This Year, Go Big or Go Home

A popular post from January 2014

by Annette Lyon

Last month, as I have for well over a decade, I attended another Christmas dance recital to watch my daughter light up on stage. As usual, her grace performing (this time ballet) didn't disappoint.

A different dance number jumped out at me for a different reason, however. Most likely, it jumped out at every member of the audience: a hip-hop piece. The number was well choreographed, and the star dancer, a sixth grade black boy, stayed front and center, and for good reason. He was nothing short of jaw-droppingly amazing.

Every move he made was powerful and precise. He exuded joy and energy and attitude and got the audience excited, returning his energy a thousand-fold.

The few times my eyes strayed from him, I regretted it.

Why? The other hip-hop dancers on stage with him weren't anywhere in the realm of his league, for starters. But that in and of itself wasn't the problem. The real problem was that the other dancers didn't seem to be trying at all. 

In dance speak, they were marking the routine rather than dancing full out, as if they were afraid of looking stupid doing the moves, so, hey, I'll do them small and weak, and maybe no one will notice.

To be honest, the other dancers looked almost embarrassed to be up there. Surely they knew they weren't as good as the star, but by not doing their best, by not going full out, they looked even worse. Their movements looked sloppy and weak. They looked unsure and had so little energy that as an audience member, I found watching them to be total yawn fest. At least, when I wasn't cringing.

Worst of all, I made the discovery that when hip hop is performed halfway, it does look really, really silly, which I can almost guarantee was the dancers' (and, I'd wager, every artist's) worst fear. Do it halfway, and you'll look ridiculous. Do it full-out, and you're on to something.

As I sat in the audience, it dawned on me that writing is somewhat the same way.

Writing and putting your work out for an audience can be downright terrifying. But you can't play into that fear. If a writer backs away from being as strong and powerful and in control of their work as they can and should be, that is the moment when the work looks sloppy, weak, and chaotic. It's as if the writer wasn't at the helm, had no idea what to do next, and simply hoped no one noticed the missteps.

And yes, there will be times a writer is unsure. We have all taken risks in our work (or we should have). We all have grown, so we've all had our weaker moments, and will continue as we (hopefully) keep growing. The risks that have the best shot of working are the ones we commit to: the ones we write full-out. The minute we start marking a risk or a new technique, hoping no one will notice we're unsure and scared? That is the moment our work looks sloppy and weak.

Watching that hip-hop routine, I thought back to times where I've seen writers who have poured their souls into their work, even into a first draft, when maybe they weren't entirely at the skill level they wanted to be at. But they were trying with everything in their souls. The result: riveting and exciting writing anyway. As a reader, I find myself forgiving errors or weak spots because I see the passion and power that lies behind the writing. On the flip side, I'm far more likely to give up on prose that happens to be free of typos but lacks any heart.

So however you write, whether it's sitting at the keyboard or curling up with a notebook and pen, don't hold back. Yes, you may have some missteps along the way; that's to be expected. Maybe you aren't (yet) as good as other writers you're "on stage" with.

But chances are, if you hold back, your work will only draw negative attention to itself, and you won't grow. You'll never reach that glorious point where the eyes are all on you, where people's jaws drop in awe and admiration at the feats you just pulled off.

And remember: Every time a writer steps on stage, he or she is writing all by themselves. We must write full out, every single time.

Is baring your soul, pouring your all into your work, easy? No. Unequivocally no. But I'm convinced that doing so is the only way to ever be great.

So for this new year, here's my challenge for a resolution:

Get in the game, all the way. Write full-out every time. Leave the fear on the wings of the stage.

When you write, be that amazing kid in the front who made the dance look cool and amazing and awesome instead of the ones in the back who made it look, well, silly.

In other words, go all the way. Go big, or go home.

(I don't really want you to go home. Just decide to go big!)

