Speed Bumps

A popular post from April 2008

by Annette Lyon

There are moments when a writer feels blocked. No words come. The story stalls. You're staring at a brick wall. Every writer needs their own bag of tricks for overcoming Writer's Block. (One of the best: a deadline.)

Another writerly "condition" is similar to Writer's Block, but it differs in a significant way. We'll call it Writer's Speed Bump.

Writer's Speed Bump slows you down. It can make the words harder to come, but you can still write. This can take place during drafting or during revisions.

The trick, however, is that unlike with Writer's Block, sometimes you really do need to pay attention to the speed bump and back off. In my experience, the "bump" is a moment where you could keep going, but something doesn't feel right. However, you don't know what's wrong or how to fix it.

Worse, if you keep plowing forward, you may just run the story off into a ditch that will require a backhoe to get you out of.

I've learned to trust the feeling that I've just hit a bump. Over the last several days as I worked on a rewrite of my latest novel, I hit many such moments. While I was tempted to drive right over them (I was on deadline, after all), I knew I'd better stop and take a break.

Walking away from the computer at those points was the best thing I could have done. I'd go do something else for a while and let my mind drift and wander to the story. I wouldn't sit down and concentrate on what the problem was. Sometimes I'd pick my husband's brain for ideas. Other times I'd let the issue percolate and simmer.

Stories are like shy animals; you try to grab them, and they'll elude you. You have to wait for them to come to you. Hold out your hand as an invitation, call to them sweetly, and don't make any sudden movements.

Without fail, each time I left the computer and thought a bit about the story while doing something else (nothing exciting--maybe emptying the dishwasher or sweeping the kitchen), I'd have an "aha" moment and know where to pick things up next time I sat down. I ended up taking the story in directions I hadn't anticipated--directions that never would have occurred to me if I hadn't paid attention to the "bump."

The resulting manuscript is a tighter, more focused story that works far better than the original version.

A caveat: Part of the writer brain is hesitant and fearful. Don't interpret the messages from that area as Speed Bumps, or you'll walk away from the keyboard with your fears wrapped around you like a parka, and when you return, you won't have anything new to add to the table.

But next time you're sitting at your computer and you feel that gentle nudge that . . . hmm, something's not quite clicking into place . . . listen. Walk away. Think about it. The answers will come.

Excuses are Lame

A popular post from March 2008 

by Julie Wright
A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell. Being a good writer, she decided to do her research first and check out each place first.
As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.
"Oh my, this is awful," said the writer. "Let me see heaven now."
A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.
"Wait a minute," said the writer. "This is just as bad as hell!"
"Oh no, it's not," replied an angel. "Here, your work gets published."

Even in heaven the work is the same. There is no magical formula that makes a writer exempt from parking their backside in a chair and doing the work. There are a million and one excuses for not writing and they are all LAME.
The two biggest excuses for not writing are Time and Fear.
You've all heard me say it and I will say it again because I mean it: Time is Made not Found. Sometimes Time can be stolen, knocked out, and dragged off to do your bidding for a few minutes, but it is never found.

• Cut out a half hour of TV (get TIVO if you have to . . . in the spirit of stealing time back).
• Prepare several meals at the beginning of the week so you aren't doing last minute meal scrambling.
• Teach your children to do for themselves (trust me; it won't kill them)
• on your break at work, go out to your car and write instead of hanging out in the break room chatting with coworkers.
• delegate tasks

Fear
Fear is the mind killer. So says Frank Herbert in the book Dune (great read) I believe him. Fear strangles your mind and all the fabulous ability you have to create and become.
Some people might call this writers block. I honestly think writer’s block stems from fear. Deep down, we writers are an odd lot. We’re egotistical enough to believe we can write something and have someone actually PAY to read what we wrote and yet, there are few people as filled with self doubt as writers.
“I’m afraid nothing will come of what I write and therefore it will not be WORTH my time.”
Or,
“What I fail?”
or,
“What if what I write is so dumb, publishers, critics, and my own mother laugh at me?”
“What if what I write isn’t worth my time?”
Why wouldn't it be? Everything you write will have some merit, even if it's nothing more than practice. Do you think dancers twirl on their toes without a little practice? Besides if you have lots of practice fodder, it becomes good for salvage material to use in later works. I steal from my own work all the time.
I tell my kids all the time, "Courage is being afraid, but doing it anyway." This has enabled them to get on rides at Disneyland, go rock rappelling, and learn to snorkel in the ocean. I'm telling it to all of you in the hopes that it will enable you to take the chance on yourself and finish that manuscript so you can submit it to agents and editors and the people who can turn your dreams into reality.
Time and fear . . . not anymore
Excuses are like armpits. Everyone has two and they all stink. You are in charge of your life. Make your time and conquer your fear and do what you were meant to do.

Who do you listen to?

A popular post from February 2008

By Julie Wright

In tenth grade I had an English teacher who, for whatever reason, determined to hate me. This was the year I read To Kill a Mockingbird for the first time. This was the year I really knew in the marrow of my bones that I could be a writer. I was fifteen.

My teacher didn't have the same marrow-in-the-bones feeling about me. He took a short story idea I'd outlined for an assignment, and told me it would never work. "Very few authors pull off the passage of years in one book--let alone a short story. You can't do this." His red scribble on the top of my outline made my stomach sink into my shoes, and made my confidence slip into the well of despair.

But I was stubborn.

I determined he was wrong. After all . . . he'd never been published, what did he know? I wrote the story, submitted it to the school writing contest, and won first place. I even beat out the seniors.

Feeling proud of myself (and rich with the 100 bucks I had in my pocket from prize money), I took the story to my grandmother. She loved me. She would tell me how wonderful I was.

Except she didn't.

She really loved me, and loved me enough to be brutal. Hard love sucks rocks sometimes. She told me how to change the story, how to make it better, how to make it work.

She told me not to give the story back to her to read until I fixed it.

I fixed it. It took me 297 pages to make it right, but I fixed it. She'd already passed away. She never got to see it complete and right.

The lesson learned? Ignore the comments that shatter your belief in yourself and accept the comments that will improve you, even when they hurt to hear.

There will be voices shouting at you from all sides when you start writing. There will be the blind love voices who tell you you're brilliant, even if your story needs a major overhaul. There will be the hurtful voices who work to undermine your security in yourself. There will be the demon voices whispering the cacophonous words, "You can't do this."

