself, “After the retreat, things will get back to normal.”

Before the retreat duties picked up, it was, “After the holidays, things will get back to normal.”

Before that, it was, “After the summer, things will get back to normal.”

And when I said “normal” what I meant was “And I will get back to writing.”

I’ve come to understand that will never happen. Life will never be “normal” and I need to write anyway. I need to make writing my normal.

I seem to have been very good at filling my time with writing-related activities. It’s time to start cutting them loose. Start cutting me loose. Because, to paraphrase a famous line, talking about writing is like dancing about architecture…

Time to stop dancing. Time to stop putting “normal” off until after the next big event.

Time to stop. Period.

And my first stop will be to stop blogging with the Rockville 8.

Hopefully they won’t kick me out completely, and if I ever get my zen back and stop wanting to throw rocks, maybe I’ll find my way back to blogging about the writing that I’ll actually be doing. That would be cool.

Right now, I don’t know how that’s going to happen. It’s a mystery!

But I’m hoping it will all turn out well…

Simple Pleasures

Last week, Mr. Christoff and I shoveled snow. (Oh, so much snow...) When we were finally able to hang-up our shovels, clip our mittens to the clothesline to dry, and pull off our boots to pad around our warm kitchen in our woolen socks, we were more than ready for lunch. So we cracked open a can of classic Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup and slathered apple slices with peanut butter. And while we sipped steaming, simple soup, Mr. Christoff turned to me and said, "This takes me back to playing in the snow as a kid!"

Ditto, Mr. Christoff. Ditto.

Sometimes, those simple days of childhood seem so far gone. But really, they aren't. Not if we can can find ways to live them all over again like with a rosy nose, plenty of snow, and a simple bowl of soup. Because life doesn't get easier as we get older, does it? There are bills to pay and groceries to buy and taxes to pay and to keep up with all that, there's office angst and traffic jams and migraines.

So, from time to time, grab hold of what makes you feel like a kid again. Embrace what makes you smile. Especially when those things are so simple to find. Like soup. And snow. For my part, I intend to make time for more bubble baths. I'll clear my schedule for those old episodes of Doctor Who. I'll get my hands good and dirty planting geraniums. And I won't be shy about getting my feet wet on a good long walk with my dogs. These simple pleasures, I know, will remind me of my childhood. And they'll make adulthood a lot more fun!

What simple pleasures bring you a much-needed break? When was the last time you indulged in one? Let the R8 know!

Scratch and Sift

How familiar is this? You attend yet another writer's conference, and the keynote speaker has just regaled the audience on how she wrote her breakout first novel, which of course not only became a bestseller, but also launched a movie franchise. She tells us that she'd never written before, except maybe a sweet little article for a parenting magazine. But one morning, after a pitiful night's sleep due to 3 sick children and a dog that ate her husband's socks, she awakened with the entire plot for the book. Complete with sparkly skin. And she's never read books about leprechauns, either.

It had just come to her.

Maybe she was also down on her luck, living on food stamps, and one dream later, she's wearing Prada to walk the dog. She demurs, she giggles, she tells us we just have to pay attention to our dreams because an absolute fabbie story is just waiting to pop out with the morning bowl of cornflakes.

I don't know about you, but I find these inspirational stories kinda depressing, and more likely to send me to the gentle comfort of cheesecake and vodka than to my notebook. Because Ima Bess Eller didn't mention the seven drafts that she went through or the edits her editor demanded just to make the book saleable. No, as far as I know, that best seller was birthed from her forehead like Athena springing from Zeus. And perfectionist that I can be, I don't want to start something that doesn't arrive fully written.

This week, I signed up for a design class taught by WeeksRingle. In the intro, she mentioned Twyla Tharpe's book, The Creative Habit, and shared Ms Tharpe's idea of "scratching". Chickens walk through the yard - at least the free range ones do  - scratching for corn. They don't know for sure if there is grain. Sometimes they pluck up a pebble or stone. But they still continue to scratch and sample, seeking all day long for something tasty.

Like chickens, artists, choreographers and yes, even writers, must learn to be continuous scratchers, living in the expectation of the spark of an idea. And then not to be bound to that idea, either, because sometimes an idea is simply the doorway to the next one. 

Back in the day when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was in high school, my creative writing teacher had us read. All the time. To see how other writers handled words, conveyed ideas. We looked at theme and cadence, at conflict and arc. Then we would do writing exercises. My writing teacher had no expectation of any story or poem arriving fully formed. Nor was every idea that we scratched about with meant to become a completed story. I can't tell you where the transition was made in my mind. Perhaps my procrastination forced my perfectionism's hand, or vice versa. But I love the freedom in trial and error, even if I haven't the patience always for gathering and trying and drafting and thinking. But I think my writing will only get better if I allow myself to just scratch about and see where an idea might carry me. 

Find Your Tribe

Today, I went to a wonderful event—Washington Loves Romance.  It was a gathering of writers and readers at a beautiful bar in the Washington Area.  I wasn’t really sure what to expect.  It was a great time to visit with friends and meet new people.  