Step Away from the Manuscript

A popular post from October 2009

by Annette Lyon

I know of writers who claim there is no such thing as writer's block. In a sense, that's true. No matter what the situation, you can sit down, put your hands on the keyboard, and plunk out some words.

But will they be any good?

I've also heard people say that claiming you have writer's block is akin to a plumber saying he's got plumber's block.

To me, that comparison is ridiculous, because a plumber doesn't have to come up with a fresh, new way of fixing a pipe every time. He's got the exact same wrenches and other tools, and a pretty clear-cut list of leaks, clogs, and other issues he'll likely need to fix on any given day.

He doesn't need to find a unique voice, a fresh metaphor, a brand new way to plot a wrench, for Pete's sake. For that matter, if he's good at what he does, he can probably do most of his work without giving it too much thought. He might enjoy a periodic challenge because it's a change in his daily routine.

On the flip side, writers must come up with something new and different each time we sit down. Using the same proverbial wrench every day would be boring or, worse, cliche.

Sure, we can force ourselves to show up at the keyboard, but frankly, sometimes, showing up isn't the best thing to do. Sometimes our creative side needs a break to figure out where we've gone wrong, where to head next, what our character is trying to accomplish, where the plot has gone off into a ditch, what's missing.

And that means walking away from the keyboard.

Paraphrasing an interview I recently read with Audrey Niffenegger (author of The Time Traveler's Wife), writers can often solve problems by coming at them sideways, while working on something else creative. She paints and lets her mind drift. She doesn't force herself to think about her characters or story, but sometimes her mind goes there, and her characters decide to come slip into her mind, showing up with their own answers.

I've found the same thing happening when I let go and stop trying to chase the answers down. The more I try to force the story or the characters to face me head-on, they more they elude me just as I'm about to grab hold of them.

But if let them roam free and I do something else with my mind, letting them come to me, I find that eventually, they will.

For me, sometimes that means setting up my sewing machine and tackling the giant pile of mending my children's clothing. Other times it might be cleaning out a closet or pulling out my knitting needles for a new project.

Maybe I'll go on a walk several days in a row to let my brain think all the messy thoughts it wants to and eventually "unkink" and drift.

Often I find answers while driving, but only if I'm alone in the car and I turn off the radio and drive in silence.

In the summers, weeding a garden or mowing a lawn can do the same thing. Or scrubbing a kitchen floor. In the winter, try shoveling snow.

Do the dishes. Hand-washing is particularly effective for overcoming blocks. So is folding laundry.

I know that it's a pain in some ways that so many of these techniques are chores. (Darn it.) But the reality is that they work. You accomplish something without using a lot of mental energy.

That's the key, because you trick your mind: it knows it's getting something valuable done, yet it's not under pressure to be productive by itself, to be "on" and creative.

Therefore, as you work, your mind gives itself permission to play . . . and a tiny part of it drifts (sometimes you aren't even aware that your mind is working) . . . and then it becomes creative (again, you may not even know it) . . . and then WHAM! the answers come.

Sometimes all it takes is a couple of hours of a different activity. Sometimes it's a few days or even a week or two. But it works.

I'm always amazed when the answers show up. They're clear. They're vivid. They sparkle. And they're always something so much better than I could have come up with on my own by forcing my behind to stay in the chair and by pounding out my word count goal for the day.

That's not to say that writing goals don't have their place; they're very effective, and I use them regularly when drafting. But when occasional blocks smack you in the face, pause and take stock.

If you think it's time, step away from the manuscript. Don't feel guilty about doing so.

Wait for the answers to come while you darn a sock or bake a cake.

(If it's chocolate, save some for me.)

Critique Group: How Mine Works

A popular post from April 2012

by Annette Lyon

Some time ago, I addressed this topic (you can read that post HERE), but things have changed, and the question has popped up a few times recently, so I thought it worth addressing again.

