Here I blog about writing, editing, reading, books, submissions, freelancing, getting published (and rejected), journalism, revisions, life after the MFA, teaching writing, and living the writer's life. Welcome. BUT -- if you are a writer: Write first, read blogs second.




Friday, February 20, 2015

Friday Fridge Clean-Out: Links for Writers -- February 20, 2015 Edition

> Ann Hood--novelist, memoirist, essayist, editor, teacher--talks about her latest novel, her start as a writer, process, and much more, in an interview at The Writer. She was one of my MFA mentors, and I continue to learn from her, always.

> If you're here, you're a reader. Maybe you'd like to up your reading tally for the year? Check out the 50 Book Pledge (or 75, 100, 150, 200).

> The New York Times Sunday Magazine has been "re-launched" (and redesigned, re-imagined) in print and online. Except for those (like me) who are upset at the loss of the Lives column as a freelance essay venue, I'm hearing mostly favorable reviews about the first installment.

> Speaking of the Times, the Modern Love column (in the Sunday Styles section) continues as one of the most coveted pieces of literary real estate for creative nonfiction writers. This teleseminar on March 22, by an ML author, looks worth the time, and it's affordable.

> If you blog or maintain a website, you probably need stock images from time to time. HubSpot Blogs breaks down "10 Sites for Free, Non-Cheesy Stock Photos."

> My involvement with The Writers Circle (northern NJ) continues with teaching, and for the second time, acting as co-editor of a twice-yearly online journal. It features the work of some current and past adult, teen, and child writers. Here's the latest installment; for most, it's their first publication.

Have a great weekend!

Image: Flickr/Creative Commons, Lazurite

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Guest Blogger Sandra Hurtes on How a Writer Stays Committed With No Promise of Success

This blog, which I've been publishing for eight years, continues to bring me into contact with many wonderful writers. Sometimes a single email exchange grows into a week-long or month-long (or longer) conversation; often, I invite that writer to contribute a guest post. That's more or less how I found Sandra Hurtes, who emailed me after reading an interview here with Sue William Silverman, one of her "writing heroes." Sandra is an adjunct assistant professor at CUNY and also studies watercolor painting.

Please welcome Sandra Hurtes.  

When Poets & Writers began its “Why We Write” column, I felt the topic was made for me. I understood the myriad reasons why I put pen to paper and fingers to keyboard. I hurried off an essay, noting my early life as a painfully shy and compliant child and how through writing I had found my voice and myself. When my essay was rejected, I was surprised. Until I went back to work, rewriting, going deeper, and not stopping until I cried. I discovered that it is only through the laying down of word after word after word that I can get to the center of anything, whether it’s a personal essay or a book I’m teaching in a freshman comp class.

As a freelance writer, I’m guaranteed nothing. Not publication. Not a reader. Not a dime for my efforts. And so being aware of the gifts writing bestows upon me is vital; it keeps me returning to the page.

I didn’t always feel this way.

Though I had an early sense that I was a writer, and dreams of literary success, it wasn’t until I was 44 that I settled solidly into my chair to begin the work. It was the 50th anniversary of the Jews’ liberation from concentration camps; my parents were survivors, and I needed to be part of the emerging global conversation. I loved every second (even the tearful ones) of working on my first fully realized essay, “A Daughter’s Legacy.” It first landed in The Jewish Press, then it was republished in The Brooklyn Woman, The Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles, and a small Israeli magazine. The thrill of fulfilling my goal and discovering the joy of writing set me on fire. The following year, I wrote four essays that all found homes in Na’amat Woman, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Washington Post, and The New York Times.  

When the Times called to tell me they were publishing my essay, I was giddy with happiness and nerves, certain I was headed for the big time. The Times piece led to messages from editors and agents who wanted to meet me, and the rush of attention filled a need I didn’t know I had. From my job as an office temp, I called in to my answer machine every half hour for messages. When the Times called to relay agent messages, I was ecstatic. But when there were none, I felt deflated. I was aware of this internal dynamic, and it made me uneasy.