It is important for writers to find outlets to reach out to other writers.  You can learn so much from other writers, especially about the business aspect of writing.  Hearing about what kinds of things they’ve been through is helpful for both commiserating and for learning about various aspects of publishing.

One thing I notice about any gathering of writers is how supportive they are.  For the most part, writers encourage one another rather than tear each other down.  Offer advice rather than keeping information to themselves.

          
Writing can be lonely.  It’s hard to soldier on sometimes, showing up at the computer, doing the writing, and making the commitment.  If you’re unpublished, you’re working without knowing there will be any payoff.  That’s all the more reason to seek out other writers.

There are all kinds of writer’s groups out there if you’re looking for one to join.  Every genre under the sun has a group.  Put yourself out there and find a group that interests you.  Volunteer in that organization and get to know other people.  Find yourself a critique group.  Search the newspaper for writer’s events.  Call bookstores and see what events they offer.   

Get involved and find your tribe.  You’ll be glad you found others who share your interests.  It’s a relief to find others who understand the kinds of joys and lows that writing brings.    

         

Let me know if you have any other ideas for meeting other writers.  We'd love to hear them.     

Word-of-the-Year Series: Believe & Balance

Welcome to the continuing Rockville8 word-of-the-year series. We’ve heard so many great words from members of the group and the life philosophy behind the choice of each of those words, that I’ve walked away inspired each week. It’s been an encouraging series for me to read.
I’m a pretty driven person. I set goals every January and I push hard to meet those self-imposed deadlines for myself. Therefore, when this conversation came up about choosing a word for the year, I only had to think of the goals I’d set for myself this year to choose my word. Well, actually, my two words. I couldn’t settle on one because I’d had such diverse goals this year. The two words I settled on this year that embody my goals are BELIEVE and BALANCE.

BELIEVE is such a great word because its scope is so great. I am a woman of faith, so believing as it’s related to faith and religion has been fairly easy for me since I was a child. The spiritual has always been important to me. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t BELIEVE in God. However, the harder aspect of the word for me to practice is related to my writing career. I’m a practical person. If I have a goal, I’ve always been able to envision all the steps it will take to achieve that goal. This mindset often hinders my ability to BELIEVE that my dream of becoming a best-selling author will ever turn into a reality since the steps to becoming a successful published author seem so daunting in today’s market.

So I decided this would be the year that I chose to BELIEVE it could really happen--this is the year where I BELIEVE I will be published. I’m doing all the right things. I’m writing and finishing polished manuscripts, submitting those stories to publishers and agents, networking, and building connections within the romance genre. Now it’s time to put my faith into action and see what happens.

The second word I’ve claimed is BALANCE. Since I’m goal-oriented, I tend to hyper-focus. I’m not very balanced. I have a hard time relaxing or just “being.” I can get lots of work done in the course of a week, month, quarter, or year. However, oftentimes, to achieve those word-count goals I’v set for myself--while working a full-time job and managing a family--other areas of my life have suffered.

My “fluffy” quotient rose exponentially over the past five years. Weight I’d gained during my three pregnancies never went away. And the more manuscripts I finished, the less exercise I got and the more I just ate without thinking about the food I consumd. So to achieve BALANCE this year, I’m working on my health--eating better, dieting, exercising. Already, I see a difference in my energy levels and how I’m feeling. Physical wellness is an important part of any balanced writer’s arsenal. If I don’t take care of my body now, I won’t be able to write into my Golden Years when I have the glorious luxury of time.

BALANCE is also necessary where my family commitments are concerned. My boys are teenagers. They’re pretty independent. They can cook their own meals, do their own laundry, and pick up after themselves. Yay! This is such a change from those years when they were little and needed so much from me while I tried to squirrel away an hour here and there to write. I now have more independence, too. Plus, more time to write. However, my boys still need me. BALANCE gives me permission to spend the time I need with them to enjoy the young men they’ve become and are becoming, while still making my dream of writing a reality.

Instead of taking every weekend to write, I’m learning to manage my time differently. I’m taking more breaks between manuscripts--a reward to myself when I finish a project. I try to write a few hours during the week, when I can, so that I don’t need to be away all day on Saturday and Sunday to write to make up for the time I didn’t get to write during the week.

I’ve also started to work intentional reading back into my morning routine. I’m an avid reader. I love to read. I binge when I’m not writing. But to keep the well full, both emotionally and mentally, I need to read on a regular basis, not just when I’m not working on a project. We can only expand genres and take our own story-telling to the next step if we underestand what’s currently being written within those genres. In that morning time, I’m reading both fiction and the how-to non-fiction books I adore. Talk about starting your day off right. Getting ready for work is much better after I’ve enjoyed a chapter of a good book. All throughout the day, my mind returns to that book, that story. How cool.

And, I’m working on learning to stop to smell the roses. My focus on BALANCE has lead me back to yoga, long walks, meditation, and expanding the contemplative life I love so much.

All-in-all, good results for concentrating on two simple words. I highly recommend it!

Tell me what you do to practice BALANCE in your own life--writing or otherwise. And I’d especially love to hear what you do to help you BELIEVE a successful writing life is possible for you. I’m always looking for “angels” to inspire me and keep me going. Tell me your story. I’d love to listen.