My critique group currently has seven members, but rarely can all of us meet at the same time. So we typically have weekly meetings, rotating between three member homes in three cities, if at least three of us can attend. We usually get four or five. We try to arrange weekly meetings, so if (or, rather, when) some can't attend, it's okay; another meeting is coming around the corner.


Everyone brings a scene or chapter (6-8 pages typically, but sometimes more or less) and a copy for everyone. Each writer reads their pages aloud while we all take notes on our copies. Then each person goes around the table with 2-3 minutes of their critique. Sometimes we end up with discussions where we figure out how to fix something, disagree on a point, whatever. Normally, one person's piece takes about 30 minutes.

Some groups are really strict with "shop talk," but we know that that's a big part of getting together—no one gets this weird writing thing like other writers. So we let ourselves have about 30 minutes upfront for chit chat before buckling down. (Not that we don't get silly and chatty in between . . .)

We meet at 7:00 or 7:30, depending on schedules, and try to be done around 10:30 or so.

Treats are optional, but welcome.

Before we were all published and had deadlines, we read entire manuscripts this way, but times have changed. No way can we get through entire manuscripts before submission. Now we skip around, bringing parts we're struggling with or want to be sure we're getting right. Beginnings almost always show up. Sometimes, when we're getting ready to submit something, members will swap full manuscripts for critiques.

We all started out as newbies but with serious dedication. As a few dropped off or moved out, we brought in people who already had higher skill levels, since we'd grown as well.

In my opinion, a group works best if the members are roughly on the same skill level. If they aren't, those behind can't really contribute in a way that's valuable (their feedback isn't helpful, as they don't know enough). On the flip side, a member way ahead of others won't get value from those who aren't as far along the writing path. Plus, their feedback may be more than those starting out are ready for; it could be too harsh or simply not understandable. The way I see it, a slight variation is skill level is fine, but not a big one.

You'll likely find members who have varying strengths, which I've found useful. One person may be extra good at character motivation, another at showing, another at pacing, and yet another at conflict. A spectrum of strengths will raise everyone's game.

When looking for people to create a group, you'll want personality compatibility as well as dedication. If someone is a killer writer but never shows up (or regularly comes an hour late), doesn't write (so their skills lag behind everyone else's), and so on, there's not much point in having them in the group.

Some groups are big with sticking with a single genre, but we're all over the place, from middle grade to women's fiction, romance to horror, memoir to dystopian. As long as everyone is well-read and has a clue about how other genres work, having many shouldn't be a problem. I do know of some groups that specialize in specific genres, and imagine that may have its own advantages, but mixing genres has never been an issue for us.

Have critique group tips of your own? Share them in the comments!

Where'd I Go?

by Annette Lyon

I'm getting seriously tired and cranky over here.

The past week or so has been spent proofing my galleys and working on a proposal for promoting my next book, a proposal I just gave to the marketing and PR people at my publisher. Oh, and I've kept up on my personal blog, sort of (doing scheduled posts because I knew I'd be struggling to find actual time to write them).

The business side. That's pretty much all the writing-related work I've done in the last week and a half.

And it's making me loopy.

I learned several years ago that if I don't get some actual creative writing in on a regular basis, then life falls apart at the seams. I'm seeing it yet again. Everything I'm doing is writing-related, but it's a step removed from the creative act. It's the logical, administrative side of things.

And as far as my inner writer is concerned, it doesn't count. And she's rebelling.

I first learned about this phenomenon nearly a decade ago at a time when I thought I was "too busy" to write. I had managed to get a few articles published, but that was it; I hadn't had any luck with fiction.

I had three little kids and a demanding job at church, among other things. I figured that when things calmed down a bit (whatever that means), I'd return to my writing.

So I took two months off. My life imploded.

Suddenly, no matter how hard I tried, I felt like I was on a hamster wheel, going nowhere. I had less time for my kids and my husband and my church job. The house was a bigger mess. The kids fought more and were generally more irritable. I was losing my mind.