Then there will be the hard love voices . . . the voices with your best interest in mind. The editorial voices that say, "You can do this. Don't give up, but make it right."

Where you end up as a writer depends on what voice you choose to listen to.

Who are you listening to?

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!)

Darkest Before the Dawn?

A popular post from February 2010

A friend of mine, J. Scott Savage, is doing a class on writing at a conference. I'm not exactly sure what his class will contain, but knowing him, the class will be twenty shades of amazing. I have an inkling of what he might say at this class because he posed a question to our online writer's group. The question was, "Could any of you who found success at the brink of giving up on writing e-mail me personally with your story or respond to the list?"

Finding success on the brink of giving up . . .

I know a lot of authors who've found success at nearly the same moment they decided to give up. Because at the same time they've given up, they also decided to give it one last push, to take one last step, to try one more time.

It's a strange place to be when you know you write well, you know you have talent, you've workshopped your manuscript and edited the thing until you could almost see your reflection in its polished shine, you know your story is sound, and yet the rejection letters keep rolling in. It's almost enough to make a writer more crazy than writers are prone to be naturally. It's almost enough to make us give up.

Madeleine L’Engle decided she was done writing. She had a couple of books published and then went nearly a decade of rejection after rejection. Throughout her thirties, no one seemed to want to publish what she wrote. She covered her typewriter and walked away in a huge show of renunciation. She wrung her hands and paced in circles and cried over her lost career. As she paced and cried, she realized that she already had a plot forming of a woman on the brink of giving up, but the story arc would be that the woman DIDN’T give up and finally succeeded. She realized that even the act of quitting brought plots and characters to her. She realized this wasn’t something she could just walk away from. She uncovered her typewriter, and went back to work. A couple of years later, she won the Newbery for A Wrinkle In Time.

Jessica Day George had many rejections. She had been to countless conferences and writing retreats and editor meetings in her attempts to break into a seemingly impossible market. The last conference she attended before getting a contract, she’d decided she’d had it. She told her husband that she was done—no more. He told her she had to finish the conference she was at because they’d already paid for it. The next day at the conference, she was at a critique group. Someone whispered over to her that they liked hers best and would she be interested in attending a by-invitation-only editor retreat. At that retreat, Jessica’s editor offered her a contract. Jessica had said that she was done and she’d meant it. She felt finished competing in a market she *knew* she was good enough to be part of, but that rejected her at every turn. If she hadn’t gone back to that conference, she wouldn’t have been invited to the editor’s retreat. If she hadn’t been at that retreat, she would have never been offered the contract that gave the rest of the world Jessica Day George. Jessica's newest book, Princess of Glass, comes out in May and is available for pre-order on Amazon.

For myself, it does seem that every time I think I’m done, something happens—even if it’s a little something. I think I’m done—I can’t go further in this maddening career choice, and I get a request for a partial manuscript. I think I’m done and I get a request for a full. I think I’m done and an agent says she’d like me to sign a contract. I think I’m done and my local publisher says they want another book. I think I’m done and SOMETHING happens to keep me in the game. Something happens that makes it impossible for me to walk away. And I finally realized that, like Madeleine, the stories won’t leave me alone just because I walk away from the computer. They’ll still be there, waiting for me to write them.

And *what if* the day you decide to quit, what if THAT day is like Jessica’s day—where there is only one more step to take to make it to the finish line?

You know you're good enough to compete, you've worked your manuscript, you've taken the pains and efforts to really learn how to write, you know you're good enough to play in the big sandbox called the national market. You just have to take one more step.

Well? What are you waiting for?

If anyone else has darkest before the dawn stories, feel free to leave them in the comments. We'd love to hear them.

The Fear

A popular post from February 2011

By Josi S. Kilpack

I had the chance to talk with a Humanities class at Utah State University on Thursday about being a writer. After the class, a handful of students came up to ask me some questions. We talked for about half an hour about their own personal journeys with writing, much of what we talked about was fear.

I'm afraid to let anyone read it.
I'm afraid that I'm not writing fast enough.
I'm afraid I'm wasting my time.
I'm afraid of being rejected.
I'm afraid of not knowing my ending when I start.

I did what I could to help alleviate the fears that each of these budding writers had and encourage them to move forward. On the way home I felt almost silly. I talked a good talk and I do hope I inspired them to work on what's holding them back, but I worry that I talked as though I have no more fears. I mean, I'm Published! I've arrived! I reached that goal! What do I have to be afraid of?

I'm afraid my current book is garbage.
I'm scared to death of Goodreads reviews.
I'm afraid all the stories are starting to sound like each other.
I'm afraid that my children will grow up to resent what my writing took from them.
I'm afraid my publisher will have a month of revisions for me.
I'm afraid my sales will go down.
I'm afraid that my lifestyle is adjusting to my current royalties and it won't last.
I'm afraid of the newer, younger, hipper writers doing such great stuff.
I'm terrified of ever having to find an agent.
I'm afraid of my publisher deciding they hate working with me.

I'm afraid that my writing isn't as good as it could be.
I'm afraid that I'm writing too fast.
I'm afraid that my current scene will end up being cut, wasting the hours I've spent on it.
I'm afraid of coming across as arrogant.
I'm afraid of writing blog posts that don't sound as good as everyone elses.
I'm afraid that one day I'll realize I hate writing.
I'm afraid that one day I'll run out of stories completely.
I'm afraid that my house will never be clean again.
I'm afraid that one day I won't be HERE and I'll miss it.
I'm afraid I'll never get THERE and I'll feel like a failure.
I'm scared that I'm at page 239 and don't know the ending.
I'm worried about finishing by my deadline.
I'm scared to ask my beta-readers to read another book.
I'm afraid that I haven't taken advantage of every opportunity out there.
I'm afraid my fears are holding me back.
I'm afraid of taking on anything new.
I'm afraid of not using my abilities in every way I can.

I know that fear is part of life, that overcoming our fears makes us stronger. But it doesn't feel that way when you're in it, when the fear is pressing down on you and you can't imagine opening the door to see what's standing behind it. I am afraid. Of many things. And yet I keep writing. Sometimes I wonder why. Sometimes I know the answer. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I'm so tired of it, and sometimes I feel like I'd shrivel up and die without it.