Reclaiming Your Mojo

mojo, a slang word for self-confidence, self-esteem, or sex appeal

The last two months, I’ve felt like something’s missing and I couldn’t figure out what I’d misplaced. Life is good. Nothing had really changed all that much. My family is happy and healthy. We’re on track. I’m working hard and pursuing my writing goals while I provide for my family. Everything important is still firmly in place. Purpose, check. Goals, a little dinged, but check. Dreams, check. All still right where I’d left them. So what’s making me crazy? Has me walking in circles questioning myself and wondering what’s the point of it all?

Then it hit me. I’d lost my mojo. No, not my sex appeal. My self-confidence. How? I’ve finished four manuscripts. Won writing awards. I earned an MFA in writing. Editors and agents have requested each of my finished manuscripts. For an unpubbed writer, I’ve found my share of successes along the way. Not the pen ultimate success--publication--but getting closer. So what’s suddenly robbed me of my mojo?

I’ve heard it countless times. Creative types are often harangued by self-doubt. For some, this self-doubt can be debilitating. True. I’ve always struggled with self-doubt, but until recently, I’ve been able to push through it to achieve my goals because I’m not just a right-brained thinker, I’m a left-brained one, too. Creative and analytical. Many writers are both.

So as any good scholar and writer would do, I went searching for answers at the book store. I came across a new book by Russ Harris called The Confidence Gap: A Guide to Overcoming Fear and Self-Doubt. The book has helped me identify that I’ve allowed my feelings to circumnavigate my actions. I’d begun to believe the fears and self-recriminations I throw at myself every day. Harris’s book has done a lot to help me reclaim my mojo and put me back on the path to achieving my goals.

With Harris’s help, I’ve come to realize fear is normal. Confidence is all about trusting yourself to take action. Practice makes perfect. Authentic confidence comes from mastery of a skill. If you commit to action, you won’t languish in fear. You can’t wait for the feeling of confidence to come before you act. By facing your fears and taking action, you can transform your relationship with fear and use it as a performance tool. If you identify negative thoughts as unhelpful, you can begin the process of neutralizing them. Acceptance of yourself is paramount. Knowing what matters most to you and what you value gives you powerful choices. Fully engage in life; live in the moment and enjoy the journey.

The book is definitely worth the price of admission.


DIRECT QUOTES, For Your Illumination

Here are a few nuggets from The Confidence Gap that have helped me regain my focus:

“We may be weeks, months, or years from completing our goals, but we can live by our values every step of the way, and find ongoing fulfillment in doing so” (pp 17).

Fear is normal. “[T]he more there is at stake, the more we tend to have feelings of fear and anxiety, and thoughts about what might possibly go wrong” (p. 21).

Confidence is trusting yourself to take action, no matter how afraid you are (p. 23).

“If we want to do anything with confidence--speak, paint, make love, play tennis, or socialize--then we have to do the work. We have to practice the necessary skills over and over, until they come naturally. If we don’t have adequate skills to do the things we want to do, we can’t expect to feel confident. And if we don’t continually practice these skills, they either get rusty or unreliable or they never reach a state where we can fluidly and naturally rely on them. Each time you practice these skills, it is an action of confidence: an act of relying on yourself” (p 25).

Five reasons people lack self-confidence: excessive expectations, harsh self-judgment, preoccupation with fear, lack of experience, lack of skill (p 26).

The confidence cycle: practice the skills, apply them effectively, assess the results, modify as needed (p. 29).

“Only through committed action--stepping out of our comfort zones and doing what truly matters deep in our hearts--will we experience authentic confidence” (p 32).

If you hold onto the mantra that you must feel confident before you do what matters most to you, then “you’ll spend a lot of time, effort, and energy trying to control your feelings” (p 34).

Fear results from the primitive “fight or flight” instinct. “[F]ear is a powerful fuel. Once we know how to handle it, we can use it to our advantage; we can harness its energy to help us get where we want to go. But while we’re looking at fear as something bad, we’ll waste a lot of precious energy trying to avoid or get rid of it” (p 38).

Hugh Jackman says: “I’ve always felt if you back down from fear, the ghost of that fear never goes away. It diminishes people. So I’ve always said yes to the thing I’m most scared about” (p 42).

“[T]here’s no way to expand your comfort zone without stepping out of it--and the moment you take that step, fear is going to show up” (p 44).

“It’s not fear that holds people back--it is their attitude toward it that keeps them stuck” (p 45).

“Genuine confidence is not the absence of fear; it is a transformed relationship with fear” (p 46).

“[Y]our mind has a tendency to be negative. . . . The human mind is quick to judge, criticize, compare, point out what’s not good enough, and tell us what needs to be improved” (p 51). This comes from a primitive survival instinct.

“[W]hen we fuse with our thoughts, they have a huge impact on and influence over us. But when we defuse . . . our thoughts--when we separate from them and realize that they are nothing more nor less than words and pictures--then they have little or no effect on us (even if they happen to be true)” (p 60).