Finally, in the middle of the cyclone, I threw caution to the wind and took about twenty minutes two days in a row to sit at the computer and write. That's less time than an episode of Sesame Street.

Can you guess what happened?

Yep. The cyclone calmed right down.

I learned right then and there that I can't put off writing until later, like I hear so many people say, especially the old excuse, "I'll do it when the kids are older." For my kids' sake, I'd better not stop. They deserve a mother who's not on the brink of a nervous breakdown, and writing is the way to keep their mother even-keeled.

Granted, there's a balance. Now that I have deadlines, book signings, conferences, and more, I have to be more careful with family and how much my writing intrudes. I can't just take twenty minutes here and there for my personal therapy (not if I want my editor to speak to me again, anyway).

Attending my critique group is the same thing. If I go too many weeks without it, I start resembling a crazy monkey clawing the walls. Once when I'd missed a few weeks, I said I'd better not go yet again, since we had a sick kid. My husband took me by the shoulders and nudged me toward the door.

"Go. Please. I need my wife back."

I'm there again, not feeling like myself. My husband could use his wife back again. My kids are probably wondering what happened to their mother.

I need to sit down and write a scene from my work in progress. I need that creative flow. I need to find me again.

Tonight, I'm going to my critique group. And tomorrow, you won't find me analyzing promotion ideas or worrying about the proof or thinking about press releases.

Instead, I will draft more of the novel I'm working on.

I'm going to love every minute of it.

And I have a suspicion that I'll find myself on the other side.

Survival Tips for the Parent Slash Writer

By Heather Moore

“How do you write novels with four kids?” I’ve been asked that question many times at book signings and author events. Sometimes I coyly answer, “When I wrote my first novel, I only had three kids.”

The truth is . . . I’ve only seen one entire episode of American Idol. None of Lost and only the first episode of 24, but now that the seasons are out on DVD, maybe I’ll try to watch a couple . . . at midnight . . . or not. My laundry takes three days to do, and then it’s time to start over again.

Dinner is, well . . . lacking on most days, but I wasn’t that great of a cook before I became so obsessed.

But really, I am lucky. I don’t have to write to earn money. So why do I write when my kids are ages four through fourteen? Why don’t I use my down time to relax and watch a favorite program or catch up on several years of scrapbooking, or even my ultimate desire—read a novel without worrying about research, editing, or my daily writing goal?

Well, because I breathe easier when I write. It rounds out my identity even when I’m writing this blog and have no idea if it will ever be read by another person. I reap joy and fulfillment . . . and incredible busyness so that by ten in the morning I am left literally breathless with all the things I want to accomplish.

One day at a time. That’s survival tip number one.

2. Laptop. When you can afford this luxury (or necessity, says I), invest in a laptop. You can sit on your couch or at your kitchen table and tap a few paragraphs here and there. At the same time you are keeping a watchful eye on your preschooler. (Note: when she starts to hit the computer screen, it’s time for a break.)

3. Wireless internet. Another luxury, but it makes the laptop all that more accessible when you want to check your email every so often, or every five minutes . . . just in case that NY agent is just dying to see the remainder of your manuscript and must have it within the hour.

4. Carpet Cleaner. What? Recently while I was in the shower (not writing, so there is no guilt associated with this mishap) my four year old dumped the orange juice onto the carpet. Now, I can wipe up a mess on the tile faster than the Bounty hunk, but carpet? That could take a good twenty minutes of blotting, rinsing, blotting, spraying, scrubbing, rinsing . . . A carpet cleaner, maybe five minutes. And it’s really clean. Did I mention I have a do-it-all-herself four year old?

5. Peanut M&M’s. Now I don’t recommend buying the five pound bags at Costco, but if you are trying to save shopping trips maybe it’s all right. Pick your poison, and you’ll be surprised at how a yummy treat can help to motivate you as you write. “If I keep writing, I get to keep snacking.” Or if you are concerned about the calories, don’t read the ingredients. Worse case scenario, pop some butter-free popcorn. I thought about dedicating my next book to Peanut M&M’s . . . I still might . . . Just remember to rotate your hiding place in case your spouse gets a hankering for them too.