So why do I do it? Why do those students do it? Why do you do it? I think each of us are driven by different things, but I believe all those things tie back to something divine--some way in which our writing is meant to not only bless the lives of other people, but bless our lives as well. And I don't think that blessing for ourselves will be a published book on the shelf of a library. At least, not the biggest blessing. I believe that the blessing is in the hunt, the journey, the digging down within ourselves as we seek for that buried treasure. I think we'll find other things along the way--discipline, goal setting, learning, re-learning, friendships, teaching, lifting others, and lifting ourselves. I believe as we drop our chin and push through the storms of our own self-doubt, we will become stronger people, not just stronger writers. But I also believe that the fear will never entirely leave us. There will always be something to be afraid of--always. And sometimes we'll drown in it, even though we tell ourselves we're stronger than that. And sometimes we'll thrash about and swim for shore and make it out of the quagmire enough to see the distance we've covered.

Anytime we commit to pursue something akin to creation, something that will stand in our way. Because creating is divine, there will always be those influences determined to stop us, to leave us cowering in the corner, to have us giving in to the belief that there is just no way we can do it. I'm not going to tell you to embrace the fear, or stab it through the heart. You can't kill it. You can't ignore it entirely. The best you can do is move forward anyway, accepting that while you write your stories you are living your own. And your story will be fraught with difficulty and triumph, whimpering and song, success and failure. Accept it, and keep going, and be sure to take the time every now and again to look over your shoulder at the battle fields you've already passed through, count the enemy you have slain and then look into the eyes of the next one. Bit by bit, day by day, one sentence at a time. The fears you face now CAN stop you if you so choose, but understand that if you keep going and this fear eventually lies dead at your feet, another will rise up. Do not look at your writing as a solitary goal, rather see it for what it is--a journey that does not end until you throw up your hands and decide the game is over. It's all up to you. Every bit of it. Allow yourself to get stronger by writing despite the fears; putting yourself out there despite all the reasons you don't want to.

Now I'm afraid I've gone on too long about this...

Happy Writing.

Reaching

A popular post from November 2011

By: Julie Wright

I took the kids to Disneyland a few weeks ago.  There is something absolutely right with a place that allows people to feel comfortable wearing mouse ears, princess costumes, and pirate hats--not only comfortable, but in style.

Something I'd never noticed before (and I've been to Disneyland a lot in my life) is how much reaching happens at the happiest place on Earth. There were bubble machines and tiny hands stretching out to touch the perfect orbs floating on the breeze. On Pirates of the Caribbean, there's a smoke screen with an image of Davy Jones reflected on it. Hands reached up as the little boat passed through the screen of fog, the mist slipping through fingertips.

It was the tribute to Captain EO 3D show where I realized a problem in society. The 3D image of a little creature floated in the air in front of me. I wanted to reach out, but the logic in me wouldn't allow me to do something so childish. Logic stated that the creature wasn't really there and therefore reaching was foolish. But I wanted to reach--wanted to see my hand in comparison to the picture, not because I thought I could touch the little creature, but because I wanted to simply SEE.

I smiled to myself when my youngest son did reach--doing the thing I could not allow myself to do. But then my teenaged daughter snatched at his hand and whispered, "Don't! You just look stupid. There's nothing there."

He quickly dropped his hand to the side and I could feel his shame in his own sense of wonder.

My heart broke. It broke because she is growing up and with that, she is putting aside wonder for the solidity found in grown-up logic. And it broke because he stopped reaching and I worried he might not reach again.

I wanted to be so many things when I grew up--a ballerina, an advertising agent, a writer, a photographer, an archaeologist like Indiana Jones, an actress . . . and so much more. And then came a time where I stopped reaching. I even put aside writing for a time while I chased solid things like steady paychecks and a 401K.

And then one day I realized I could reach and be solid--all at the same time. I simply gave myself the present of fifteen minutes a day. In fifteen minutes I could stretch out those reaching muscles and live in the realm of wonder.

Anytime the arts are pursued, there will be people to snatch away your hands and whisper that you're being foolish--there is nothing there.

But if you never reach, you prove them right.

If you give yourself the present of a little time each day, you will create the thing you're reaching towards. There is nothing there--not until you create it into existence.

That's what Walt Disney did. That's why there is a Disneyland out there, encouraging other people to do the same thing.

One of the Many

by Annette Lyon

Nearly fourteen years ago, I took a university creative writing class from Dr. T, a professor who was himself an award-winning novelist. I looked forward to sitting at his feet and learning from one of the greats.

On one of the very first days of class, however, he announced that the chances of any of us ever getting published was pretty small, and that too many aspiring writers are encouraged. That we really shouldn't be encouraging so many of them, because there's too many already.

Um, thanks? I sat there, stunned. This is what I signed up for? A teacher who didn't think there was a point in encouraging his students?

When my first book came out, I was tempted to send him a note that said, "neener-neener."

But now? I almost (not quite, but almost) agree with him.

It wouldn't surprise me at all if I turned out to be the only student in that class to get published. I had the fire; I wasn't about to be stopped. But did the rest of them have that same need? From what I saw, most of them saw writing as a fun little thing to do.

In the years since, I cannot count how many people have told me that they "want to write a book." But there's always an excuse: they don't have the time (and I magically do?), or they don't know how (and I magically did?) or whatever the excuse of the day might be.

The reality is that these kinds of aspiring writers probably shouldn't be encouraged, because they aren't serious about it. It's a waste of the mentor's time and a waste of the writer's time.

Frankly, Dr. T had a point: there isn't enough room in the publishing business for everyone who wants to be there. Competition is fierce, and unless you're willing to fight the good fight, you won't make it.

If a publishing contract landed the laps of these people, they'd love it. But here's the problem: they aren't willing to put in the blood, sweat, and tears that it almost always takes to reach that point.

So here's the question each of us must answer for ourselves: Does the flame of writing burn inside you? Do you have to write? Do you want to be published the way you "want" oxygen?

If yes, then stay on this path. Most people who embark on it eventually fall off it, while those who stay on eventually make it through.

It isn't easy. But the journey is worth it, if you're willing to pay the price.

In a sense, I think that's what Dr. T. meant.

(Oh, and I did send him a postcard announcing my first book. Just to let him know about it. Ya know, just 'cause.)

Subjectivity and Quality

by Annette Lyon

Generally speaking, if you hand over a really bad writing sample to a qualified reader (such as an editor or agent), they'll likely recognize it as trash.