“Recognizing a thought or belief as unhelpful often helps to reduce its influence over us; it makes us less likely to act on it. . . . [T]he question we’re interested in is simply this: ‘If I let this thought dictate my actions, will it help me to lead the life I want?’” (p 70).

“[I]n a state of defusion, our thoughts are nothing more nor less than words. . . . Once we can defuse from our thoughts--that is separate from them and see them for what they are--we have many more options in life. No longer are we at the mercy of our minds, pushed around by ingrained patterns of unhelpful automatic thinking. Instead we can choose to pursue what truly matters to us, even when our minds make it hard with all that reason-giving” ( p 74).

“The purpose of defusion is to be present and take effective action” (76).

Defusion calls for you to: “notice it, name it, neutralize it” (p 82).

“Self-acceptance, self-awareness, and self-motivation are all far more important than self-esteem” (p 92).

“[J]udging ourselves does not help us in any way; it does not work to make our life richer and fuller” ( p 84).

“What matters most in life is what you do, what you stand for, the way you behave. This is far more important than the stories you believe about yourself” (p 95).

“If we want to get the most out of life, we need to be fully present: aware, attentive, and engaged in what is happening. This involves a mindfulness skill ‘engagement’: connecting with the world through noticing what we can see, hear, touch, taste, and smell” (p 100).

“If you’re caught up in your thoughts, you won’t find it a satisfying experience--especially if your mind is giving a running commentary on how you’re performing. If you want to enjoy the experience, you need to be engaged in what you’re doing” (p 101).

“When we say that someone looks confident, we have no idea what they are thinking or feeling. But we can observe what they are doing, how they are behaving. And one thing you’ll always notice about confident people: they are very engaged in whatever they are doing” (p 102).

Thank you, Flight 93

Somehow writing about writing on September 11 seems inappropriate. Today, I'm just going to write.

I almost didn't go to work that day. My husband was home with our infant and I wanted to stay with them. But I ignored that feeling and went to work anyway. Trying to cheer me up, he promised to bring the baby and meet me for lunch near my job in Washington, D.C.

As soon as I arrived at work, smoke started to billow up from the street to my second story window, obscuring the view to the Capitol Building. A car was on fire below my window. I told a coworker I had a creepy feeling something awful was going to happen.

When we found out that there had been an accident at one of the Twin Towers, we huddled around a black and white TV. I glanced out the window and saw a nearby federal building that had a daycare on the first floor. Suddenly, all of the workers were running out with the children. Those too small to walk were being wheeled out, crib and all. That's when I started to get scared.

"What do they know that I don't?" I thought.

While watching the North Tower burn, a second plane hit the South Tower. We realized it was no accident. Soon afterward, we felt our building shake. Across the river, a third plane had struck the Pentagon.

I tried to call my husband at least 50 times, to tell him to stay home--from my cell and desk phone. I was dialing one while listening to the other. I couldn't do or think about another thing until I reached him. All of the lines were jammed with everyone trying to call their loved ones.

After speaking to my husband, I withdrew $100 from the ATM, thinking I would catch a cab to take me as far away as it could. I fled out of the building with thousands of others. My building is situated between the Washington Monument and the Capitol Building. I could see them both from where I stood. The White House is nearby. A deaf coworker, who lived close my home, was with me.

No cab would pick us up. Cabbies circled but refused to take any passengers. One even sped away when I put my hand on the door handle and I was forced to jump back or be dragged under it.

We were standing in front of the gates to the Smithsonian Castle. They slammed and locked the gate on us. The guards actually hit us with the gate when they locked it into place. The roads were jammed with cars. The subway workers told people to get off the trains and out of the stations. They closed and locked the station gates to the subway as well.

The police were speeding up and down the road, back and forth, with no seeming destination. The smell of rubber burning hung in the air and burned the back of my throat. I heard an engine rev and looked up to see a police car on the sidewalk barreling toward us. I grabbed my coworker, who couldn't hear it, and yanked her back. The car brushed our bodies as it drove by on the sidewalk. People were screaming and jumping out of the way to avoid him.

It looked like the set of a disaster movie. Everyone was running in different directions. People were yelling and screaming, crying and panicking. A woman, on a business trip from Boston, who'd been dumped out of the subway asked me how to get to Crystal City, Virginia. I told her she'd have to go over the Potomac on the 14th Street Bridge. Later, I found out armed military were standing on each of the bridges in the area, not letting anyone cross.

The worst moment occurred when a woman ran up and screamed, to no one in particular, that another plane was headed toward Washington--to where we were standing. I grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face me.

"What did you say?" I asked.

She repeated the CNN story, saying that the plane was headed our way. My friend grabbed my other arm and started pulling at it, wanting me to translate what was being said.

I couldn't think in English, let alone American Sign Language.

My heart did one tha-thrum in my ears before the the world ground to a halt, like a giant cog slowing down degree by agonizing degree. I was simultaneously icy and calm. Everything fell away, even my friend who was still tugging at my arm. I thought of my new baby, of how I would become a memory Daddy tried to keep alive. I was glad for the fact that I had just upped my life insurance. I thought about my loved ones. I forgot about all the stupid, petty problems that I was fretting about. I thought about seeing my beloved grandmother who had died ten years earlier.

