Category: Support

About a month ago, I wrote a post on a writing quote from Anne Rice. Rice’s quote encourages writers to go where the pain is, where the pleasure is, wherever your passion is when writing. I believe this to be sound advice. However, I’ve found it hard to follow. In particular, I have a hard time going where the pain is. Opening wounds does not come easily to me, and my struggles make me wonder: are some wounds not meant to be opened, even for fiction?

I’ve sincerely tried opening wounds for my writing. I know that there’s a rich vein of emotional material there, but something keeps blocking me. Whenever I attempt to immerse myself in these pains and sensitivities, I hit a brick wall. It feels as though something clamps down on my skull and an unbreakable window stands between my writing self and those emotions.

Don’t get me wrong, my negative emotions and experiences do often slip into my writing. It’s when I consciously write those emotions, when I try directly opening wounds, that I can’t access them.

Ray Bradbury once said that thinking is the death of creativity. Is that the case here? It certainly doesn’t help. When we overthink the pain we’re trying to access, we fear revisiting it. At least I do. Self-preservation dictates we avoid that which causes us pain. If memories and emotions cause pain, our minds and bodies will do all they can to avoid those wounds.

Does that mean we should avoid opening wounds? Are some scars too fresh or deep to touch, or should we push past the avoidance reflex for the sake of good writing? Do we just need to stop overthinking it?

My answer is a firm maybe.

Really, the memories and emotions we want to avoid make our writing rich and real. If we’re so deeply affected by them, our readers will be, too. Still, we have to take our mental well-being into account. If we have severe mental and/or physical reactions to opening wounds, those wounds may not be ready to pick at yet. Someday we might be ready but, at the moment, we’re not.

Sometimes writing can help us work through our emotions, like therapy. Sometimes we need to forget that other people might read the work to let the emotions seep through uncensored. Many times, we need to abandon the idea of directly accessing emotions and memories and let our subconscious write for us. We may not get what we originally set out to do, but we’ll at least have solid material to work with.

Emotions are the, to state the obvious, the heart of writing. Anything written without them turns out like crud. That’s why we can’t let ourselves shut out our personal selves while we’re writing. We may not react the same way as a character should or we may blather on in order to work through raw emotions, but those problems are best ironed out when rewriting. The initial writing phase is all about getting words onto paper; we need to let our id speak then and give our ego and super ego the stage later.

Do you have a hard time writing about painful emotions or personal pain? Have you found a way to push past that brick wall? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.

If you like this post, be sure to sign up for e-mail notifications of new content and our newsletter, The Scrapbook, through the links provided in the menu.

 

Earlier today, I read an article from The Writer about creating DIY writing retreats, whether at a friend’s house or at a home rented in Mexico. The author has many interesting ideas and makes many good points. The two most important she discuss, in my opinion, are the need for no distractions and the need to set your own definition of “productive”. However, most of the ideas in the article involve either you going away or the other people in your house going away. What if we simply can’t do that?

I’ve discussed finding the best place to write multiple times on this blog. Somehow, I can’t ever find the right place. I can’t afford to leave and, unlike the author of the aforementioned article, no one I know plans to leave town for too long anytime soon. Even if they were, at best I’d only be down the street from the chaos. I can’t send everyone else away, either; they have their own responsibilities to take care of here and they can’t walk away for more than a day or two without a lot of advanced planning. I get some writing done in those short bursts of freedom, but lately it hasn’t been enough.

I know a lot of writers have this issue. We have family, social obligations, work (we have to pay the bills somehow), pets, chores, the list goes on. I can hear the objections to this belly-aching already: if you’re a real writer, if writing is so important to you, you’ll make some sacrifices and find a way to fit it in.

I’m sorry but I need money, so I can’t pay to leave and I can’t close down shop (figuratively) for more than a week or two. It also doesn’t help that not everyone gets the hint to shut up when I say I’m working.

Well then, what’s the plan? How can we create DIY writing retreats when we can’t go away or send others away?