Oh, I just thought of number six. A good friend. Even better—a good friend with kids who are similar ages to yours. You can pick a day or two during the week and switch. This gives the kids play time and when it’s your friend’s turn . . . sacred writing time . . .

I hope this helps at least one parent in his/her writing quest. As for me, I’m taking one day at a time and keeping a bag of Peanut M&M’s in my desk drawer.

The Rewards Happy Authors Deserve

By Julie Wright

Writing is sometimes a thankless job with no reward. We spin words on thousands of pages that no one but our moms have read; we mail off queries and get back rejections. We smile over gritted teeth when our friends get contracts, and try to remember that we love our friends, and we're really happy for them. It's hard to stay motivated

If you want a child to do something—to get a chore done—I’ve heard that reward is the greatest tool. If that doesn't work you can try taking away privileges or punishment to motivate the child.

But what happens if you want an *adult* to do something. What happens when you want *yourself* to do something?

I am not easily motivated. As an adult I am no longer swayed by enticements of candy or cookies. I can get those things if I want them--anytime I want them. I'm an adult. That's the perk of being an adult.

And I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I should up the reward. Okay fine, if I get my book written, I'll get to go on an exotic trip to Tahiti. Except, I know what my checking account contains (or doesn't contain, as the case may be . . . hello? I'm an author . . .). So I have to be responsible. That's the non-perk of being an adult.

Motivating someone who already knows what they can and can't do is a tough proposition. But I still think it can be done with a few tips to make it easier.

• Self Control--It's necessary to use good self control to make sure your motivating factors are really motivating. With kids, it's easy to reward or withhold a reward when they do the things they do. You put the cookies up on the higher shelf. You lock up the x-box and hide the key. But when we are self governed it's a little harder. We know where the keys are, and we can reach that high shelf with very little effort. Being honest with yourself and refraining from partaking of an unearned reward will make the reward that much sweeter when you genuinely earn it.
• Set a daily goal, a weekly goal, a monthly goal, and a final goal. And reward yourself at special milestones. So let's say every fifty pages, you get a manicure, or a massage, or you get a movie night. It makes the journey of writing a little sweeter. I know that our very own Annette Lyon uses chocolate as a motivator. When she finished a daily goal she rewarded herself with a little bit of the really good chocolate. We're not talking Hershey's here. Were talking real CHOCOLATE.
• Make the final goal something a little bigger. Most of us cannot afford a trip to Tahiti, but maybe you can get play tickets or a weekend getaway to somewhere close by, or season tickets to whatever your favorite sport is. I reward myself with books. When I finish writing a novel, I allow myself to read. I allow myself to read five to ten books in between each novel I write. This makes it so much easier for me not to get distracted in other people's stories and provides me something to work for. I will buy a book (or several books) that I REALLY want to read and put them up on my desk where I have to look at them, knowing I cannot crack their spines until I am done.
• Make submission goals as well as writing goals. It's great to get a book written, but if you don't submit it to anyone . . . so what? You can't exactly make a goal that states, "I will be published by June." You can't control the publishers and agents. So keep your goals within the realm of things you can control. Set goals for submitting: I will query five different agencies every week for the next six months.
• Make networking goals. Attending writer's conferences provides you further education and builds friendships with people who understand what you're going through. Make a goal to attend one major conference a year and to maybe attend several smaller ones to help you stay at the top of your game. Make a goal to meet with at least two agents or editors at every conference you attend. Gather business cards.

I have to be honest, as far as rewards go, writing for me *is* the reward. If I don't write, I find myself stuck in depression I can't readily get out of. If I obtain my daily writing goal, I find satisfaction in every other aspect in my life. I love writing. It makes me happy. I can't think of a better reward than that.

So reward yourself and write. You totally deserve it.