Facing a possible death, I felt more alive than I ever had. Life boiled down to a few, select things. The good ones.

Last night, I was telling my child I had taken on another volunteer position, one that would be challenging.

"You always step in there," she said. "You've been on the school board. You've been the room mother. You've written the newsletter. You've done other stuff, too. You're not afraid. You just do it. You're my hero."

The kind of moment every parent cherishes. The kind of moment those who lost their lives on September 11 aren't here for. The kind of moment the ones they left behind can't have with them.

If not for the people on United Flight 93, I might not have been here for that moment.

I thank every single person on that flight. Because of their bravery and selflessness, countless lives were saved. They are the true heroes. I'm just fumbling along, doing the best I can with the life I've been given.

If you would like to share your thoughts and recollections with us, I would love to hear them. Thank you for listening to mine.

Protecting The Dream

Somewhere between the age of ten and thirty we forget how to dream. Who really knows what the magical age is that all our hopes and aspirations, those limitless possibilities, vanish in the face of the harsh realities of life? One day you turn around and poof. They’re gone. But I believe it’s more important than ever for writers--and women, especially--to keep the dream alive. We have so many demands on our lives and responsibilities that can weigh us down and pull us in a hundred different directions that we often overlook or push aside those secret dreams and goals we’ve nurtured deep inside. Instead, we choose to sacrifice what’s good for us for that which seems best for our families and loved ones. However, I’d argue, it’s when you’re pursuing your goals, when you’re tasting the fruit of your dreams, that you become a stronger person and have more to offer those who depend on you. What are your dreams? And what are you willing to do to achieve them?

Here are five key things I’ve discovered are important to breathing life into your hopes and dreams, no matter what your age.

Believe in Yourself - If you don’t believe in yourself, no one else will. Start there. Recognize your talent. Work hard to be the best writer you can be. Acknowledge you can achieve anything you set your mind to and then do it. Realize that no one else really cares if you finish that novel and they’ll all do everything in their power to make sure you don’t. It’s all up to you. You must believe in yourself and your writing.

Know What You Want - If you don’t set goals, you’ll never achieve them or know that you’ve achieved them. Are you afraid of success? Start little. Baby steps will get you moving in the direction you want to go as long as you know the destination. If you never have a destination, you’ll float through life. That’s okay if you’re a balloon. Not if you want to be a published author.

Keep Your Focus - When the rest of the world is frittering away time on x, y, and z, keep your focus. Write. Write. Write. Those pages add up. If you want to be a published author you need to write like a published author. No excuses. What are you willing to do without to complete your manuscript?

Take Risks - Don’t let your fear cripple you. Take appropriate risks to further your publishing career. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Push yourself outside your comfort level. Yes, it’s scary. But you’ll grow exponentially. Pitch to your dream editor. Corner that rockin’ hot agent at the bar. Take a class that will push your writing to the next level. Present a workshop. Courage and confidence will take you far.

Surround Yourself With Cheerleaders - The writing life is hard. It’s a lonely, solitary life. Find a group of writers who will help you grow and cheer you on when the process becomes overwhelmingly hard. We can’t do this alone. We need to know that even though writing is a solitary journey that there are others like us walking a similar path.

So, what are you prepared to do to make your dream a reality?

To NaNoWriMo or Not? That Is the Question.

This is the first year that I’ve done NaNoWriMo or National Novel Writing Month. For those who don’t know what that is (and I’m betting most, if not all of you, know more about it than I do) it means that you sign on at www.NaNoWriMo.org and vow to write 50,000 new words on a new manuscript. You cannot start until November 1 and you must end on November 30.

I almost didn’t do it. I’d just spent a whirlwind Halloween weekend going trick-or-treating twice, being in a Halloween parade and sewing a Saint costume for my child to wear in the All-Saints Day service. So, the last thing I wanted to do as I sat in the recliner at 11 PM on Sunday night, gasping for air and zoning out on the Real Housewives, was add another thing on my to-do list.

But, as I scanned my emails, I thought of NaNoWriMo. I’d been talking to the Rockville 8 about it, what exactly you do for it, etc. at our last meeting. Now, I was feeling guilty. I’d told myself that I’d do it. I’d promised myself I’d widen my horizons this year by trying it. Yet, at the moment, I was sitting in my recliner like an exhausted, used-up lump.

That’s when it hit me. I’m exhausted all the time anyway. I’m always used up. I’m always too busy. So, if I’m going to be all those things I may as well add one on the heap for myself. So, I logged onto the website and joined. As I did it, I questioned my own sanity. But I guess there are others who have questioned theirs as they added their names to the list.

It was also exhilarating. I was finally a part of something I’d heard others talk about. As of Sunday, November 7, I have 7,179 words. I should be at 11,669 words if you figure the 1,667 word a day pace. So, I’ve got some catching up to do. By my own reckoning I need to do 1,947 words each day from here on out to make it. So far, I’ve done an average of 1,026 words each day. This includes the day that I spent all day at my child’s competition. The day I had a deadline at work and dragged myself home. The day the traffic was horrendous on the way home. The day I had a headache and thought my head would explode. I’ve literally done something each day. Even on the hardest days.

