At the recent LERA (Land of Enchantment Romance Authors) Christmas party, we exchanged gifts and writing tips. Some of the tips were old stand bys, some were new, and some came at just the right time. The one impressing me the most was: “Set a timer clock for fifteen minutes, and write until the timer goes off. It doesn’t matter what you write, even “I hate writing, I hate my computer, I hate books, this is stupid, why do I put myself through this torture.” Well before the end of the fifteen minutes you’ll be writing in someone else’s mind, and you’ll be back to a story instead of a blank screen.
Or so the theory goes. It can’t be much more difficult than answering e-mails and heaven knows we’re nearly all good at that. You just don’t take your hands off the keys for anything until the fifteen minutes are up.
I’m writing this while my husband takes a shower, which is usually about fifteen minutes. No timer yet but it’s probably not as important as just plain writing. Another tip was to read Lawrence Block’s “Telling Lies for Fun and Profit.” Okay, that was my tip, because that one book has done more to help me over this non-writing hump than anything else. Going to seminars didn’t help, hearing about contests I could enter didn’t help. Reading that book did help. The hint that meant the most to me was what I wrote down for my goal next month. Take your writing seriously, and take yourself seriously as a writer. Have respect for yourself as a writer, and treat writing like the job you want it to be.
This really hit home. How much respect was I giving myself as a writer? And not just a placer of words on a page, but a writer of readable fiction. Was I just skating on the fact I’d written five books, who cares how good they were? Or on the fact I’d actually published for money, albeit it articles for dog magazines? And isn’t that a thrill and a half, to hold that first check? Not quite enough of a thrill to frame it in lieu of cashing but still pretty darned cool.
So I’m taking that advice, writing fifteen minutes every day and turning out something, good or bad. Exercise builds muscle, and you burn calories even when you can’t exercise like the pros. I’m exercising those imagination muscles – they were getting pretty flabby!
Shower’s off, and looky here I wrote my blog for the month! Here’s wishing creative thoughts and flying fingers this holiday season
Miss you all!
Monica Stoner
Why I Can’t Blog Today
1. I have a headache. No, really. And no, it’s not a hangover so just don’t go there. It’s my sinuses. I’ve got bad ones. And with the rain and the changes in barometric pressure, I get all stuffed up. I’ll be okay, but I really can’t blog today.
2. As mentioned above, it’s raining. And rain effects the electrical connections in my house causing little brown-outs, which messes with the router and I lose my internet connection. How can I post the blog without an internet connection? I can’t. So I’m really sorry, but I can’t blog today.
3. I can’t concentrate on blogging because I’m stuck in Chapter Seven. Why am I stuck in Chapter Seven, you ask. Because in Chapter Seven my heroine has to go home, and I have to describe all that “home†stuff. Now, some of the home stuff has little to do with the mystery—and some of it does. But the point is, this is the chapter where I’ve got to introduce some of the ongoing characters who will appear and re-appear in subsequent books in the series. It all happens in Chapter Seven. So you see my dilemma, right? I mean, what if I give my heroine a sister with twins and a nice husband and a cozy lifestyle in the mountains near Lake Tahoe and it turns out in Book Four that the sister should’ve been a New York fashion editor? I could screw up the whole series. Or what if the heroine’s mom is a bi-polar hairdresser and her dad owns a liquor store, and then it turns out in Book Twelve that I really needed the heroine to be an orphan? You’d think I’d already worked all this out, and I have—for Book One. But what if I was wrong? What if–well, you get the idea. Who has time to blog when all this turmoil is eating away at my brain?
4. Christmas is less than a week away. I know most of you are just sitting around waiting for the fun to start but I’ve still got a pile of Christmas cards to write and address and mail, and a whole bunch of presents to buy, and hey, I’ve got to finish that stupid Chapter Seven (see Item No. 3 above), then start Chapter Eight, then pack for the trip to mom’s, and oh yeah, and I’ve got to stop at the drugstore to pick up sinus medicine (for my headache–see Item No. 1 above). But before that, I’ve got to make breakfast, take a shower, get dressed, go to work, FedEx a bunch of stuff to the family back East, then come home, wrap all those presents, finish Chapter Eight, pay bills, and bake cookies for the office holiday party.
So I think I’ve made my point here, right? I’m just too busy to blog. Sorry. Maybe next month.
But meanwhile, y’all have a Happy Holiday and a Wonderful New Year! Cheers!
[Kate Carlisle would’ve posted her really cute photo and some of her truly impressive writing credits but she was just too busy!]
And ooh, sometimes I envy those writers! But you have to know yourself, and since I know me all too well, there will be no shutting down of the computer for me. Oh, I’ll take a day or two, it is Christmas, after all! But then I’ll open up a new document and start work on the next book.
See, I learned a long time ago that if I take a couple of weeks off, I get so far out of writing mode that it takes me several more weeks to get back in. It’s painful to sit in front of your computer and feel as though you don’t know how to write anymore.
It’s much easier to simply stay in writing mode. For me, at this time of year, that means writing one or two pages a day. It’s enough to keep my head in the book and easy enough that I’ll still feel as though I’m getting some time off.
So, during this great time of year, be kind to yourself. Play a little. Hug your kids, drop some money in the Salvation Army kettles. Give a gift to someone who’s not expecting it. Eat some cookies, sing some carols and do just enough writing to keep you ready for all of those January pages.
