writing – Page 6 – Tipsy Typer

The Writing Space (my little hobbit hole)

I’ve stared in envious jealousy when my favorite authors have posted pictures of their offices, these beautiful and spacious writing areas that are conducive to their own form of brilliance, usually complete with their very own wood-burning fireplace. And then I look at mine and wonder if it will ever be anything more than what it is. My writing space is my sanctuary, it is the place where I find my genuine self. My seat is worn, my desk is typically messy, and my book shelf has seen better days. But it is mine. It is the home of my favorite creations, the worlds that I bring to life on the page.

There is nothing more important to the creative process than finding a space that will nurture it. I spent many years (okay- virtually all of my life) without one, I worked wherever I happened to have space- usually on my bed with my back propped up against the wall- and full disclosure, I am actually doing that right now because there is a slight possibility that my desk is covered in pears that I got from work, and I’m too lazy tonight to find a reasonable place to store them while they ripen. The kitchen is out of the question, they will be eaten before I even get a taste. So, naturally, I am hoarding them on my desk and writing in my bed.

The writing space isn’t necessarily about the physical set-up: you don’t need a large oak desk and a fancy computer to get those creative juices flowing, you don’t need modern art to feel that rush of words slipping from your finger tips. No, the writing space is more about the way you feel when you are in it. It’s about surrounding yourself with what inspires you, the things that make you think, that remind you what you are working for. It could be something as simple as bringing your favorite Iron Man notebook out to the big oak tree at your nearest park- that could be the place where all of your fictional beings are born. Or perhaps you feel that vibe at your local coffee shop with a caramel macchiato. There is no right or wrong answer to the question of the perfect work space. And for that matter, it doesn’t even have to be the same space each time. Just because it is working for you one day, doesn’t mean it will be the ideal spot for you tomorrow. I rove around a lot when I work. During the summer I love sitting out at the picnic table on the back patio, throwing my dog’s favorite toy and listening to the rustling leaves while I type away. Other days I camp out on the couch with a fluffy blanket and a sweatshirt. You have to be in tune with yourself to know where you will be most likely to stay focused and inspired. It is not an easy task.

So today, I’m going to take you on a virtual tour of my own little area- and I will apologize now, the picture is just a little bit older, simply because you are probably not interested in seeing the mountain of pears, and I know I am not interested in cleaning it up. And there might be a coffee mug. And a water bottle. And maybe a bowl of Hershey kisses. But shh, you don’t have to know that. Here it is, my little comfort zone- it’s changed a little bit since this picture was taken, but not enough to make a big deal out of it.

I am going to preface this by saying that I live in small quarters, trust me, there is not a Pinterest trick on saving space that I have not read or tried at least once, and there is not a single organizational tool that I have not bought and (more often than not) promptly sent off to Goodwill. I have learned to be very creative with what I have. So my writing space is nothing lavish or fancy, it is not going to be getting me on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens, and I sure wont be featured on HGTV anytime soon. But I love it, and that’s all that matters in the end.

My fiancé and I both have our own little desks in the ‘office’- which also happens to double as our main living space. This usually doesn’t cause a ton of problems, although there are the occasional noise complaints from one to the other- luckily, that is why headphones were invented.

My desk is nothing fancy- it’s one we bought at Ikea a few months ago when we finally made the space for it. I was actually quite proud because I managed to put it together all on my own without any male assistance- and to top it off, they were Ikea directions with no words and very confusing pictures. I was feeling like one hell of an independent woman that night, She-Ra Warrior Princess in the flesh. There was only one board I put on backwards, but I caught it before irreparable harm could be done. That same night it was christened ‘Katie’s desk de independence (no boys required).’ When I bought it I fell in love with the fact that it had a built in whiteboard, although I have since learned that it’s not the best quality and the markers wont erase without special cleaners, so instead I cover it in sticky notes.

As I said, it is a small space. It’s pressed up against a bookshelf on one side, which holds our tv, and on the other is the wall that I like to stick current projects materials to. Above it are some wall shelves that hold a lot of my books- including all of my writing focused ones. It also carries my cherished binders, my ‘story bibles’ if you will- all of my prepping and plotting work that I’ve done for each of my projects (one of which you can see on the desk in the picture). I have sticky notes taped everywhere with my favotire inspirational quotes, a few stickers I got from a Nano donation a year or so ago, and odds and ends I got as gifts or on vacation. It’s an odd assortment of things I have surrounded myself with, but everything on it is no-shame, 100% me. The Chinese fortune sticks on the far left (behind the water bottle as shown), my favorite black elephant decoration is smiling right at me from his perch, there’s a small hour glass that holds a piece of coal taken from the Titanic, my Walking Dead and Disney figurines, there’s an empty flask my sister got me that looks like a Nintendo game, a little gold Buddha and some pictures from important moments in my life (there are a couple more now than there were when this was taken). My prized possession though would be the little orange book with the white tabby on the cover- written by the only person in my family I have ever known to be published.