Do the same with a mediocre piece of writing, and the result will be the same.

But what about works that range from pretty good to really great?

Says who?

There's a huge range where opinion and subjectivity step in. It's why agent after agent passed on Harry Potter before someone decided they loved it . . . and it did what no other series has ever done in history.

It's why some people hate Twilight while others are obsessed with the series.

It's why you can find rejection letters out there addressed to some of the best writers the world has ever created.

And it's why some people love Faulkner while others can't stand him.

Once a writer reaches a certain skill level, "quality" becomes a bit vague. Objectivity exists only to a point.

Remember that when submitting your work. I've followed agent blogs where they admit that a writer had the chops, but that the style or topic just wasn't their cup of tea, or they didn't think they personally could sell it.

Recently I've been involved with a published author awards program and the judging involved with it. It's been fascinating to hear different judges' opinions. By and large, certain books had a consensus (this one was really great, that one was really poor). But several titles garnered totally conflicting opinions.

In several cases, judges were stunned that certain titles weren't finalists, while another judge might have seriously disliked the same book.

Each and every judge was extremely qualified. Yet none of them had the exact same opinion, and sometimes they clashed on what was a quality book and what wasn't.

Of course you should constantly try to improve. After a rejection, analyzing your work critically to see if they're right can only help.

But at the same time, remember that sometimes a rejection simply means that you haven't found the right person to look at your work yet. Maybe it is fantastic, and you just need to get it into the hands of someone who "gets" and likes you and your style.

Here's one more evidence that writing can be extremely subjective: personally, I never did see why so many people like Faulkner. Ugh.

Keep Moving Forward

I wrote a post over at my own blog and then realized how pertinent it would be to writers everywhere, so decided to let the post do double duty on both blogspots.

My teenage daughter surprised me a few months ago. She went home from our store (where we rent dvd's too) with a few movies: Juno, Sidney White, and Meet The Robinsons.

I had nothing pressing to do and knew that Juno had some pretty grown up themes and figured I ought to watch it with her in case she had any questions. We ended up pulling an all day movie fest watching all three movies. I hadn't seen any of them and it was fun to hang out with her and watch movies until our eyes got sore. (loved Juno BTW. It's a little irreverent, but I loved it)

It surprised me to hear my teenager's favorite movie in the world was Meet the Robinsons. It further surprised me to see her eyes mist over at the end. I mean, the show was cute, endearing, and I truly enjoyed it, but until her declaration and verge-of-tears reaction over the film, I hadn't looked much deeper than the surface.

The story revolves around a very central theme: Keep Moving Forward.

Such a positive approach to life. In the movie our little boy-genius-orphan, Lewis, makes many mistakes, but he learns to keep moving forward--that those mistakes will build him into the man he was meant to be. Is the concept of growth and stumbling blocks oversimplified in this movie? Of course.

But such growth really isn't the kind of concept that bears complicating. The simplicity of the message to keep moving forward is part of what makes it efficient and beautiful.
I finished my first book and hid it away on the harddrive of an old 8088 because I was afraid to keep moving forward. My husband shoved me out of my comfort zone and into the dark and disturbing world of submitting manuscripts, because I simply refused to go out on my own. Did I make mistakes? Of course. I freely admit, I'm published by an unexplainable comedy of errors. Little twists and turns of fate. Every twist and turn, making me the person I am.

Had I not stumbled forward, I would have lived in that place called regret. Always wondering what I might have accomplished if I'd only picked myself up and dusted myself off when things didn't go the way I wanted. Always wondering, and in that wondering, consistently feeding off heaping portions of dissatisfaction.

Writers tend to get hung up on the rejections, the bad reviews and evil comments left by people who simply don't understand our "art." Miss Snark had an entire category called "quit obsessing!" Writers obsess. We obsess over every little thing.

And sometimes all that obsession leaves us wanting because we forget to remember the little twists and turns of fate that bring us joy.

The movie Meet the Robinsons ends with a song that spoke to my soul. Because even as we stumble through our lives, cry over our failed attempts at getting that agent, deal, contract, award--aren't there millions of tiny moments that bring joy as we journey through our lives and become the people we're meant to be?

"Little Wonders"
Let it go,
Let it roll right off your shoulder
Don't you know
The hardest part is over
Let it in,
Let your clarity define you
In the end
We will only just remember how it feels

Our lives are madeIn these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain

Let it slide,
Let your troubles fall behind you
Let it shine
Until you feel it all around you
And i don't mind
If it's me you need to turn to
We'll get by,
It's the heart that really matters in the end

Our lives are made
In these small hours
These little wonders,
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away,
But these small hours,
These small hours still remain

All of my regret
Will wash away some how
But i can not forget
The way i feel right now
In these small hours
These little wonders
These twists & turns of fate
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away but these small hours
These small hours, still remain,
Still remain

These little wonders
These twists & turns of fate
Time falls away
But these small hours
These little wonders
still remain
--Rob Thomas

The Foolish Writer

By Julie Wright

I know. My day to post is almost over. But it is still Tuesday and I've neglected several Tuesdays over the past month in my quest to complete a novel. I couldn't neglect yet one more.

One of my very dear friends from college confided in me he wanted to write a book. (good thing he doesn't read my blogs or he'd be irritated that I didn't keep his confidence--though none of you would know him anyway) And he's finally decided to get serious about it. He took a writing course in college, but let the fear of writing something stupid convince him to not write at all.

I can testify, I have written many a stupid thing (And to my discredit, I have stupid things published). But I can also say that within all that stupidity lies a nugget or two of brilliance. And because of all that stupidity, I've gotten pretty good at what I do.

Shannon Hale taught a class at a writer's conference once. She started it out by explaining she'd laminated all of her rejection letters end to end. Then she proceeded to roll the length of rejections out. The laminated papers rolled clear to the back of the room. She then said she had a pottery teacher who told her she would never be able to create a useful piece of pottery until she'd made her one thousand and first piece (or something like that . . .maybe it was a million . . . maybe it was a hundred . . . my memory isn't that good, but trust me, it was a bunch).

She likened her pottery to her writing. Until she'd written all the mistakes out, she would never be proficient.

Anton Chekov said,

". . . only he is an emancipated thinker who is not afraid to write foolish
things."

Had I always been afraid of writing foolish things, I would never have written at all. I still sometimes write foolishness. But I allow myself that. Without practice and learning, there can be no improvement.