I met with agents and an editor to discuss projects. My ideas included an essay collection or a memoir; I'd already begun a memoir draft. But each person I spoke with was interested in a novel; they assumed I’d been writing for years and had one ready (this was in the mid 1990s, before the memoir mania). My period of "fame" ended with no agent, no book deal, and a bit of insecurity.

I continued to write and publish essays. Sometimes readers wrote to say they connected with me; I loved that. Sometimes an editor reached out; that was an incredible high, underscoring my belief I would eventually make it big—a book turned into a movie turned into a move to Los Angeles to a house with an ocean view and writing as my day job. But in the real world, I still had no finished book manuscript. Wanting to have a book out in the world was a wonderful goal; but for me, it was also a deeply personal form of validation.

I branched out into writing service articles and hoped I’d make a living as a freelancer. This was still a time when you could call up editors and run ideas by them. But the few times I did, my voice trembled.  I felt as if I was putting my life on the line. I mailed my queries instead of calling, most of which received form rejections. Still, studying magazines and coming up with fresh topics was fun; sometimes I wrote entire articles on spec. I loved writing for its own sake, but each time I looked over my shoulder at peers who had agents or books on tables at Barnes & Noble, that pure love shifted. I became competitive and jealous.

I started the novel I thought might be my ticket to success while also working on my memoir and everything else I could squeeze in before, after, and during office jobs. I sent a self-help article to a magazine editor who had loved my Times piece. She left me a long voice mail. Sandra, you don’t have the skills for journalism. You should stick to essays. I’m passing on this article.  I sent it to a rival magazine, and six months later I received an acceptance. But by then I had given up waiting and instead placed it with a poor-woman’s (aka trashy) version of Cosmopolitan. 

My disappointment was blinding. The ups and downs of the freelancers’ life were too painful to manage. I continued to work on my novel, and believed in it enough to hire an editor. But it never quite came together in terms of character development.

One day, I told my mother I didn't want to write anymore. “That makes me very sad," she said.“I hear my voice in your words.” In that moment, I settled back into my chair and thought a lot about why I write.  

Since then, I've gone back to school for an MFA and I’m now an adjunct English professor teaching four classes a semester. I write all the time, mostly preparing lectures. It sounds dull. But the first time I prepped to teach Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, I spent hours exploring how a scientist’s brilliance led to his demise. I was on fire with the process of learning and from the gift I was able to give myself (and my audience of students).

I discovered I could labor over essays, and if they didn’t find a home it was okay. When they did, I was gratified when I heard from readers. As for the most organic book project I had inside of me—the essay collection—I self-published On My Way to Someplace Else. My goal was to contribute a body of work on the Holocaust, and I exceeded that by garnering excellent reviews.

My second book, The Ambivalent Memoirist, has a quirky style of short, digressive chapters. I didn’t look for an agent. I found closure in writing memoir and have closed that "book".  A line in the Publisher’s Weekly’s review -- “Writing as art and psychological salvation is at the heart of this book.”  -- showed me more about what writing means to me.  

Being published in newspapers and magazines is important to me; the reach it provides into other people’s minds and hearts is significant. I still want that. But I no longer feel competitive or even aware of what other writers are doing. I’m wedded to my process that allows me to grow and develop in ways I could not have, had I not become a writer.

Note from Lisa: Sandra would like to give one lucky blog reader a copy of each of her books (print or Kindle, your choice). Simply leave a comment by the end of the day on Saturday, February 28, 2015. US postal addresses only for print). Visit Sandra's website to learn more about her.

Images courtesy Sandra Hurtes.

Friday, February 6, 2015

Friday Fridge Clean-Out: Links for Writers -- February 6, 2015 Edition

Prolific writer Jordan Rosenfeld, in a video hangout with Estelle Erasmus, talks about how she churns out so many essays that get published in so many, many places. Worth the 14 minutes!