Here’s the secret I’ve discovered. I may have started out exhausted when I was writing but many times I forgot my fatigue and stress by the end of my words. My husband has been supportive. My child played nicely with various toys. The dog sleeps on her rug under my desk and warms my feet. They’ve all pitched in and done their part.

And, when it didn’t get easier as I wrote, when it felt like pulling teeth, I still did it. It may not have been pretty but something made it to the page.

Last night, after all day at my child’s event, I felt like I’d been sucked dry. I really, really didn’t feel like it. So, I gave myself a carrot and wrote an exciting scene that I’d brainstormed just that morning. When I looked up, I’d written about 1,400 words. It felt effortless.

There’s another thing whispering in the background. The Rockville 8 goals for 2010. I seem to remember something about having a complete rough draft of a new book by August 2010. Did I really say that? Can I make it at least by the end of 2010 with the help of NaNo?

So, maybe I won’t make 1,947 words per day. Maybe I’ll only get 30,000 words for this month. But, then I say “only 30,000 words” and laugh. That would be a really good thing because it would be 30,000 I might not have had.

Tell me about your NaNo war experiences. What worked? What didn’t? Any advice?

So, this post is 692 words. Can I count this toward my daily NaNo goal?

Swimming the Riptide: How to Write Through Crisis

Whether we’ve ever experienced a riptide current or not, we all understand how to recognize the deadly undertow and, in theory, how to get ourselves out of it. Don’t panic. Keep your eye on shore and swim parallel to the beach. If you can do this, you’ll end up slightly off course, tired, shaken, but safe.

Life is messy. Crises will hit throughout your writing career. Knowing how to swim the riptide of crisis is crucial to your survival as a writer. Here are a few tips I’ve learned about swimming the riptide.

1.) Learn to identify when you’re in crisis. A strong undertow can be deadly, pulling you off course and out to sea. Know the signs. Be able to recognize when you’re in trouble. Self-awareness is half the battle. If you’re aware of your circumstances and your surroundings and your responses, you can face anything. It doesn’t matter what form your crisis takes--health issues, death in the family, divorce, unemployment, parenting problems--you’ll find yourself pulled off course. You’ll question what really matters and why it’s important to continue to write. Only you can answer these questions. But, if you understand how you react to crisis--whether you get depressed, angry, anxious, or deny it exists--then you can head yourself off at the pass and be intentional about getting out of the riptide.

2.) Have a plan. Even if your plan has never been tested, have one. We all have a riptide contingency plan. Most of us have never felt the scary tug of the undertow, and yet we all know how to get free if necessary. Once you’ve identified you’re in crisis, come up with a plan to move through it. Your plan doesn’t need to be elaborate. Keep your eye on your goal--the shore. But be prepared to move parallel to that goal for a while. You’re not really losing ground. You’re saving your life. One day at a time. One stroke at a time. One word at a time. You can do this.

3.) Relax. Don’t panic. The worst thing you can do when caught in a riptide is to panic. Don’t do it. You’ll tire yourself out and end up going under. Don’t expend excess energy or resources before it’s required. Preserve your strength. Stay afloat. Take care of you. A riptide plays itself out. What feels strong enough to sweep you out to sea today, will dissipate over a matter of minutes, days, weeks, or what may seem like years. Figure out what you need to stay afloat and make it happen. Read a good book. Take a day to totally immerse yourself in your characters’ problems instead of your own. Go to a movie with friends. Laugh. Light a scented candle. Play your favorite jazz collection. Remember what brings you joy. Breathe.

4.) Swim or float with purpose. Unfortunately, treading water isn’t an option when you’re in a riptide. You need to move forward to survive. You can’t roll over in the dead man's float and pretend your crisis doesn’t exist. If you do, you’ll lose everything important to you. You have to do the hard work of swimming or floating with purpose. Even if you’re on your back floating because you don’t have the energy to swim, you still need to kick, to keep your eye on shore, and to move in the right direction.

5.) Take the lifeline if it’s offered. If you have friends or teachers along the way who swim out to help you while you’re caught in the riptide, take the help they offer. Their burst of energy might help you kick free. The lifeline they offer might tug you out of the middle of the strong current. And while your friends may not be able to pull you out of the riptide entirely, they can lend you support, coach you, help you see your way clear. They’re an invaluable resource.

Swimming the riptide can make you stronger. Once you break free, you’ll come ashore feeling exhausted, beaten up, scared, and shaken. However, you’ll feel strangely stronger, too, because you know you’re a fighter and a survivor. You came out on the otherside of your crisis. It didn’t sweep you out to sea. It didn’t overwhelm you and take you under. And everything you learned in that journey, in that struggle with the riptide, you’ll now pour into your writing. You’re better for it. Your writing is better for it.

Live From Orlando

Yesterday, I arrived to a whirlwind of activities. First, I registered and received a canvas tote filled with swag. Next, I attended the "Readers for Life" Literacy Autographing. It was well attended by many authors in residence including Sherrilyn Kenyon, Nora Roberts, Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Jayne Ann Krentz, Courtney Milan, and Roxanne St. Clair. Everyone met with their favorite authors and had a great time.