Maureen Child is the author of more than 100 romance novels and novellas. At the moment, she’s baking cookies and wishing you all—no matter what holiday you’re celebrating—a Merry Christmas and the very best of the season!
Words on 2007…
by Jenny Hansen
I planned an article on Track Changes for this month…really I did. Yet every time I’ve sat down to work on the blog, I’ve found myself writing other things — stories…emails…miscellaneous thoughts.
Christmastime is a very nostalgic season for me filled with family, traditions and memories of loved ones who are no longer here to celebrate. December marks the birthday of my first “baby girl†– 90 pound Akita, Hoshi – who just turned 12 today. That might not sound like a lot in dog years but in human years, she just turned 84. Impressive.
I made a celebration out of what could very well be her last birthday – bought pink party hats and a snazzy birthday bandana, gave her extra treats. We took her Golden Retriever friend, Tatum, to Dog Nirvana in Huntington Beach for a snack and a two mile walk…not bad for an old girl like Hosh.
Note:
Dog Nirvana is better known to locals as the Park Bench Café in Huntington’s Central Park where doggies get to eat breakfast (Hoshi had the Wrangler Roundup) with their humans and then walk along numerous trails, sniffing doggie smells and chasing ducks. If you’re an Orange County dog owner and you haven’t visited the Park Bench, you’re missing out! http://www.parkbenchcafe.com/
As we walked the trails, I looked down at my girl and lived in my memories of her. I thought of the changes we have weathered together these last twelve years: my entire 30’s, the tragedy of September 11th, the tearing grief of my mother’s death, the shining joy of my marriage. I’m hoping she will see the birth of my children and the advent of my 40’s next November.
Now that the party is over, she’s lying in a patch of sunlight in my office while I finish this article, snoring away as holiday music soars through the air.
After I post this, I will finish the baking I do every year at this time, bringing to life the treasures I’ve made each year for all my memory, as did my mother and her mother and grandmother before her. I make recipes like divinity, Almond Roca and Russian tea cakes that have been handed down through our generations.
Each November, I look forward to pulling out the package of papers and special notes, this one written in my grandmother’s elegant penmanship and that one in my mother’s bold scrawl. Each year, the ritual brings the shimmering presence of these strong women into my kitchen where I’m able to visit with them for a short time.
In a few hours, my house will smell like the home of my childhood and Hoshi will come lay her head against my leg and look up to give me “cute eyesâ€, begging for treats. In these final days of 2007, I wish each of you such a perfect day.
Next month is soon enough for the article on Track Changes…today is for family.
Happy Holidays!
By day, Jen manages the sales and marketing for a national training firm (after 12 years as a corporate software trainer, it’s nice to be able to sit down while she works). By night, she writes women’s fiction, chick lit and short stories as Jenny Hansen. She has been a member of OCC since 2001 and has served as the Orange Rose Contest Coordinator, as well as on OCC’s Board of Directors in a variety of capacities.
by Rebecca Forster
I guess you’ve figured it out. The months of the year are my inspiration for this blog. You tune in and I give you my take on – well, something about the month. Sometimes it’s a stretch, sometimes not. But now it’s time for the big one.
December. Xmas. The holiday season.
So much to write about and so little time. Gifts. Holiday music. Horrid materialism which, if truth be told, would be relabeled miraculous generosity if I was the one opening a little blue box from Tiffany’s on Christmas morning. Be that as it may, I’m a writer and this time I’m not going to take the easy way out. I want to give you something to think about. I want my words to paint a picture that is eloquent in its simplicity, deep in meaning. In short, a blog that is unforgettable.
I want to tell you a cautionary Christmas tale. It is true. I saw it with my own eyes.
We lived in Los Angeles then. Our families were still in the South Bay. With parents getting on, brothers and sisters spread out all over the country, we felt obligated to spend the Christmas holidays driving: Long Beach, Redondo and back home to Los Angeles more times that I could count.
Back and forth; forth and back. Nothing spectacular – until two days after Christmas. The children were asleep in the back of the car. My husband was silent, tired of the freeways and cheer that had run its course. I sat beside him, my head resting on my upturned palm, thinking about nothing in particular. It was late afternoon and I would have nodded off too – but then I saw her.
I sat up straight and touched my husband’s arm. I raised my chin. He looked. His eyes narrowed. We didn’t wake the children. We didn’t want them to see the woman standing on the off-ramp but we couldn’t take our eyes off her. We passed her slowly. For a fleeting moment I wondered if we should stop. She looked so pitiful. I started to speak but my husband shook his head. He drove by. I swiveled in my seat hoping she saw that I, at least, sympathized. Perhaps she felt my interest. She turned to watch us. I saw the terror in her eyes. We could have helped. We didn’t. She held up her sign. The words were burned into my memory.
Spent too much at Xmas. Please help.
I turned my back just as the late afternoon California sun caught the diamond on her hand and shot a Christmas star of light into my eyes. She pulled her fur coat tight around her, shook back her streaked hair and turned to the next car. There, I thought, but for the grace of a credit limit, go I.
Merry Christmas to all those who give and those who receive.
Rebecca Forster
http://www.rebeccaforster.com/
HOSTILE WITNESS
SILENT WITNESS
PRIVILEGED WITNESS
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