I feel emancipated. I do not fear to be foolish. I fear not writing at all.

Emancipate yourselves and go write . . . write the foolish, the garish, the absurd, and the brilliant. Write it all. For what is humanity without the full spectrum of all things?

Sculpting to Perfection

By Julie Wright

A friend of mine, Matthew Buckley, posed a thought to a writing group we belong to.

When you carve something, you are basically taking away what doesn't need to be there. First you start with a block and you take things away until they are just right. At that point, if you take off more, you are damaging the product. If you keep working, eventually you just have a pile of sawdust or marble shavings.

So at what point do you stop tweaking your writing? Is it easy for all of you to think, "Yep, that's done. It's perfect. If I change it anymore, it will be a weaker book."

I am one of those authors who could "tweak until it's weak." I could, but I don't. I'd love to say it's because I'm brilliant enough to know when to say, "when," but really I think it is my lack of patience that is to blame. I want to see my book on a bookstore shelf NOW, never later.

So the fine line we walk is knowing when to stop tweaking and whittling away, and when to start putting it out for public consumption. For every person I daresay the answer is different. But for me, after several years of stupid manuscripts, I came up with a five reader rule. If my book hasn't been workshopped through five readers, then it isn't ready to hit the desk of someone with buying power. And I don't mean five readers who like you and are afraid of hurting your feelings. And typically, I don't recommend your mother ever being one of your five. Pick five readers who you trust to be straight shooters.

How many drafts should you write?

I write two initially, rework the manuscript several more times as reader reports come in and once more for the publisher. My attention span isn't long enough to do more than that. What's right for you? I could not say. Maybe more, maybe less.

But I know people who have been working on their masterpiece for years, tweaking, adding commas, changing modifiers, removing adverbs and dead words. I wonder if they are tweaking because they are perfectionists, or are they tweaking because they are afraid of submitting?

It is a fine line, because you must turn in your best work--you MUST. The competition is fierce. But you also must actually get to a point where you let go and TURN IT IN, because if you don't, you will forever be a dabbler and never really an author.

This thought of sculpting to perfection, of whittling away until you are truly done is subjective. Every writer needs the luxury of having his own way of doing things. The freedom to create offers limitless possibilities. But if you're worried your whittling your manuscript to a pile of sawdust, you might just be guilty of being afraid to move on. Only you know the answer to that. But in my household we have a saying, "Courage is being afraid, but doing it anyway."

Intellectual Property in the Air

Seven years ago, I shot straight up in bed. I had a fabulous idea for a book. It was going to be hilarious. I laughed just thinking about it, though tried to keep it quiet since the husband was sleeping next to me. I tiptoed out to my kitchen and penned the outline in the fever of maniacal giggling. I knew I had a bestseller flying from my pen to the paper. (this was back when I wrote all my novels in spiral notebooks and had no clue how to send an email.)

The entire book idea stemmed from a play on words from another bestseller. My book was going to be called How to Lose Friends and Alienate People. It was going to be a gag gift for all those positive thinking people that irritate us. It was going to be awesome.

That was seven years ago.

The book remains on my hard-drive--never submitted, though occasionally thought about.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the movies and saw a trailer for a movie that looked so lame, I determined I would never go see it. Guess what the title was.

Go ahead. Guess.

Yep: How to Lose Friends and Alienate People.

&%$%#@*$@!!!!!!!!! What are the chances????????????? (All those exclamation marks and questions marks are the representation of me stomping my feet and screaming while tearing out my hair.)

This comes two months after I read the backliner of Stephenie Meyer's The Host and realized the whole premise of her book is about two souls living in one body. Guess what.

Go ahead. Guess.

Yep. Two years ago, I wrote a book that has a bi-soul as one of the characters. The bi-soul is seriously awesome. It's schizophrenia at its finest. Though this character is a minor character, I don't want to edit her out. She's funny. She's interesting. Her history and the history of the planet she comes from intrigue me and fill me with joy that I wrote something so cool. I love my character. The book hasn't found a publisher yet, but I am not editing out my bi-soul.

I am never EVER going to read Stephenie's book (no offense Stephenie, but I wrote my bi-soul before you wrote yours). At least that way, no one can ever claim I copied.

Seriously. How is this possible? What are the chances? I really do believe that ideas are in the air like pollen riding the wind. They are waiting to be plucked and put to use. Why do I always pluck and then come late to the putting to use part? Argh!

The moral of this story is

• Tearing out your hair is painful. I don't suggest it to anyone.
• The cosmos feel it unfair for them to hand you a cool idea when you're going to hide it on your computer for all eternity.
• The cosmos have a wicked sense of humor and figure if you don't use your idea, someone else ought to get a crack at it.
• If you have an idea for something, get it written and SUBMITTED.

I'm serious. What's holding you back from submitting? I will be honest and raise my hand and be the first person to admit it was naked fear. Sometimes I get so afraid of the rejection time and time again that I hang onto my ideas with jealous fervor. But hanging too tight to your manuscripts is like trying to hang onto that slime stuff kids play with. The tighter the hold, the more slime eeks out between your fingers until you're holding nothing at all.

So do yourself a favor and submit your manuscripts. After all, you never know when someone is going to take your idea and make a lame movie out of it before you have a chance to be brilliant.

Blowing it up; How Not to End Your Story

By Josi S. Kilpack

Over the years I've done several elementary school visits where I talk to the kids about writing. During these visits I have the class help me write a story. I start with characters, since no matter the plot, every story is about somebody who grows through the course of the story. We then move onto plot, since every story is about something that happens to that somebody, then causing the growth that is so essential. Once we have those two main points in place, we add the antagonist, the person that makes things hard for our main character, which leads to conflicts; ways in which the antagonist gets in the way of our main character getting what they want. Seeing as how I'm doing this with eight year olds, our stories usually go like this:

Kyra enters a jump rope competition that she wins every year. The new girl in school, Sasha, won the competition in her old school every year. Sasha cuts Kyra's jump rope, Sasha is better than Kyra, Sasha spreads mean rumors about Kyra to the school hoping Kyra will skip the competition. Kyra, however has grown through these challenges and she shows up to the competition despite everything Sasha has done to thwart her.

At this point we face the climax--critical mass for the story. What happens next? The climax needs to be intense and important and a worthy challenge for Kyra to overcome.