It’s not a popular book by any means, but I did manage to find a few copies on Amazon and Ebay. It holds a place of prominence, a reminder of what I can do if I only try hard enough. It’s a children’s book called ‘Tuffy’s Travels,’ written by my mother’s favorite aunt, Marie Persson. Annie Ree- that’s what they used to call her. She passed away from cancer before I was born, I never met her. But she inspires me every day. I always keep her book where I can see it as a reminder that it’s not impossible, I can make it if I only work hard and keep trying to improve my craft. Getting published has always felt like such a distance dream that belonged in the realm of ‘someday.’ This book reminds me that ‘someday’ gets a little bit closer every single time I start stringing those words together.

I can only hope that someday I will be able to look back at my humble beginnings- all of those nights spent on my bed or couch with my laptop propped on my knees. My time in this little desk that I made all my own, crammed into a tiny room that we’ve have to refinaggle to fit into. Clicking and clacking away at the dream that has never left my soul from the moment I was able to tell my tall tales as a child.

The writing space is only important as long as it helps you be creative. Some people thrive in clutter, others practically need a ruler to line up their pencils. I am somewhere in between. It’s not always ideal, but it is mine. This is what I have, and I am so proud of it. Although if you have ever taken a peek at the office of James Rollins (one of my all-time favorite authors)- holy cow, I can ony dream of reaching that level someday. Go ahead, peek through his office window like a creeper and see the magic inside- I don’t think he’ll mind, this image came courtesy of his Twitter feed, after all. (twitter.com/jamesrollins/media)- and while you’re at it, if you are looking for a new series to read, give the Sigma series a try, you wont regret it. Until then, the dream will live on.

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Write What you Know – Misleading or Misunderstood?

We have all heard those words, the first cardinal rule told to any aspiring author: write what you know. Some say that this is the worst piece of advice that could ever be given in the history of the written world. But in true Tisy Typer form, I am going to play a bit of the devil’s advocate with this one, mainly because I believe that it’s a bit of misunderstood advice.

Those who take the words at their face value find themselves at a loss; does this mean that to write a believable murder mystery you have to actually have the experience of killing someone? Or to write about an actor, do you need to jump out there and get your fifteen minutes of fame so that your frame of reference is authentic? By that same token, J.K Rowling should have personally attended Hogwarts, Suzanne Collins would have to participate in the Reaping for the annual Hunger Games, Douglas Adams should have dragged a towel through the universe and Tolkien should have annual birthday parties with the hobbitsies. And yet these are all still excellent books. So do these examples themselves refute the old quote?

No. You see, there is a very similar thread that runs through all of these stories, and it is a rather simple one. They were all written in such a way to make you feel something deep in your gut, something true, something genuine. These authors wrote about what they knew in terms of the emotions that they used. Have you ever been so scared that you felt your body move on pure instinct- you could run a thousand miles, pick up the baseball bat you have next to the door, scream bloody murder in the middle of the room? You have just discovered the animalistic fear that shades The Hunger Games. Have you ever felt like you didn’t belong, like there was something different about you that everyone else could see? Have you ever felt the desire to protect those that you love? Do some of those emotions remind you of Harry Potter at all? The truths that you need to write aren’t superficial events, they are the truths buried within your soul. They are your fears, your hopes, your dreams, your emotions. The thing that makes a book truly magical is the feeling that it can generate in another. The books that speak to me are the ones that seem to be reading my soul and reflecting it back to me. They say the words that I have never been able to utter. Those are the stories that change me, those are the things that make a good writer elevate to a great one.

It’s easy to get caught up in superficial thoughts and emotions of a scene, to plot and plan what you would expect a character to feel- which is right enough in its own way, but you can’t forget to add that prism of personal color. You need to tap into your own heart to convince your audience that the words you say are real. Use these lessons, these experiences, these deep emotions- and bring your work to life. If you wish to make an impact, you have to learn to bleed your soul into your writing. Otherwise you will be just another fluffy novel on the shelf, to be easily forgotten.

We want to see fiction that speaks to us because it is full of truths. We take inspiration from everything that we encounter in life; the books we read, the movies we watch, the magazines we scan, the news that assaults our ears, the coworkers in the breakroom- the world is full of nothing but literary fodder. We love the created realms that remind us of a part of our own lives. We are drawn to apocalyptic fiction because it feels like that is where our world is headed, it feels like the road we are traveling. We see a terrifying truth within those pages. We love Harry Potter because, in spite of the simmering cauldrons, incantations and wand waving, we remember what it was like growing up. We remember that girl in class who knew all of the answers, the boy that everyone wanted to know, we all had that funny best friend that made all of the difference. We remembered the friends of our own past that became family; fights and all. We also recognized the simple fact of a world divided. There were those that believed in keeping the wizarding bloodlines pure, and those that felt embracing diversity would be the answer to all of their problems. Doesn’t that sound like a familiar theme? We want to see something that we can recognize in a world full of wonders and adventures. We can look at the pain and problems of our own world through the prism of a story.

When I read a book I want to feel something. I want words that will resonate in my soul. I want to feel like I am not alone- because at least one other person out there has felt the way that I have felt. We all have such varied experiences to color our work. Some know the pain of losing a loved one, the deep struggle of dealing with addiction, the joys and frustrations of love, the fear and panic a midnight call can bring- we have more stories within us than we will ever know. Write what you know, be brave enough to remind your readers that they are not alone in this big scary world.