Today's Keynote Speaker for the luncheon, celebrating 30 years of the Romance Writers of America, was the witty and fabulous Nora Roberts. She told everyone that writing was hard but that was what made it special. We think she's special as well.

Nearly all of the Rockville 8 joined me at the Washington Romance Writers (WRW) reception at Todd English's Bluezoo. (We missed you, Nicole!) In addition, I also saw Golden Heart Finalist Jane Sevier. This evening, both Jane and our very own Keely Thrall are attending a reception for the Golden Heart Finalists. Good luck to both of them!

What's A Girl To Do?

Today editors and agents run their own blog contests for the best five-minute pitch, they want query letters without actual writing samples, and they tweet about novels they’d like to acquire. How’s a girl supposed to keep up with the fast-paced changes in the publishing market today and land an agent or book deal? And what does it say about the current state of the market?

It tells us that agents and editors are still looking for talent, but they’re looking for it in new ways, ways that save them time and paperwork. We all know they’re overworked. They’d rather download submissions onto their Kindle or Sony e-Reader than schlep that five-pound manuscript with them on the subway. Who wouldn’t? The push to go electronic makes sense. It reduces stacks of paper and helps us all “go green.” Yay! We should all cheer.

The move to e-everything adds immediacy to the process of submitting manuscripts and concepts. It speeds up the publishing “machine.” Good. Right? Hmmm. Maybe. Or is it a double-edged sword? Writers expect to hear back from editors and agents more quickly, but editors and agents want ideas that are streamlined. Professionally pitched. Thus the trend towards the book pitch.

It takes a certain skill-set to write a pitch or a professional query letter that will “win” you an editor or agent. They’re judging your best work on your ability to deliver a concept in a way that tantalizes them in a few sentences or paragraphs.

If you want to get past the gatekeeper, which now seems to be the professional pitch or query letter, you must learn a whole new set of skills. You need to teach yourself to pitch like an experienced screen writer, query with the aptitude of an expert salesman, and distill like the most proficient abstracter to turn your four-hundred-page book into a sparking synopsis.

Okay, so we’re in the business of writing. We write novels. But at the end of the day, we’re writers. We can learn to write anything. Right? Yes. Learn the new skills. Adapt.

So, what’s a girl to do when she has the pitch perfected and the killer query written? She submits. There’s no way she can be in the right place at the right time with the vast number of blogs and twitter discussions out there. Some contend it’s luck. Well, there is a bit of luck involved. Always has been in the publishing business.

However, to increase your chances for those “lucky” opportunities, a wise woman stays connected. She joins professional associations to keep her “in the know.” She becomes part of a network of other writers who are looking out for each other. You need people who are truly looking out for your good. They like you. They love your writing. They know your writing. They support you and you support them. When one of them is on a blog that is suddenly running a contest perfect for your book, they’ll let you know. And you’ll do the same.

But reading blogs is a huge time sucker when you should be writing the next Great American Novel. Yes, spending three hours a day every day on blogs and following tweets would put a serious kink in your writing lifestyle. You might never finish your next manuscript. Yet, what if you could spend ten minutes a night to advance your career and help others in your writers’ support network do the same? Wouldn’t that be worth the effort? So just do it. Book mark your favorite sites and scan them a few minutes before you head to bed each night.

Then, share any juicy tidbits you come across. Give back. If you see a contest announced or a request for a submission for Romantic Suspense, but you write Women’s Fiction, share the info with your friend who writes Romantic Suspense. A “Do Unto Others” mentality will serve you well in the long run. Who knows? One day the perfect opportunity will find its way back to your own inbox. Whether you call it the Golden Rule or Karmic Law, it’s good business.

Whether the issue is time or energy, know your limits. If you’re not good at following blogs, get to know people who are. Network, chat, talk to them about what’s hot and in demand. Or, if you’re the quiet lurker who hates big chapter meetings, but you’re great at reading blogs and following twitter discussions, befriend a more extroverted people-person who loves to work the crowded room. Together you can help each other land your next deal. And you’ll have a little fun in the process.

So what’s a girl to do? Seize the day. Carpe Diem! Start today. Don’t put off perfecting your pitch, hammering out that killer query, networking, or submitting. Add it your busy schedule. Success is made, not found by accident. Work hard, stay connected and adapt. Use all of your skills. Believe in your success and one day soon you’ll see your book in print. Don’t just dream, make it a reality. You know what to do!

Pilgrimage

For many years, the Washington Romance Writers, a chapter of Romance Writers of America, held its annual retreat at the Hilltop House in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia. I remember driving up from DC for my first one. I had nerves, baby. Just who were these writers anyway?

It took another year before I relaxed enough to enjoy the journey to WV as part of the magical weekend we call In the Company of Writers. I started thinking of the drive as a pilgrimage - a necessary precursor to the weekend that allowed me to slough off work and worries and get into the proper mindset to appreciate the celebration ahead of craft, talent and people.