This is where the bombs come in.

Why bombs? Because the fact is that any story can end with an explosion that simply makes everything disappear--albeit dramatically. Take Pride and Prejudice. Elizabeth doesn't need to admit she's in love with Mr. Darcy and has let her pride blind her for all this time. She doesn't need to suffer the embarrassment of her sister's marriage--everyone in the book can just blow up due to some cosmic thing that won't be figured out for another hundred years. Harry Potter--same thing. He doesn't have to fight Voldemort, he doesn't have to save the world from evil, they can all just explode via a spell gone horribly wrong. And Kyra doesn't have to face her nemesis at the jump rope competition, the boiler room can simply explode beneath the gym floor, obliterating all sign of character, plot, and conflict. Over. Done. The End.

Of course, none of us would read books if they all ended this way, but the point is they CAN end this way. It provides climax and conclusion in one felled swoop. However, it's rarely the right way to do it. The reason I use this example at my school visit is first, because all the boys that stopped paying attention when we mentioned jump rope, are now paying attention again, and second, because all writer's need the challenge to come up with something better--something satisfying, something fair, something more creative than explosives that fits their story, shows the character growth and allows the reader to put down the book without screaming obscenities at it.

While climax-conclusion is a very basic lesson in writing, as writers we too face dark days of our own that have nothing to do with elements of fiction. We are the main character in our story, the plot is laid out behind us more often than before us and we look back and marvel at how long it's taken to get here and the conflicts we've overcome.

And then we face a dark day. A day we thought was behind us, a day we didn't expect.

Your dark day might be a rejection, it might be a family member's snide remark about us choosing our writing over our children, it might be a negative review, a royalty check we expected to receive but didn't get because we had too many returns, it might be the story we just can't figure out an ending too. Wherever we are in our writing, there are dark days ahead and it's these days when we start thinking of the ultimate climactic conclusion to our writing days--a figurative explosion which is actually the opposite, an implosion of all we've worked for; where we throw our hands in the air and give up. This is especially tempting when the dark days have compiled. It's not just a rejection, it's the FIFTEENTH rejection. It's not just a snide comment, it's the NEXT snide comment after years of them. It's the SECOND bad review this week, and it was a royalty check we really needed because our book expense account is in the red.

It's hard to see the silver lining when the clouds get this thick and we find ourselves wondering what else we could do with our time, our talents, our passions; certainly we could redirect them to something else--something that would surely be more enjoyable than this.

This is the point that 80% of would-be-published-authors implode. They've had too many dark days and they can't see their way through anymore. They don't WANT this in their life anymore. And this isn't necessarily the wrong choice--for them. The question you have to ask yourself when you're the one facing the darkness, is it the right choice for you?

I will submit that there is not a single writer anywhere that does not consider the implosion on numerous occasions. I would submit that most published authors have faced weeks worth of bad weather, hoping and praying for sunshine without knowing if they'll see it again. I would submit that the fact you are facing dark days is similar to the conflicts you give to your characters. Will you press forward and be stronger for it in the end? Will you learn something here that will make the future easier to handle? Will you look for the joy of your writing even if it means digging in the dirt until your fingers bleed?

Each time I face a new dark day I have to go through this all over again--is it worth it? Do I want it? Can I keep going? So far, I can, but I know many people that are better writers than I am that finally determined they couldn't. I would like to offer an flashlight to anyone that feels suffocated by the darkness. If you've ever read by flashlight you know that it only illuminates a few words at a time, and you have to keep moving it as you go. If it all feels too big, if you're overwhelmed, and undernourished and questioning your efforts, just look at a few words at a time, and keep moving. Better days are ahead, imploding is not the only solution, and if writing is truly a part of who you are you won't be whole without it.

No matter the story, it's about somebody who grows through the course of the story. Be the hero in your own book and conquer.

Shelving and Completing

Hiding in drawers are the pages of several never completed manuscripts by yours truly. I've opened those drawers, peeked at the unfinished writings, and sighed as I closed the drawers up again. They have the look of a road ending at a chasm that spirals down into the darkest abyss of authorial hell.

Shelved projects aren't a bad thing. I imagine most authors have one or two (or many)lingering in their own hiding places. As an author grows in their craft, some of those lifeless manuscripts can be resurrected into something great. But if they never do, it's okay to have a few unfinished manuscripts.

Contrary to the above statement, I am always encouraging new writers to persevere with what they've got. Just FINISH it! My advice to writers is for them to just get it done.

Where is the balance between just getting it done and knowing when to shelve?

For me, it's when I'm bored. I'm bored with the characters, the plot, the whole thing. When the book holds no interest for me as the author, I feel safe to assume it will become a new prescription for curing insomnia if I let it out into the public. That is when I print it out, and put it away where no one will find it.

And yet, I still think it's important to finish one book. You cannot make a career of shelving. You have to finish one simply to prove to yourself that you CAN. It's an amazing moment when a writer reaches "the end" of their first book. It's a sacred rite of passage from writer to author. So I don't recommend shelving until you've actually proven you can carry a book to completion.

I maintain that nothing we write is ever wasted. Every verse of terrible poetry and line of absurd dialogue carries us closer to the writers we will someday be. All of my hidden uncompleted work served as my education process. I can look in those drawers and say, "This is where I found my voice, my rhythm, myself."

This post today is because I have a friend with countless uncompleted manuscripts hiding in his secret places. He's never finished a book. He's been at it for eighteen years--long enough to raise a child to adulthood. And I want to scream at him, "Just get it done!!!!!!" (and yes, with that many exclamation points). In fact, I did tell him he needed to stop dabbling and jump in. His response was to remind me that I told him it's okay to shelve products when you know they aren't going anywhere. Oh the agony of being quoted out of context.

It's okay to know when a book isn't going anywhere and it's time to walk away. But if you're finding yourself always walking away, you'll miss the magical moment of completion, that moment when you step from the world of merely writing to the world of actually authoring.

Be picky about what you're writing later. There's lots of time for rewrites. But for now, just get it done!

Because you deserve it!

I met a writer the other day who has yet to complete a novel. He has several beginnings and even a couple of endings (though the endings don't go to his already written beginnings). He asked me for advice.

It seems to me his problem is not one of ability. He writes all the time. I believe his issue lies more with motivation and very likely, a dash of fear.