The Rough Draft: Building Sand Castles

Once upon a time in the land of the laptop, hidden in the obscure folders no one but the renowned author would ever dare visit, there lived the mysterious first draft. And what a horrendous creature he truly was. Stitched together with well-intentioned words and colored with a myriad of flourishing descriptions, he grew into something unrecognized by his creator. He face was pocked with plot holes, he was verbose with his descriptions, and minimal where it truly counted to make a point. His word choices were elementary and unrefined, he had more ‘buts’ than an ashtray and more ‘ands’ than this sentence. His grammar was tragically outdated, and his conclusory comments were rather anti-climactic. The average author would run in sudden fear at the sight of such a monster. But not this author, no. Much like Shrek, this author saw the potential buried under the grimy prose of the creature. This author was the Belle that would turn this beast into a beautiful prince.

Anyone who has tried to write a novel knows that the first draft is only the beginning, it is the tiny tip of the colossal iceberg. It’s not like in the movies where you sit down, you type and then in one fell swoop you have an instant best-seller with no need for revision. I tried to explain this once to someone who has been asking to read my work for a while now. I mentioned that I needed to do one more round of editing before the project would be ready. Their response, while well intentioned, was fairly misled. They believed that I had worked hard enough on the draft that someone should enjoy it. While it is true, I had put my blood, sweat and tears into the project- that was exactly why I didn’t want anyone to see it yet. When you work so hard on something, you want it to show, and often time the first draft does not reflect the work that went into it.

I have to constantly remind myself that the first draft is just the first stepping stone, the true heart of the work happens after the crude words are penned. I keep some quotes taped to my writing desk, right at eye level so that they are easily seen when I am ready to toss down the pen or close the laptop and walk away. They remind me to keep fighting for my goals, they propel me to give it just one more try. There are hundreds of quotes floating around out in the world that tell about the difficult struggle that is the first draft, leading me to believe that even the best writers feel the same pressures that the humble little no-name me feels too. These are just a few of my favorites:

No one is going to see the first draft unless you decide that you want them to. Think of it like the solo runs, preparing you for the big race. Don’t take yourself so seriously, and don’t expect your work to glitter and shine at this stage. There will be parts that you write that will make you beam with pride at your own genius, and there will be parts that make you cringe and seriously contemplate burning it all. But in the end, the first draft is only the groundwork.

This draft is for you, to flesh out the story and figure out what it really is that you want to say. Personally, I usually go into my first draft with a particular idea in mind, but by the end I am starting to see a glint of something new shining through. It isn’t until I begin my revisions that I start to see what it is that had been hidden under all of my other thoughts and bubbling words. I find the heart of my work and start brushing all of the clutter away to make it shine. Tell yourself the story that you want to hear so that you will be ready to speak it to the world when the time comes.

Then again, if you prefer to be blunt…

Oh Hemingway, never one to mince words. Perhaps you prefer the route of brutal honesty, if that is the case, then this is the quote for you. I have to say, to know that someone with such talent and success felt this way about his work- it gives me hope that perhaps I am not too far off the mark myself.

This next one is the one that I keep right in front of my eyes at my desk, it is my constant reminder of what I am actually doing…

Every time I write a first draft, I hate it- I can see the promise, but it is never the grad word I had hoped for it to become. I always have a vision in my head of what the story will look, sound and feel like. I begin my draft with the best of intentions, and yet my final product never matches what I had thought it would become. There is always a trace of it’s true potential underlying the mess I have made, a beautiful string that echoes the truth I had hoped to convey. That is the moment when it is time to wield the red pen with a vengeance, slicing through the muck and the grime to let the true promise shine through.

I can tell as I an writing that I am not doing my story justice. There are days when I feel like I should quit my current project, put in some more work practicing, and then come back when I feel like my skills are more on level with the caliber of story I want to write. Don’t fall into this trap. The first draft is not meant to be beautiful, it is not meant to be good. There may be people out there who think that writing is simply sitting at your keyboard, running through one draft and then shopping for a publisher- they have simply never bled over a keyboard the way that we do. Your work is like an iceberg. The first draft is just the tip that pops out of the water line; all of the editing is below the surface. A first draft is a warm up, the work out is in the editing. I could come up with a hundred other analogies, but I bet you get the picture.

Your first draft doesn’t have to be perfect- if that is what you are aiming for, you will never reach your goal. The first draft is meant to be ugly and messy. It is the bones of your story, to be molded and shaped later. It is simply a start. Don’t give up when the first draft is not what you envisioned. You are simply shoveling sand into a box so that later you can build castles. And what beautiful castles they will eventually be, if you are willing to take the time to sculpt them.

Small Successes are the Biggest Battles

Some days you have to celebrate the small successes, those little moments when you feel like you are simply treading water instead of going anywhere significant. Some days I feel like a rock star, taking giant leaps in the direction of my dreams, other days a tiny nudge is the closest I will get towards moving in the right direction. It’s okay to have these days. If all you have left in you is the ability to stand your ground when it feels like the current is threatening to pull you backwards- that is still a success. Some days, the best thing that you can do for yourself is hold still and let the storms pass.