Desperate times call for desperate measures; it’s time for plan “barricade myself in my room (or spare room)”. It’s a bit obvious but often the obvious answer is the right one.

Locking yourself in a room within the house with your browser closed and phone turned off allows you to exist in a sort of vacuum almost free of all distractions. Of course, if you live in an area like mine, there’s still plenty of noises that you’ll have to block out. That’s where you’ll have to get creative. Play music you can write to, invest in noise-cancelling headphones, buy a cheap pair of disposable earplugs, whatever it takes. My personal favorite is playing a string of TV shows or movies I’ve watched a thousand times before; I can block that out a lot better than crowing roosters and people talking outside my door.

The fun part comes in personalizing your DIY writing retreats. Hang up posters and artwork you find inspiring; line bookshelves with your favorite books and works by writers you admire; a whiteboard, cork board, or sticky notes to jot ideas down; if you have a mini-fridge taking up space in the garage or storage, you could really make it a retreat. A mini-fridge stocked with essentials, a makeshift mailbox constructed from a cereal box slapped on the outside of the door, and a bed, cot, or sleeping bag and you’ll only need to leave for the bathroom.

Whether it’s for a few hours after work or a couple weeks, you can make your own retreat without anyone leaving the house. You just have to get creative and assertive. Insist that no one bother you, that someone else walk the dog and do the dishes. After all, people can’t tease you for being a writer who doesn’t write if they complain about what needs to be done in order for you to write.

What are your thoughts on writing retreats? Have any ideas for DIY writing retreats you’d like to share? Drop a line the comments below and help other writers find ways to solitude.

 

I’ve been very busy lately. Between book reviews, writing gigs, and my home life, I can barely stop to think, let alone write. It’s an unfortunately common problem for writers. Considering that society, particularly American society, seems to expect more and more of people, it’s no wonder writers struggle to stay afloat. The question becomes: how do we make time for writing?

Writers at all levels have responsibilities which take precedent over writing. Family, friends, household chores, a 9-5 job, it’s no wonder they have to scrape together all the time they can for writing. That’s excluding the marketing and publicity they have to generate once something of theirs gets published, and don’t get me started on editing.

Often when I read articles about fitting time for writing, the author treats the matter as though it’s just as easy as telling people to leave you alone for a while or turning the TV and social media off. It really isn’t.

We can’t always force our schedule to allow space for a solid hour or so of writing. It’s even harder when other people, like employers and family, are involved. What should we do if we can’t reserve a long chunk of our day for writing?

The answer is obvious, although challenging in practice: take minutes here and there to write down whatever is on your mind. I’ve personally found that my brain wants to write and makes the time for writing when I’m trying to get to sleep. While I really just want to sleep, I still keep a notebook beside my bed and spend a few minutes–whether it’s five or thirty–writing the scene or story idea that has popped into my groggy head. The notes app on my iPhone has also proved helpful in such situations. Whether or not I can decipher my writing in the morning is a different story entirely.

Take a notebook with you everywhere or, at the very least, make your notes app easily accessible. Five minutes on the bus, five minutes during your lunch break, five minutes while waiting outside your kids’ school, it can really add up. This form of time management doesn’t always make for the best writing since the interruptions can jar your thought process. However, would you rather start out with crappy writing or no writing at all?

Some people can carve out an hour or so from their lives and write better that way. In a perfect world, that’s probably how we would all like to make time for writing. We don’t live in a perfect world. We have distractions and stubborn schedules which can’t be rearranged without some part of our lives tumbling down. That’s why we have to take our writing whenever we can get it; if that means stealing a few minutes here and a few minutes there, well, that’s just the sacrifice we have to make to continue with our craft.

Have advice for making time to write? Any tricks to sneak writing in when it seems impossible? Leave your thoughts in the comments.

 

Let’s face it, we’re conditioned from a young age to associate the summer months with taking a break from everything and relaxing. At least, that’s what Americans learn. I can’t speak for anyone else. Regardless, the school system I grew up with enforced the idea that summer is a time for relaxing and having fun, not doing any work. Suffice to say, this idea breeds bad habits which must be broken abruptly as adults. Considering I’m still attending school in the form of a Master’s program, I’m having a hard time remolding my way of thinking. It’s led to an annoying writer’s block, which I will call my “summer writing slump.”