At a recent conference I learned a little about goal setting. I already do most of what the instructor told us we needed to do in order to have successful careers, but my goals are thoughts in the back of my head, never written down . . . not really.

Never before had anyone explained to me the fine art of good organization and the importance of goal setting with rewards.

It isn't enough for the would-be-writer to say, "I'm going to write a book." Because at the end of that sentence remains words left unsaid. The sentence really is this, "I'm going to write a book SOMEDAY."

Someday always seems so distant. We always have time to worry about things SOMEDAY. But what happens if your someday doesn't come because you never sat down and decided on a concrete goal?

Kay Lockner suggested that first off you need to define a career goal such as: I want to be a best selling author. Best selling is a pretty subjective goal so she suggests you narrow it down into something tangible. Give you concept of "best-selling" a number. In some markets 2000 books is considered best-selling. So you need to determine what best selling means to you.

Next she suggests you consider what this goal will do to your life. Will it offer you financial security? Will it offer you truckloads of fan mail? Will it offer you time to spend with your family? Will it offer you the chance to live a career you love? When you figure out how you want this to impact your life. Write that down along with your goal.

Next you need to do some "snap" planning that will push you along the road to your ultimate goal. Along with the goal you need a target date for completion. If your goal is to finish a novel, then you need a date by which you must complete the novel. Then you need to have three milestone goals so that you can check your progress along the way.

The milestone goals are dates. For example my goal is to complete "the Nightmare Givers" by December 31st. My first milestone is the full introduction of all main characters by October 31st (which I've met. My second milestone is that I must come to the middle of the story where all issues are introduced and all obstacles in the way by November 31st. By December 31st, all obstacles must be removed and they live happily ever after (or happily until the sequel).
You need to set three smaller goals in order to achieve the larger one. She breaks it up into "goal-genre" if you will.

• Production goal--this is where you create the product. This is the "how many words am I going to write a day" goal.
• Marketing goal--this is where you plan on how you're going to get the manuscript read by others.
• Wildcard goal--this can be anything (hence the name). You can have a goal to establish an internet presence or read a few books on the craft of writing.

What I really really love about this is you get to reward yourself when you achieve small goals and reward yourself even more when you achieve the big ones.

So if you meet your target date for getting to chapter ten, you get a movie night, or a manicure, or a new miter saw. You cannot reward yourself with stuff you're going to do anyway. If you get a manicure every week, then what point is there in using that for your motivation?

For me, a simple reward isn't good enough. I take away things I love, and only return them to myself when I achieve my goals. For instance I love to read. I love love love to read. I love to read in a way that could be considered an unhealthy addiction. So, in order to get my writing done, I buy new books that I desperately want to read, then set those books on my shelf at my writing desk so I have to stare at them, knowing I cannot have them until I achieve my goal.

Whatever reward you pick for yourself, make sure it's one that is properly motivating as well as properly accessible. Don't make a Caribbean cruise your reward if you know there isn't a snowball's chance in the hot place you can afford it. But do make sure it's something that will put a fire in your belly. Because whatever your reward for reaching your goal . . . you totally deserve it!

Facing Your Audience

by LuAnn Staheli

Sometime in junior high, I decided to be a writer. I wrote poetry and short stories, but I looked forward to the day when I would grow up and write novels. It took me several years to get there. Only eleven years ago I completed my first, the story of my mother’s childhood. My second novel was born three years later from a random idea. It was followed two years ago by a book based on my own teenage years, then last year I completed a historical set in the time of the Aztecs that I had been working on for nearly twelve years.

So, four complete novels reside on my computer hard drive. All have been through my critique group, revised, and prepared for publication. And that’s where the problem lies. Despite the fact that I’ve queried several editors and agents, I’ve not yet sold one of these manuscripts. Like many want-to-be authors, I could just give up and set my dreams aside, but after all these years and the amount of work I’ve already put into them, I don’t want to.

I decided to face my audience. All four of my books are meant to be read by teenagers, and every day I see over one-hundred teens in my Honors English classrooms. Copies in hand, I approached several of my best editors. “Would you be willing to read and critique this for me?” The response has been overwhelmingly positive. At last, the chance for the student to tell the teacher what they need to fix.

With delicious glee, the students were off, taking their task seriously. I’ll admit, I was nervous. Sending my babies off to faceless readers was one thing, but knowing I would see my new editors face-to-face every day for the rest of the school year was frightening. “What if they don’t like it? What if they think I’m a terrible writer? Will I be able to fix anything they don’t understand?”

As manuscripts started to come back to me, I discovered that sending them home with kids was the best thing I could do. The responses have been positive; the comments specific and helpful. As I’ve started revision based on my target reader’s input, I feel my manuscripts will be better than ever.

Writers need feedback to improve their work, and no response is as constructive as that from a real audience. Sure, agents and editors may hone my work, but the kids—they are the ones who will really matter when the books finally get published.

Who's Your Threshold Guardian?

by Annette Lyon

In a recent post I discussed common archetypes for characters and what their roles are in a story.

One of them is the Threshold Guardian. Often the TG is an actual person (the troll on the bridge who refuses to let you pass), but other times it's an event (Cinderella's dress is ripped to shreds, so she can't go to the ball).

Generally speaking, the Threshold Guardian isn't the main antagonist to your hero, although the TG might be one of the antagonist's underlings. But the big battle to defeat that person will come later.

What the Threshold Guardian does is throw up a brick wall to your character's progress, preventing your hero from making a big step forward in the story--a crucial step, something absolutely needed for the hero's growth and, possibly, survival.

At it's simplest, the meeting with the TG is a test. The hero's job is to prove himself or herself worthy of being a the hero of the story. It's also to prove just how badly the hero wants the goal at the end. (How much does Dorothy really want to get home?)

Your hero will encounter more than one Threshold Guardian, and always at pivotal moments, when two possiblilities are faced: turning back or making a big leap forward when the Threshold Guardian is overcome.

Lately as I've been contemplating this particular archetype, similarities to real-life situations have surfaced in my mind.

All too often we get a rejection on a manuscript or run into some other barrier in our writing or elsewhere in life and feel as if we have failed, that we've reached a dead end, that the universe doesn't want us to progress.

What if instead we seized the problem and recognized that these blocks are tests? What if we moved forward to prove ourselves, to show how badly we want to reach the goal at the end--so we know for ourselves just how much we want it and deserve it?