Today was a day of small steps. After a long week, it feels good to just sit here with my laptop and a blanket. I don’t feel like I’m on my A-game right now, but I’m also not feeling too guilty about that either. Today I didn’t leap forward, there was no kicking ass or taking names. Today I simply scooted a bit closer to my goals. We put so much pressure on ourselves to be the best, to push the farthest, to work hard now so that we can play hard later. We fight so hard for our productive time that we never slow down and take a breath. Refresh yourself, take a break, you are only human after all.

So today I will celebrate writing a post. I will dance for joy because the laundry is finally in the dryer (now whether I get around to folding it will be another story. Spoiler- probably wont be happening before I go to bed). I will tout my success because I typed another page when it took everything I had inside to string one word after another. The fight doesn’t have to be large and earth-shattering to still be a struggle. I may be hanging on by my fingertips some days, but I am still hanging on. So for those of you out on this branch with me- cheers, my friends. We can do it.

Harry Potter is back (with a Cursed Child)

I couldn’t tell you where I first discovered the little paperback; I don’t know if a friend suggested it, or if, more likely, I spied it’s cartoonish cover on a nondescript shelf and found my interests piqued. After all- a boy with wild black hair and a lightning bolt scar sailing across the cover on a broomstick- what wasn’t to love? I don’t remember where I sat when I read the first page; as I have re-read it so many times that a multitude of images flash before me when I try to recall the moment. But I do remember the first time I read the very first words themselves, “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” By the time I reached the last sentence of the first chapter, I was tempted to raise my own Capri Sun in solidarity with the wizards, chorusing ‘To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!’ I was hooked faster than you could say Quiddich. And thus was born a literary love that still captures my imagination the same way it did when I was eleven years old and desperately awaiting my own owl.

J.K Rowling brought us a magical world full of hope, promise, curiosity and valuable life lessons. She brought to life a world of her own imaginings in such a beautiful way that even as adults, we find ourselves desperately attempting to recreate it. Don’t believe me? Look to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, or what about the Hogwarts Extreme events where you can actually take part in role playing at a re-creation of the infamous school? Movies have been made to emulate it, parties are thrown in it’s wondrous themes, the internet is full to bursting with fan fictions, stores are inundated with memorabilia, cookbooks tout nearest recipes to the treats and drinks mentioned within those fluttering pages. And lets be honest- how many of us kept holding our breath waiting for an owl to deliver a very special letter, no matter what age we were? Harry Potter brought light to a dark world, it brought people together on a level that is still hard to find. And now a new generation is coming to love it.

This post was originally meant to be a book review on ‘Harry Potter and the Cursed Child,’ in fact, the first draft was already typed out and ready to go. But I couldn’t seem to bring myself to hit that little blue ‘publish’ button. So here I am, starting over. You see, reading the newest installment of the book that inspired so much passion within my younger self brought with it a slew of emotions that I am not entirely sure I know how to process yet.

Don’t worry- there are no spoilers coming to ruin your reading, this is a safe zone; consider it Grimmauld Place. As I read the newest installment, I found myself fighting two opposing feelings. To start; I was deeply disappointed with the portrayal of my childhood heroes. There was an air of depressing adulthood hovering around them that ruined my illusions about their happily every after lives. I don’t know about you, but I like to envision that after the dust has cleared, my favorite characters will still be the strong, admirable people they had become as we delved through those pages together. In this regard, I found them lacking- but that was just my own personal opinion. I will simply leave it at that and move on. Then there was the second feeling, the one that really took root in the second half of the play: once again I was able to experience the story with fresh eyes, not knowing what would happen next. It was the same excitement I felt whenever another new release came out; the same kind that sent me to the bookstore for a grand release, begging my parents for the money to purchase my very own hard cover copy which I would immediately run off to my room to read in complete silence. I remained fully immersed in the wizarding world that felt like a home away from home until the last page. It is a rare treat to find a book that will call such feelings to a soul. I was thrilled- I liked the main characters and had a genuine interest in what would happen to them. As for the Cursed Child, there were plot holes and character inconsistencies uncharacteristic of the author that has penned so many of the stories that I love, but I kept reading because at the heart of the story the crux was the same; it was a magical remembering of a bygone era in my own life. I can forgive much because it is Harry Potter, but on the flip side of that coin, I also know that I inadvertently hold it to a higher standard simply because I know what Ms. Rowling is truly capable of.

In spite of it all, do you know what the book really showed me? It showed me how much I missed the originals, how deeply I craved to find another literary world that I could fully immerse myself in like I did once upon a time when I was a child. I was always a deep lover of books; walking away from our regular trips to the library with a stack nearly as tall as myself (and I am not a short girl). It reminded me of the joys that the written word can bring you, the opportunities that it opens up, the lessons that it teaches. I missed it. And for just a little while, I was able to have that back- even though it wasn’t exactly the same.

There is something special about an author who can bring an entire world to life, that can make so many people feel so much for a few fictional characters. When friendships broke apart, I felt the heartbreak. When relationships formed, I celebrated with my own joy. When mysteries showed themselves, I pondered their answers long into the night. When people died, I shut the book and grieved. There are still scenes that I cringe to revisit, though I know I must re-read every word. And when victory was clutched from the hands of defeat, I felt the same pride welling within myself. As I said- it takes an author with a true talent for the craft to inspire such strong emotions using only the written word.