My writer’s block usually follows the same pattern. First, I have a hard time conjuring an idea for a story or I can’t focus on one idea at a time. My brain bounces from one thought to the next, never settling on one long enough for me to fully pursue it. Then I slip into the worry that nothing I write will ever be of significance and/or live up to what people liked in my writing before. It feels like I’m trying to capture lightning in a bottle, a fruitless effort. The end result? I get nothing done and I have to up my “as-needed” anti-anxiety pills.

How is the summer writing slump different? I have a built-in excuse: I have all summer to knock the rust off before classes start again. I don’t need to force the muse yet. I have plenty of time to get myself back into shape and have a really productive year.

Well, it’s August now and I’ve only written one short, really cruddy story, if it can be called that. I know that everyone gets into a writing slump occasionally, but I can’t let myself get too rusty or else I’ll lose my edge entirely. It’s taken a long time for me to create my arsenal of writing tools; it’ll only be a lateral move to let myself slip out of practice while my program’s on break.

Why am I telling you this? To remind my readers to never take too long a break from writing. Yes, a break can help you shake off writer’s block when you’re really stuck. However, it can also lead to writer’s block. Just like we can’t have the entire summer off from our 9-5 jobs, we can’t have the entire summer off from our writing. It’s a job and a skill. We have to be disciplined enough to maintain momentum in our careers and take the time to practice our craft.

We must also remind ourselves that it’s OK to write crappy first drafts. Heck, it’s OK to have all drafts of a story be crappy (if we don’t plan to publish it). At least then we can learn what does not work in our writing. If we’re too afraid to let ourselves write badly, we won’t write at all. Then we’ll be stuck in a perpetual summer writing slump.

Thoughts? Comments? Advice for escaping the summer writing slump? Leave your thoughts in the comments and remember to sign up for our newsletter for a chance at the monthly giveaway.

 

We all know the saying: jack of all trades, master of none. For those who don’t know, the phrase refers to someone who dabbles in many areas but does not master any. The saying makes sense overall; the more we spread our focus and talents, the less energy we have to put into any one task. Hence, we know a lot of trades but we master none of them. But is that truly the case nowadays, especially for writers? Do we really have to choose between being a jack of all trades or mastering one?

I’m sure that, by now, you’ve read some variation of the article on Business Insider which lists the fifteen habits of self-made millionaires. If you haven’t, I highly recommend it. Even if those habits won’t work for you, it makes for a fascinating read.

These habits include developing multiple sources of income.

This concept is not exactly the same as dabbling in multiple trades–after all, investing in stocks can be considered a source of income but not necessarily a “trade” like we are discussing here–but some of the reasoning can apply to both. In earning money, the wider you cast your net, the more you’re likely to bring in. The same is true with trades and hobbies. The more we do, the more experiences and skills we gather.

Does that mean it’s better to be a jack of all trades than a master of one? Not necessarily.

If we spread ourselves too thin, we will have neither the energy nor the focus to really complete any task competently. Let’s say that you’re trying to write a novel, edit a project for a client, write a blog review of the latest episode of American Horror Story, and dabble in a traditional 9-to-5 job at Barnes and Noble. I’m guessing you’re exhausted just thinking about it; I know I am. Odds are that you won’t get all of this done in the same week. Heck, balancing it all within the same month plus your daily social and familial obligations would be a stretch. We can’t do it all without burning ourselves out.

I learned this lesson early on, although I probably haven’t heeded it too well since my first experience. In high school, I tried to do it all: zero-period Physics, AP Calculus, Yearbook, leadership (a class, basically a form of student government with volunteering mixed in), student representative to the school staff, school liaison to the school board and city council, and a weekend volunteer at a local museum. I was incredibly overwhelmed, and it was this period in my life which really sparked my anxiety and stomach problems. (There were issues at home which made it worse, too.) I don’t like looking back at that time out of embarrassment and a feeling of failure. Frankly, I’m not sure how I made valedictorian.