The other weekend a small group of writing friends gathered at the Boonsboro Inn. Traveling most of the same route from DC to rural Maryland, I experienced that feeling of preparation and transformation again. Of opening myself up to the spirit of the weekend and what it might bring. I had my most comfy fleece, had packed my computer and my favorite pillow. Leaving I70 for Rte 40, I felt my shoulders drop from my ears to, well, my shoulders. I admired the rolling hills and eclectic architecture of western Maryland. I exchanged writing histories with my traveling companion, swapped plotting tips, and hopes for the weekend and the future. We giggled and chuckled and chortled over just how lucky we were to be a part of this writer’s weekend. This journey to an immersion with folk wired with that little bit extra called storyteller.

Alas, the Hilltop House has bitten the dust. Age and the elements ganged up on the old girl and now she’s being scrapped and replaced with a modern day spa. The views will still be stunning, but the building itself will no longer be the Mecca for our writers it once was.

And that’s okay. We have a new home for our retreat in Virginia out Rte. 66. The road might not have the same visual appeal as that I traveled to Harper’s Ferry. But the act of leaving one space and place and way-of-being for another, the intentionality of becoming a modern day pilgrim, remains the same.

Those writers I mentioned at the top? Over the years they’ve become a necessary part of the whole. Fellow friends and pilgrims whose writer souls get wanderlust during cherry blossom season and ache to travel the path that leads them to be In the Company of Writers. Just like me.

With all your might

I'm truly sorry. But it has happened again. And I can only hope that next week when you stop by to read, no one will have died. But someone did, and I feel I must take a moment to tell you why this matters to me.

Salinger is dead. I have no scholarly insight to offer you; I can only tell you that his voice formed the writer I am and the writer I am becoming. It is and has been his lyrical, cynical, judgmental, patronizing, puzzled, thoughtful, idealistic, bewildered, lonely erudite voice that has echoed in my heart and ear for more than two decades. And I cannot believe that he is finally and forever gone, and with his death, that creative voice is now silenced.

There is nothing much to be said about the life or lifestyle of the man, Jerome David Salinger. It neither impressed nor altered my soul. He sounded like the worst kind of misanthrope who took patronizing to new levels. Besides, he was 91. It was probably as good an age to die as any. But I am not here to write about his life, his choices, his reclusiveness. Only, his voice.

No longer will words be plucked out of the universe and set carefully in certain orderly lines that in my view were meant to be written, meant to be read. When Zooey comforted his sister, Franny, and tried to draw her out of her stupor of the Pilgrim's prayer, he shared his idea of Jesus- a man who would join you for a glass of gingerale at the kitchen table. And ask for only a small glass.

Here was a Jesus that I understood. Here was a brother I understood. Here was a writer I understood.

I'm traveling just now, and my copies of Salinger's books, the used paperbacks, the early hardback editions that my brother found for me, are on the shelves in my living room, nestled between Douglas Adams and Jennifer Crusie. And I can't touch them, can't thumb through them, skim, dive in, remember a time when they were brand new to me, when I had yet to have read them, or even thumb through my dog-eared photocopy of "Hapworth 16, 1924" and remember the day I discovered it even existed.

It wasn't Catcher in the Rye that drew me; nor Nine Stories, whose stories saddened me as one by one, the Glass family let me down, those fictional, former contestants of It's a Wise Child who had seemed so precious and so wise in other stories. And "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" nearly killed me - though as a college student I understood both the lure and the hubris needed for suicide. Just not his. Not Seymour's.

No, the clarion call of JD Salinger sounded for me through Raise
High the Roofbeams, Carpenters/Seymour: An Introduction and Franny and Zooey. Here was the birth of my writing, and the solidification of my faith. I too wanted to write stories that could make their own way to the editor's desk by train with only a wax paper-wrapped sandwich and thermos of coffee for company. My stories too would one day make other passengers somewhat uncomfortable, I hoped. I felt his words. I understood in my teen-aged heart the Zen of shooting marbles. I wanted to tell Zooey that I would only ask for a small glass of ginger-ale, too.

I was in college when I first discovered his books, published in those solid, plain covers of white and green, mustard yellow, maroon. No frills. No pen and ink drawing of Holden, no shy watercolor of Franny. Just stripped down and serious. I wanted serious, something true and real, no gimmicks, no guile. I was 19 or 20, and really, who is more deep, who has more understanding of how the world works than a 20 year old? And who spoke to me about what really mattered? JD Salinger. Or more accurately, Buddy Glass.

I understood the Glass family. The paths that wove through the stacks of books in their apartment in New York City resonated with my childhood, binding my fantasies to my reality. An apartment crowded with brilliant, opinionated children, books and the smell of cooking meat and cigarettes. Elder siblings handing out reading lists to the younger, privacy invaded even in the bathtub, parents more than a little bemused by their offspring. This was the voice my heart heard.

Salinger in the flesh has never lived up to his alter-ego, Buddy Glass. Should I care? Allow his actions and pretensions rather than his writing to define his genius? Truth be told, the foundations have been laid too long and too solidly in my thoughts and writing for me to ever be released from the affect (some might say taint) of his voice. And I can only join with the cyber-wake in raising a glass- of whiskey as rye is a bit more difficult to come by these days- to salute the passing of the voice of JD Salinger.