I always wanted to be able to write like her, with the same attention to detail, the same well plotted story line, connecting all of the seemingly insignificant dots throughout the thousands of pages that make up the series. I practice and I try, hoping that some day I might create something that is only half as magical. That is what it is really all about- this world of the storyteller. We want to reach people on a deeper level, we want to speak the secrets of their souls that they didn’t think anyone else understood. We want to give people an escape from a dark world, something to hope for, something to bond over, something to draw us all a bit closer to one another. Words have power- you don’t have to recite a lengthy political article to show people a way of living that they have been blind to. You have to simply tell them a story, something profoundly entertaining, and bury your meaning deep within. They will learn something without even realizing that it is happening.

As I said, I had originally meant for this post to be a book review- proclaiming the successes of the play and the sheer downfalls that left me feeling empty. But instead, I think my time is best served reminiscing over something that I loved; something that millions of others loved too. It is easy to poke a hole in another’s work, to shine a blinding light into the plot holes, emphasizing the inconsistencies. But look at all that has been accomplished. This week an entirely new generation got to feel the same excitement that we felt as children waiting in line for our own copies of the book. We got a chance to relive that same thrill ourselves. For the first time in a long time I had the unmatched joy of cracking open to that first page and finding characters that I still cherish waiting there inside for me. In spite of the things that I may not have been a fan of- that right there is what it is all about.

And if by chance Ms. Rowling finds it in her heart to grace the world with a prequel series about the Marauders- well, that would just be icing on the cake. So tonight I raise my glass and say Cheers to Harry Potter, the boy who lived, and thank his creator for a childhood full of beautiful memories and wondrous adventures.

Inspired Work: You Write What You Read

My advice to all writers: read voraciously. I know, it is hard to find the time when you are busy with your regular life as well as the actual act of writing- but the fastest way to hone your craft is to take in the art form of others. Don’t stop with one genre- read them all, dabble in them the way you would dabble in chocolates, leave no stone unturned. And don’t stop with just novels: there are newspapers, magazines, textbooks, blogs- so many things out in the world for us to enjoy, grab them with both hands and run with them. Find your voice by listening to the voices of others. Not only will you discover the style best suited to you, but the content of your work will be richer and more diverse for it. The ideas of others will feed your imagination. We are not islands unto ourselves, we are best when we are challenged by other beings.

Artist tend to view the world through a different lens than most, we want to pick it apart down to it’s elements in an attempt to understand it, and then piece it back together again without a crack. We watch people and events and allow our experiences to bleed over into our work giving the world a fresh perspective that only we can provide. We soak up the world; isn’t it only fitting that the words we absorb will also influence our constantly churning minds. Consciously or not, we tend to write what we read.

For example, if you immerse yourself in the world of old Victorian classics, there is a good possibility you will begin to see some flourishing descriptions wiggling into your work, with an eloquent style of speaking that could be considered slightly stiff to the modern pop culture novel. Or you may go in the opposite direction and find yourself entrenched in the most current paranormal romance, in which case you may find a touch more humor imbedded in your work, or a cruder dialect and detailed descriptions of physical activities. We tend to inadvertently use similar word choice or stylistic tendencies when we read specific types of literature over a long period of time.

When I decide to attempt working in a new genre, I like to immerse myself in it, to glean the style most suited to myself while still delving within the correct parameters for the work. Let’s take my current project for example: this is the first time I have ever tried my hand at an urban fantasy. I have read other books in this genre, and I knew the general style. But the last project I worked on was a sequel to a twisted fairy tale- which was distinctly different (that in itself found inspiration in several marathons of the tv show Once Upon a Time). So I started reading, watching and listening to everything I could get my hands on that would put me in the right frame of mind. A few of the prominent influences: the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris, the Belador series by Sherrilyn Kenyon, The Blood Gospel by James Rollins and Rebecca Cantrell, American Gods by Niel Gaiman, Interview with a Vampire by Anne Rice, among others. And those are just the books: I tend to watch shows and movies that fall into the same category as well.

I am addicted to learning new things, and I love when I can carry that into my writing. I am constantly trying to push the boundaries of what I know. So I make a point to read new science articles and history books. I can’t tell you how many ideas started with a tiny spark from an article that I read or a historical connection that I made. It’s exciting when you learn to tie fiction with reality in a seamless manner. I’m subscribed to several science e-mail lists and magazines, I read opinions of current events, I follow other blogs of varying subjects, I have mountains of books falling in every genre. We live in a world where virtually everything you could possibly learn is at your finger tips- a lot of it for free. Why don’t we take more advantage? Don’t feel like reading? Watch a show, a documentary, a pod cast. Listen to an audiobook (Audibles was surprisingly life changing for me). Take the time to absorb the world. You wont regret it.

The written word is a gateways into other worlds, new realities to color our own experiences and our work. Delving into the imagination of another will help you make new connections in your own. Your work will be stronger through the work of others. Strong writing is usually a reflection of strong reading. You can twist your style, play with the words to find your own unique voice. You can dabble and play, have fun with the craft and revel in the hard work of others that carry within their hearts the same literary calling as yourself. Read voraciously, open your mind to the world and the ideas it carries within. You will be better for it, your work will be stronger. Never stop learning, never stop reading.