In addition to causing us to explore things superficially, too much dabbling and multitasking can kill us inside. As I said in my workaholics post, writers tend to work too hard because we’re a bit addicted to it. Still, that habit of being a jack of all trades can wear us down.

Does that mean that we should only master one trade? Again, not necessarily.

The experiences and skills which we gather from our other trades and hobbies feed into the trades we master. For me, the trades I am attempting to master are writing and literature. In particular, I focus on fiction and academic creative writing. However, I have other hobbies and trades which fuel these two. I workshop and proofread other writers’ manuscripts, which helps me to strengthen my self-critiquing skills. I review published books, which forces me to see books simultaneously as a reader and a writer. Oddly enough, I also dabble into business concepts. I don’t try to master business or anything like that; I’m just fascinated by everything behind it, from finding the break-even point to marketing and promotion. This interest makes me better prepared to promote my own work, as well as the work of those I review and critique.

Being a jack of all trades does not always mean you’re a master of none, not in this day and age. You have to tread lightly and balance every aspect of your life very carefully, but you can still dabble in multiple areas and master one or two. As with reading and writing diversely, sharpening your skills with multiple trades and hobbies can teach you lessons which you then bring back to your main focus. Rather than one or the other, I think that all well-rounded people, writers especially, must be both a jack of all trades and a master of one (or some).

 

Most artists don’t like negative feedback. Writers are no exception. We put our time, blood, sweat, and tears into our writing; it’s an extension of ourselves. This link intensifies when we conjure the courage to publish. Reading a “bad” review of our latest publication feels like a friend bashing us on Facebook. Maybe we’re overreacting to minor criticism or maybe the person who wrote it really is being a jerk. Some people have sticks up their butts and want to troll the world. That’s a sad fact of life. Still, not all “bad” reviews and negative feedback are meant to be mean. Despite what we might tell ourselves or vent to our loved ones, they may not be entirely baseless, either. Rather, these criticisms are just honest reviews.

As with negative feedback from alpha and beta readers, our knee-jerk reaction to honest reviews can be rash and disastrous. We may blame ourselves and our writing, start badmouthing our entire being, and threaten to give up. On the flip side, we may brush it off as people hating us, our writing style, the genre, whatever, and decide that the reviews aren’t worth our time or energy. While the second option protects our fragile egos and prevents an immediate shut-down of our careers, both could damage us as artists.

I’ve preached repeatedly that you shouldn’t give up when things seem bleak, and I’ll continue to do so in the future. What I want to discuss here is the value of pursuing honest reviews, rather than ignoring them.

All writers know that, in the workshop/editing phase, we must evaluate negative feedback rationally and decide which remarks are helpful. But what about after publication? What should we do about negative reviews? If they damage our marketability, how could they possibly help us?

Despite the potential hit to sales, receiving negative reviews are a blessing in disguise, so long as they are honest.

First of all, honest reviews may not impact book sales the way you would think, even if they are negative. Yes, a review which critiques the work may deter people from reading it. However, The Ramblings of a Madwoman pointed out that readers are also more likely to choose a book if the accompanying reviews are genuine. One- or two-line positive reviews seem suspicious. Did someone drop fluff in the feedback without reading the book? Did the writer’s family or friends post these reviews to boost the writer’s confidence? If readers doubt the authenticity of the review, they’ll question the quality of the book itself.

Beyond the sales perspective, honest reviews can show you where your writing can improve. If multiple reviewers point out spelling or grammar errors, you should consider more thorough proofreading. If people appear to be harping on one aspect of the book–character development, plot, setting–you can focus on developing your skills in that area.