> Is being "sponsored" (meaning more or less not having to earn a paycheck) the brass ring for writers struggling to find/make/take enough time to seriously pursue their projects? Start at the Brevity blog with this post, and then follow the links back to the original Salon post that got the conversation started, and sideways to a number of responses, both yay and nay.

> Interested in exploring Canadian literary magazines and journals? Here's a handy round-up (the post date reads 2013, but it was just updated last week).


> The Freelancer offers 17 journalism conferences worth your time in 2015.  (Including the ASJA Annual Conference, where I'm pleased to be on a panel about writing groups.)


> Poet Jessica Piazza is submitting only to paying venues in 2015, and chronicling (tumbling?) her experiences (plus talking with other poets and editors) at Poetry Has Value.  (hat tip Erika Dreifus)

> Another great listening experience - Donna Talarico, founder/editor of the online creative nonfiction journal Hippocampus, on the Higher Ed Social podcast, discussing juggling teaching and editing, and some interesting Hippocampus behind-the-scenes re: submissions, selection, etc.

> Looking for "feminist/inclusive" places to submit writing? The Fem has a list.  (hat tip The Review Review)


> Finally, I don't know a lot about literary translation, but I know what's funny about words, and I love this: Idioms that cannot be literally translated into English. Well they can be, but hold no figurative meaning.  Like: "There's no cow on the ice" from the Swedish.


Have a great weekend!

Image: Flickr/Creative Commons (Filipe Soares Dilley)

Monday, January 26, 2015

Guest Blogger Laraine Herring on The Baby Story Monkey

 I'm pleased to present another guest post (her third!) from someone I respect a great deal. Not only do I enjoy reading and learning from her work, but since we first corresponded about four years ago, Laraine Herring has provided me with inspiration and motivation, excellent advice, insightful critical feedback on my memoir manuscript, many laughs; plus the gift of reading and offering feedback on one of her novel manuscripts. (I'm certain I got the better end of the deal on that one!) I've watched with admiration as she's further shaped and defined an already full writing life that includes college teaching, writing novels and craft books, and nurturing fellow writers through innovative in-person and online ventures.  

Please welcome Laraine Herring.  

I’ve tried many different ways to help my writing students become more comfortable with the essential writer’s quality of vulnerability. They want so badly to “get it” quickly, to be masters of their work, commanders of their ships. They don’t want to screw things up. Feel exposed. I understand. I do, but I have to somehow convince them that not only is it OK—it’s essential—to not know everything all at once.

Writers must spend many hours, days, and months in a space of not-knowing. It’s human nature to want to squirm away from this place. Not knowing makes us feel vulnerable and that can create tension. But our work’s deepest heart is revealed to us slowly, through committed practice and patience.

One semester, my beautiful, normally mild-mannered students turned vicious when speaking about their own works-in-progress. It was as if a tiny evil creature slipped out of their mouths wielding Wolverine-like knives to cut down everything in its path before it had a chance to grow. Where did this venom come from? And what purpose might it serve if we could look underneath it? What lives within the bully?

This class used words like drivel, failure, garbage, crap, ridiculous, absurd, and on and on to describe their early drafts. Mind you, they did not speak about their classmates’ work in those terms. They reserved those labels for their own still-wriggling drafts, treating themselves and their own creations worse than they would ever dream of treating another’s work. At first, I pointed out what they were doing, but that didn't stop the behavior, so I tried an experiment

I went to the dollar store and bought a bushel of brightly colored stuffed hanging monkeys.I brought the monkeys into class and gave one to each student. “This monkey is your writing,” I said. “It’s your early draft. It’s your beautiful creation.” They looked at me like I was crazy, but I was used to that. “Go ahead,” I continued. “Say mean things to it. Tell it it’s worthless. Stupid. Drivel. It’ll never amount to a decent monkey.” And they would try, but of course they’d end up laughing because they were fully grown adults being asked to yell at neon stuffed monkeys. It was absurd. Right?