Camp Nano for the Win! (Time for the Happy Dace)

I did it, the deed is done! That is right, my friends, about two days ago I finished my 50,000 words for July and have validated my Nano project. Cue the parade! …oh, so I forgot to put one on back order? My mistake. Okay then, I guess a nice little victory dance will do.

And maybe just one more move to bust…

How do you celebrate an epic win, one where you snatched victory right out of the mouth of defeat at the last second? Do you pull up a chair on the edge of Mount Doom and warm your toes by the heat of the volcano? Or parade through the streets of Panem, delivering chaos to the Capital? How about walking into your happily ever after with the love interest of your choice, conveniently ignoring the banalities of the every day- like the dreaded laundry? No, I for one have a much better idea that does not follow in the footsteps of my literary heroes. You take a well deserved break (hence why I’m just now writing this post a few days later instead of proclaiming my victory the moment I hit validate). It was relaxing really, not having the word count hanging over my head. I took the dog for a walk without running through the plot lines I would be delving into later that night. I played with my Snapchat (I know, it’s silly, but its a mild obsession that I just can’t help- how else would I know what I would look like as a Dalmatian or with a can of gummy worms on my head? Besides- the cat eye filter inspired a whole new attempt at eyeliner- a failed attempt, but I tried and that is the point!)

Last night, to celebrate my only true day of complete freedom, I went out and had a tasty adult beverage with my dinner of crab wontons and pineapple fried rice. After that delicious treat, my fiancé had a terrible lapse in his judgment: as the aforementioned adult beverage was still swimming through my bloodstream (it was just one drink, so don’t worry- no issues of public intoxication here), he took me to Target to get the new bedding I have been talking about for weeks. As most women are well aware- alcohol and shopping, while ridiculously fun, usually results in a lot of stupid ‘gifts’ for yourself coupled a sad wallet. This is a lesson he learned after Cinetopia was built into our local mall (for those that do not have the theater franchise, it is a ‘luxury’ style movie theater that serves some alcohol in specified theaters- highly recommended if you are in the mood to splurge a little bit, as they can be a bit spendy). After one memorable double date in which the four of us shared a pitcher of Lost Coast Tangerine, my best friend and I dragged our men into a couple of our favorite stores that happened to all be on the walk out of the building. There is a slight possibility that I walked away with some fantastic Harry Potter memorabilia (which I still adore), and, for reasons still unknown to me, a conical straw hat. Lucky for him, I did have enough common sense not to buy the E.T doll that was half my height. Needless to say, he knows better than letting me go into a store after happy hour.

After some serious contemplations over the need of a Hulk fist coffee mug and a vintage Iron Man poster- for my office at work of course, the walls have been bare since I ‘moved in’ to it. My fiancé claimed his own personal victory when he got me to walk out with only the bedding we had gone there for. In fact- he managed to do this twice, because we wound up going back an hour later to pick up the one thing our bedding didn’t come with. As it turns out, just because the bag says ‘eight piece set,’ there is a very good possibility that six of those pieces will be pillow cases and you will still be in desperate need of sheets. You live and you learn.

After that lively adventure I allowed myself to lay in bed and binge watch one of my ‘shame shows.’ So called because very few people ever get to hear what it actually is that I’m watching. Even I know when my viewing pleasures are a bit sub-par. It felt good to take a night off without feeling the stress and pressure that comes from knowing you should really be working on something else.

Now that the ‘vacation’ is over- what is going to happen next? After we roll up our virtual sleeping bags, sign one another’s yearbooks and hop onto the pretend bus that will take us back to our regular lives- what is the plan now that Camp is coming to a close? I bet you can guess the answer.

Drum roll please:

MORE WRITING!

That’s right, it is time to get back into my regular writing groove. I am ready to hop back into the driver’s seat, re-energized and ready to go. My Nano story is still nowhere near completion. I need to do a bit more plot sketching after some changes I decided to make, and then I can move along with it. After that I will probably put this one up on the shelf to marinate for a little while as I begin editing an older project. It’s tough because I have a whole list of new ideas that I would love to get started on, but I need to finish up some of the older projects and get them ready for the terrifying step of beta reading.

And of course, there will be many more posts than there were this past month. I regretfully apologize for the sudden plummet in content this past month. It was the first time I have ever attempted a Nano while keeping up with a blog, and needless to say- it was a learning experience. I had hoped that I would be a natural, but there is a bit of a curve here. I think I will be much more prepared for when November rolls around. My dear friends will not be stuck with a once or twice a week post.

This Nano was a whole new world of learning that I didn’t realize I needed. I met some fantastic people in my little Cabin writing group, and I am so thrilled that many of them seem to be on board with continuing the group even after Camp has ended. I adore my writerly friends, they make me feel accepted in a way that is hard for me to find in my offline world. I also learned a valuable lesson in time management and balance, one that I know will probably still take a bit more time to completely figure out. I suspect you will be hearing more about this once I figure out the tricks to it. I also walked away with a ton of new ideas that I have to get down before I lose.

So cheers my friends, to another successful month, in spite of all of the little roadblocks and difficulties. The task is complete, I am ready to hit the re-set button and start over again. That’s the funny thing about writing- there really is no ending. The story continues, whether on the page or off. So may the words find you well. Don’t forget to take some time to stretch out, relax and enjoy. As for me, it’s time to get back to the work that I love. But first- let’s have one more victory dance before we start, shall we?