In some cases, you can act on honest reviews by adjusting the piece they critique. The increasing presence of e-books, small publishing companies, and self-publishing allows for more frequent re-printings. Did the review mention spelling and grammar errors? You, your editor, and/or your publisher can make note of these errors and fix them in the e-book and other re-releases of the work. Are you receiving a lot of negative critiques of your self-published book? Perhaps it’s time for you to re-read it with a fresh eye and work on re-writes. That’s the miracle of self-publishing; if you prematurely put the book on sale, honest reviews can help you see the mistake and go back to the drawing board.

Most importantly, though, you can carry these lessons into your future endeavors. You don’t have to entirely change your writing style or topics to please critics. In fact, I strongly discourage such alterations. Instead, you can keep the honest reviews at the back of your mind as you edit and rewrite your next piece. So and so said the main character for your last book was flat, does your current protagonist have depth? Most reviews complained that your transitions were clunky, should you read the new scenes aloud to see how the transitions feel? Many readers found typos in your last self-published novel, have you truly fixed all the errors this time? Should you hire an outside editor? Multiple? Can you trust the editor you used last time, or do all these complaints suggest they dropped the ball?

“Bad” reviews are hard to receive, even when they are honest (or perhaps especially). As with negative critiques from workshops, we must take them with a grain of salt. We cannot let them ruin our self-confidence and deter us, but we can’t ignore them, either. They may contain a kernel of wisdom which would take our writing to the next level, if only we listen.

What are your thoughts on honest reviews? Would you prefer an honest “bad” review or a review that blows sunshine your way? Some “bad” reviews really are left by trolls and haters. How do you ween them out?

Leave your thoughts and stories in the comments below. You can also e-mail me at thewritersscrapbin@gmail.com, connect with the blog on Facebook, or follow me at @dragonet07 or @writersscrapbin on Twitter.

If you would like me to read and review your published work, look me up on Fiverr and we can arrange an order.

 

Let’s face it, writers tend to have obsessive personalities. I know I do. Harry Potter, Disney, Dragonriders of Pern role play, I can even become obsessed with school and freelance work. Perhaps that’s why writers are able to write; our brains simply won’t let the material go until we have completed the project to our satisfaction. Sometimes that means that we never let a project go, instead turning it into an entire series of books, stories, poems, or essays. That’s great. After all, that means we will never be wanting for material. But what about when we become obsessed with our work, to the point that we snap if we get interrupted? It makes me wonder: are writers workaholics?

Writers are rather contradictory by nature. We dread writing and yet we dread not writing even more. I’ve been busy with various freelance jobs recently and, as a result, I haven’t been able to focus my imaginative power enough to work on my own writing. It’s killing me. I’m riding a high from working on other projects but a part of me dies when I don’t write. I know that other writers feel the same way.

I suppose that people can easily become workaholics when they love what they do. As they say, those who do what they love will never work a day in their lives. Since writers simultaneously love and dread what they do, it’s no wonder they pick up workaholic traits. Add to that the obsessive behavior and you will no longer be mystified by writers who lock themselves away for days on end working on their latest novel or poetry collection.

So, we’re workaholics. All artists are. Is that a bad thing? Not always.

On the one hand, workaholic behavior can increase productivity. That’s a given. You work more and more work gets done. As long as we have something to focus on, we’re also happy. Frustrated, perhaps, especially when we have writer’s block or get interrupted, but happy nonetheless. Eventually, that increased productivity may also lead to more money if our work sells.

Increased productivity, happiness, and money, what could possibly go wrong?

Unfortunately, as with most workaholics, writers burn the candle at both ends. We push ourselves to our absolute limits, ignoring our other needs and the needs of those who rely on us. We may feel happy while we’re working but, in the long run, we risk destroying other aspects of our lives.

In life and in writing, we have to balance work and other needs/desires very carefully. If we don’t write at all, we die inside. If we let writing take over our lives entirely, we lose those relationships and experiences that enrich our art. When we finally achieve that balance, that is when we are truly happy and successful. More importantly, that is when our work becomes its best, infused with the passion of our minds and the richness of real life experiences.

Do you think writers are workaholics? Obsessive? How do you handle the work/life balance? Leave your thoughts in the comments or join the conversation on our Facebook page.