I’d hold their monkeys’ heads, pressing down on the forehead to make the monkey look sad when they yelled at it. The class started to understand what they were doing. They were destroying something precious with their words. Something new. Something still in the process of becoming.

No one is so intentionally mean that they’ll slice down new creatures on purpose. They didn’t realize the effects of their language on their creative process and their writing lives. They didn’t know what unconscious damage they were doing to their own growth as artists.

When my students could personify their work -- which I encouraged them to refer to as ‘baby story monkeys’ to help reinforce the vulnerability of this new relationship -- they could begin to enter into a more mature place with the work. They could begin to allow it to be what it is as it moves toward becoming what it would be. I see what you’re saying–I think it’s the verb tense that was off.  Personification of the draft allowed them to understand that early drafts and final drafts cannot exist within the same form. As long as they judged their work from its first breath, the work could never trust them enough to take the necessary risks involved in evolving into its future.

Becoming is a fragile thing. We have to hold our work gently so we don’t snuff out its life.

There’s an insidious type of arrogance that most of us carry to some degree that erroneously convinces us that we are the one who is perfect, who will never make that mistake. That arrogance also sneaks in masquerading as negative self-talk. If it can convince us we’re not good enough in the beginning, then we’ll be able to avoid the risks necessary to grow.

However this arrogance manifests in a writer, underneath it lives fear. Fear of not being able to write the story that comes to us. Fear of not having the discipline or persistence or patience to finish. Fear of what might be possible. Fear of the amount of work involved. Fear of being seen. Of speaking a truth. Of being human. If we can cut down something before it has a chance to mature, then we can assure ourselves, through the magic of the self-fulfilling prophecy, that we’ll never have to deal with what could have been. Strike first. Assume the power position and eliminate uncertainty. Eliminate vulnerability. Eliminate mystery. Three elements, as it turns out, which are non-negotiable in the creative process.

Avoid meeting them and you avoid everything. 

Note from Lisa: You can join Laraine on February 28 for a deep-dive virtual (and affordable) retreat: Your Story’s Inner Genius. Early registration ends January 31; registration closes February 21.  Laraine also teaches annually at The Kripalu Institute for Yoga and Health, works as a premium consultant with Tracking Wonder  and is the founder and Head Monkey of Fierce Monkey Tribe.

All images courtesy Laraine Herring.

Friday, January 23, 2015

Friday Fridge Clean-Out: Links for Writers -- January 23, 2015 Edition


> "Like Pushing an Elephant Into a Volkswagon" seems such an apt title for this round-table discussion at The Morning News, with writers talking about how they fit in the writing around day jobs, family obligations, more.  

> Ever wonder if you can get new life from an already-published article, essay, blog post? Here are "16 Sites That Accept Previously Published Writing".

> What writers don't like lists of new ideas or smarter ways to further their art, craft, and business? Brooke Warner gives us 52 ideas of things to try in 2015. I've decided on at least a half-dozen already.

> Many thanks to The Write Life for including this blog again, on their second annual "100 Best Websites for Writers List." Please plan to head over there soon and check out (at least some of) the other 99. I'm in such great company and have found several new sites I want to follow!

> I meant to pass this along a while ago - at Women Writers, Women's Books, Aine Greaney has some smart tips for avoiding certain types of editors and publications.

> Do you go through word nerd phases? A recent one of mine is the contronym, a word that is its own opposite, or one that has contradictory meanings (ex: clip -- fasten together, or cut apart; and here's a great one: fix -- to mend, or...castrate!). They're also called antagonyms or Janus-faced (or just Janus) words. Here's why.