Final Week of Nano: A Cautionary Tale

Seven days and counting until the Camp Nano clock counts down to zero, potentially proclaiming us as conquerors of the word war. If we were in a novel right now, we would be reaching that point in the plot where the world is falling apart quickly, and pretty soon we will have to make an astounding comeback if we want to snatch our happily ever after from the jaws of our enemies. This would be the put up or shut up moment, the time when us (the hero of our own little story) would come charging into the fray, sword drawn, and show the world our true grit. Except in this story, our epic battle is of the writing kind, and the enemy is time. I will be honest, I am feeling the pressure, that steady roll of panic is cocooning me like a sleeping bag. I don’t normally cut it this close, but this time around: I am getting worried.

I can’t believe how fast July has zoomed by, we are in the home stretch, and I have to make a confession: this has not been my best writing season. I came into the month with such high expectations of myself, ambitious in spite of all of those extra activities I had planned for the month. And then I flopped. Hard. I haven’t been posting as much as I should have right here on this blog, even though I have a huge list of topics to write about in a binder at my desk right now. My Nano story still feels like it is in it’s infancy, even though I have been slowly chipping away at it throughout the month. The plot changed about two weeks into July when I came up with a new idea for a sequel, so that set me back a bit. I am still excited about it though, I haven’t grown tired of the storyline, even if the words aren’t quite coming out the way I had envisioned just yet.

I am not normally one to be biting my nails and hoping for a win at the end of Nano, but this go round- I am a bit nervous. I think I’ll still make it- so far I haven’t lost a Nano yet, and I don’t plan on starting now. But I am also normally much farther ahead at this point. I had hoped that this Camp would be the one where I finally hit that illustrious 100k, but that ship has sailed, unless I magically find a month’s worth of writing time in the next seven days- unlikely when I will be busy with work and life. This blog is as much about the writing failures as it is about the successes, although I do hesitate to call anything related to writing a failure. If I am still plodding along, it is a success. If I haven’t given up on the big dream, if I am still fighting for my future niche in this world- that it is not a failure, merely another learning experience.

This, my dear friends, is a cautionary tale of writerly woe, one that I am sure we are all intimately familiar with. I know exactly where I went wrong this Camp, yes, I am well aware of that moment my crazy train went off the rails. I didn’t guard my writing time. It is as simple and as complicated as that. I knew going in that it would be difficult; the summer in general gets pretty busy for me. My work load picks up, it’s vacation season, my fiancé is out of school, and the weather is too gorgeous to constantly stay inside.

I am not always very good when it comes to balance. I tend to be an all or nothing person, my middle ground usually erodes fairly quickly. It is something that I always have to work on. And this Nano I made the fatal error of not coming up with my personal plan, I didn’t set out my daily goals or even decide when I would be working. So there were days when I simply didn’t. Not that I necessarily regret those: it has been a busy month, but I’ve had one hell of a good time this summer: lots of walks and hikes in new areas, good movies, a long vacation to the beach, new places to eat- the adventures have been endless, the fodder for future stories is delectable. The problem is that I didn’t find the balance. I played hard without working hard on some days, and then there were those burn out days where all work and no play made Katie a dull girl.

You have to find a realistic balance, and then you have to follow your plans. Whether you have to wake up early and dedicate an hour to the project, or get yourself home early so that you can spend two hours before bed typing away; you need a plan, a schedule to adhere to. It’s not always easy to say no to a fun plan because you have writing to do. But there are days where you will have to make this sacrifice if you want to be a published writer someday. And then there are days where you have to remember that you still need to live outside of those glorious pages that you have created.

I am still working on the balance, I am still trying to find the plan that works best for me. For those of you who have it all figured out, I am jealous and very proud of you. It is not an easy task, my friends. I can only hope that eventually I will work out a routine that satisfies my goals and my personal demands. I am not there yet, but I am working on it. Forever busy with the task of self-improvement.

But there is a silver lining to this cautionary tale: the game is not over. We may be in the final inning, but there are still points to be scored (or perhaps the correct analogy would be home runs to hit? I wish I were more into sports). And I know that I am capable of hitting my target still. I just have to have the discipline I have been lacking this month. I have to sit down and focus, I have to put my work before my play. It is seven whole days. I can make one more week work for me. Besides, there is still next weekend for that final push. If I really sit down and delve into this, who knows what I might be able to accomplish.

As our hour glasses are beginning to run out of sand, I tell you good luck, my friends. We can still do this, the fight is not over yet. Victory is still within our grasp if we are only willing to reach for it. And for those of you who have already ‘won,’ clicking the Validate button with the excited flourish that you deserve- I say congratulations, bask in your glory, enjoy some down time, feast on your favorite treat. And then, when you feel ready, come join me for a drink and a few more good pages. I will be here, typing away as always.

Stood Up By My Muse (Again)

The muse is a fickle creature, one minute inspiring you to ignore the entire universe and feverishly write without thought of food or personal care, then next moment she traipses away like smoke in the wind, leaving you land locked and unsure. If there is a way to force her attendance, I have not discovered it yet. She is a flighty creature, and will come and go as she sees fit. Unfortunatly, she usually picks the most inopporitune times to strike: when I am busy at work, in the shower, or out living my daily life (unfortunately, the groceries have not yet figured out how to buy themselves and walk home).