These are moments where the future hangs in the balance, and the direction the scales will tip is based entirely on what your next step will be.

Will you throw in the towel, deciding that this test is actually the end of the road? Or will you analyze your manuscript again to figure out why it wasn't acceptance-worthy? Will you rewrite and submit again? Will you quit? Will you whine and complain?

We are the heros of our own stories. When a problem rears its ugly head, recognize it as a Theshold Guardian and what that means: It's an obstacle that will give you the chance to grow, to learn, and to prove yourself.

Most of all, it's a temporary obstacle. And it's worth getting around, defeating, or making allies with so you can continue your progress, eventually reaching the end of the yellow brick road so you can click your ruby slippers.

I Beg to Differ

by Heather Moore

This week I’m reading The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes by Jack M. Bickham. I love his advice, and I love the frank way he delivers it. But today, I read the chapter called “Don’t Take It to the Club Meeting,” and ever since it’s been bothering me.

Bickham essentially warns fledging writers to stay away from writing clubs where one reads his/her work aloud, then listens to advice by the other attendees. Bickham says not to waste your time at a club meeting because “they won’t be honest; they usually don’t know what they’re doing anyway.”

I won’t discount that in some clubs, or in some club attendees, this may be the case. But I’ve also met many unpublished writers who have never let anyone read their work. Not even their mother (although that may be a good thing).

For the writer who is too timid to let their friends or family read their work, a non-personal writing club may be the answer—until relationships with professional writers can be established or funds can be spent on professional editing.

Bickham also advises working with a professional writer coach. This can be very costly, and unless you have a great friendship with another author, it will be difficult to get professional feedback on what you’ve written without paying for it. (Another reason our Monday Mania blog is so valuable.)

When I go to my critique group, I sit around a table with six or seven other people—all from different backgrounds, all in various stages of publishing. I walk away from each session with a better understanding of the direction I need to take in my writing. One person’s strength is description, another’s conflict, a third, motivation. This adds up to a rather complete edit, and by the time I go through the critique process with my group, I feel I’ve received the best of the best.

If my critique group hadn’t taken a chance on me, I probably wouldn’t be where I am today. Out of the seven original members, only four were published. Now all of us are--multiple times over.

In the same chapter, Bickham also discredits writing contests that offer judge’s feedback. “The comments and advice from judges can vary as widely—and wildly—as the comments from the club meeting floor after a reading.” Of course, this is true, and I’ve seen it myself. But until I started submitting short stories to local writing contests, I had no idea if my writing even matched up to anyone else’s. The judge’s feedback was invaluable to me at the time. Sure, it’s subjective. Just as any agent or editor will be when you’re submitting. Just as a professional writing coach or editor is subjective.

But how are you to start at the beginning if there is no beginning place to start? I believe that the average fiction writer didn’t major in English Literature in college, he didn’t have a fantastic mentor, and he may not have access to professional writers now. He has to start from scratch.

I started from scratch. I googled writers groups, found the League of Utah Writers, and started attending their meetings. I signed up for a couple of night classes on publishing and creative writing. I entered a few local writing contests. Eventually I found a critique group, I attended writer’s conferences, entered more contests, read books on writing . . . I learned the craft from the ground up.

Attending a writers club may not be for everyone, but I believe it will benefit you. If you don't grow from it, find another one. And when it ceases helping you, move on. Entering writing contests may not impress a big-time editor or agent, but it will give you an idea if your writing stacks up . . . if your plot is interesting . . . if you are developing those characters . . . if you are growing your craft.

And that's the most important thing you can do, published or not, is find avenues to improve your writing.

Pushing the Envelope

by Lu Ann Staheli

So many want-to-be writers have the same roadblock stopping them from success—they don’t send enough submissions.

For some, the fear of rejection stops them from actually sending their work out to editors. For others, they are so busy worrying about the arbitrary rules set down by publishers—no multiple submissions, agented submissions only, wait 6-10 months for a response, etc.—that they either wait months at a time for a rejection that is sure to come or they fail to send their submission to a house or publication that might be waiting for just what they have written.

All too often, today’s publishers do not even respond to submissions, SASE or not. The author who follows the rules might wait for a long time, never having the nerve to send the same submission to another house, always in hopes that the one place they’ve sent it will come through in the very end. I hate to break your bubble, but that scenario isn’t likely to happen.

So, if you want to increase your chances of publication, you have to break the cycle of follow-the-rules, then sit and wait. Here are a few tips to help you get around those roadblocks and into the fast lane toward publication, even if it means more rejection.

First, let me assure you, a fast rejection is not a bad thing. The quicker you find out who doesn’t want your manuscript, the better chance you have to find the right house or publication for your work. A quick rejection will help you cull the list of potential markets for all of your work, saving you the trouble of submitting again and again to an editor or house who isn’t a good match for your style.

Next, remember that multiple queries and multiple submissions are two separate things. There is absolutely no reason why you can’t send several queries out for a single project at the same time. The likelihood of more than one publisher wanting to grab it up is slim, and even if they did, what a great place to find yourself. That is how bidding wars that drive up an author’s advance and the final contract percentage happen with books. I know one writer who had two houses buy the same non-fiction book from the same query. The author took the same information and wrote one book from a humorous slant while the second was for the more serious sportsman. Two advance checks and royalties for the same work, all because he sent multiple queries for a project he believed in.

As for those editors who say they only accept submissions from an agent, this may not be entirely true. Some editors will accept queries from anyone, agent or not. Others will accept queries and submissions from people they have met (interpret this to include spoken-in-front-of) at a writer’s workshop or conference. If you’ve attended a conference, or if you belong to SCBWI, it doesn’t hurt to add a label on the outside of your submission envelope stating this.

Even a rejection of a particular manuscript or idea does not mean the editor has rejected you altogether. Pay attention to any notes or comments you might receive that encourages you to submit something else to the same editor. I use a self-addressed postcard with check-off options in my submissions. Many times editors will choose the option that states: “Although this manuscript does not meet my current needs, please feel free to query me on another project.” I always take advantage of that invitation, and so should you.

Editors can’t buy your work if they don’t know you’re out there, so, if you’re sitting around waiting for that response from a single editor, wait no more. Get busy and send your query out to additional places who buy the same kind of pieces. Every time a rejection comes back, send the query out to another house. Keep track of where and when you are sending, then be ready to smile when the request for a completed manuscript a contract offer comes through.