And yet when I plan out my night, fully expecting her to join me for a romantic computer-lit date filled with witty quips and shocking plot twists- she is nowhere to be found. I am left to type away all on my own, with only the slightest hint of inspiration to keep me trudging through the words to reach my daily goal. I have realized over the years that she is the flaky friend you cannot wait on, because if you do, you will find yourself simply spinning in circles.

So what do you do when your muse stands you up yet again? You can go for a walk, run around the block and hope you attract her attention. But after a while you open your laptop (or notebook, per your preference), take a deep breath and start writing. The muse waits for no one- but if she is to magically appear, she ought to find you working. It is the one thing that might attract her. It’s hard to continue typing away when you have no real fire burning inside of you, when you have to pry every word from your fingertips and paste them to the page. But you do it anyway, because as writers we are that kind of crazy. You write, and you slog through, and in a few weeks when you begin your editing- you wont know which scenes she had been present for, and which ones you fought for all on your own.

Writing is not easy, we don’t do it because it is simple. We do it because there is a story inside of us that must see the light of day before it drives us mad. When the muse decides to grace you with her presence, take advantage of that, write feverishly, stay up late, immerse yourself in the words pouring from your soul. And when she is gone, don’t stop. That flighty fiend will always find a way back to you when you least expect it. Writing is the surest way to draw her back in.

I’m not saying to push it when every fiber of your being needs a break- by all means, take the time you need to recharge. Go for a walk, take a shower, read a book, watch a show, bake something- recharge your batteries. But if she still hasn’t arrived- run and jump, dive back into your story and reach your goals. You can do it, even without her- you are a spectacular writer. Just remember that.

Finding Fellow Adenturers (The Writing Groups)

Writing is a predominantly independent activity; long hours spent in front of a keyboard or with a pen and paper in hand, research, reading, pouring over grammar tips and agonizing over word choice- we have to go it alone for much of the journey simply because we would probably drive people insane if we didn’t. That being said, there is nothing more important to a writer than a good support system. This is a tough field to break into, and even for the novice, you want your words to get out there into the world, to reach someone.

Enter stage left: The Writing Group (queue the fog machine, a touch of mystery will go a long way here).

One of the things that I love most about Nano and the associated camp version- hands down, it’s the people. I have never been one to talk about my writing. Honestly, it took close to a year of dating before my fiancé had any idea that writing was even a hobby of mine. When I was a kid I was a bit more comfortable talking about it; but back then I was young and it was something that I won awards for- it was a good thing. As I grew older, I think people expected that I would grow out of it. Personally- I knew that would never happen, writing is in my very soul. But I also know that there are some things that people just don’t understand, and I was lacking the confidence I needed to stand up for my own interests. So I wrote in empty rooms with no one looking, and I hid the notebooks when people showed up. Even now- I can finally talk to people about the fact that I like to write, but it’s usually a subject saved for a time when I start to feel like I know them, and it’s not something I typically bring up in conversation on my own. It took my fiancé finally proclaiming to people that I was a writer for me to embrace that image. But there are some things I still hate: for example, when someone asks me what I am writing about. All of the old insecurities come to the surface when people want more details others thank ‘yes, I like to write in my free time.’ It doesn’t matter how inspired my ideas seem when I am plotting or writing them, the moment I have to give them life my breathing them into the world- I falter.

But then this magical event appeared on my Google search- Nano came to save the day. Suddenly, I was surrounded (virtually speaking) by people just like me. There is something distinctly different when you talk about your writing project with a ‘regular’ person vs when you talk about writing with someone else who shares your passion. It’s liberating, knowing that for once you are speaking the same language. I didn’t have to be self-conscious, and I certainly didn’t have to figure it all out on my own anymore. Stuck on a scene: the group will help you. Not sure if past tense or present tense would be a better fit: ask the group. Frustrated because the muse stood you up again, even after you had planned out the entire night, romantically lit by your laptop’s backlighting? The group will be your shoulder to cry on, the ear that acts as if they will never get bored with your whining tirades.

It is hard to find a band of renegades that will delve through these tiresome trials with you. But within them you will find the Ron and Hermoine to your Harry Potter, the Sam to your Frodo, the Watson to your Sherlock, the JARVIS to your Iron Man. When you are mired in the pages, bogged down with quotation marks, commas, and the dreaded semi-colon. They will fight beside you and make this lonely profession a bit more lively.

There was a time when I thought that writing had to be done in complete solitude; and this is true to a point. But it doesn’t always have to be like that. My writing groups are my biggest assets, the aces up my sleeve. They commiserate with my frustrations and celebrate my successes. We do that for each other because we have found kindred spirits, of sorts. They keep me on track and rescue me from my plot holes. They have opened my eyes to new ideas and ways of life, they have given me people to cheer for and helped me find confidence when I am sorely lacking. Sometimes you don’t expect that other people will be able to change you. And then they do. You don’t expect that you will want them or need their help. And then you will. You don’t have to be alone on this adventure, after all, even the best had their sidekicks to roam the Misty Mountains with.