> Years ago, a new, young, and industrious editor at one of the equestrian magazines I wrote for had everyone saying she'd do great things one day. Everyone was right about Laura Hillenbrand, author of Unbroken (and Seabiscuit),but could not have predicted how difficult it would be for her to write those stunning books. I've mentioned her resilience here before, but want to point you to the recent New York Times Sunday Magazine article  about her -- an important read for writers just beginning to tackle (and maybe question and ponder abandoning?) their new year's list of writing goals.

> Reminder - my interview at Storytellers Summit goes live today, and you can hear it until Jan. 31. (Scroll directly below for more info on the 22+ other participants.)

Have a great weekend!

Image: Flickr/Creative Commons (Wackystuff)

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Listen In: Storytellers Summit Presents 20+ Creative Conversations (including little ole me)

As writers, we love getting information via the printed word. But there's something wonderful about not reading and instead listening, just listening, to other writers and creative professionals talk about their work. That's why I tune in to radio discussions about books and writing, bookmark podcasts, and click those "hear from the author" buttons. 
That's also why I am so pleased to be participating in the first StorytellersSummit, taking place right now, online, at no cost. At the site, you can choose to listen to any of the 22 creative folks in conversation with Decoding Creativity founder Julia Roberts.

Roberts recorded the 30-minute conversations, then set up a schedule which, over four days (Jan. 21 – 24 – yes, we're in the middle of it right now!), delivers a thoughtful mix of people, specialties, genres, professions, and entry points. Her core question is about creativity and the creative life. Each day, five or so conversations go live at different times (mine is scheduled for Friday, Jan. 23 at 11:00 a.m. Eastern Time) – and then all will remain available, at no cost, through Saturday, January 31.

Some of the pros whose interviews I enjoyed listening to already  (and can now be heard in any order you like) include Marion Roach Smith on memoir and writing with intention; agent Liza Dawson on nurturing a long writing career; and Beverly Belling on aligning with your creative intuition.

Today's line-up includes talks on storytelling, overcoming writing resistance, graphic novels, and gaining clarity before writing. On Friday, besides my conversation, titled "The Writer's Life," you can hear from others about creative branding, self-publishing, the power of fairy tales, and time management. Saturday brings talks on writing community, crowdfunding for creatives, and lots more.

I chatted with Julia yesterday about her experience organizing and presenting Storytellers Summit:

LR: After talking with all the experts, what did you notice about their creative impulses and creativity practices? What sets them apart?

JR: What sets them apart is that they are very clear about their creative choices. Not only have they made craft choices – various degrees, jobs etc – but they have made life choices to promote their work to others. Many of them also know that if you want a life of creating/writing, you have to do that. No one will do it for you.

LR: How did you decide whom to feature in the Summit?

JR: I set up my learning tracks  – Tell a Story, Sell a Story, The Story in Your Head, Picture Story, and HerStory -  just to suit my own interests. Then I reached out to over 100 experts; some said yes (yay). I pre-interviewed everyone to make sure they had energy and ideas to contribute.

LR:  What are a few things you learned yourself?

JR: I learned so much. Debbie Reber’s pre-writing process will influence me. David Doodleslice Cohen's and Veta Bates' talks on branding got me thinking. My talk with agent Liza Dawson changed my perspective on how “they” think about “us.” I loved talking with Scott McCloud about his creative work over a lifetime and his upcoming book, The Sculptor. And to be honest, I loved the simplicity of your point of view: if you’re going to write, you're going to NOT do something else. Like yoga. Everyone taught me something.

LR:  As a creativity coach, do you find there's a difference in the way people take in and process information via audio interviews than via the printed word?  What can we get from listening?

JR: I like audio, because it’s spontaneous and has energy and humor. You can write with those same qualities, but you can hardly have a live conversation without them. Strange things sometimes happen.

LR: Most people won't be able to listen to all of the conversations they want to at the time they first air. How and when can they access the interviews later on?

JR: The interviews go live at 10:00 a.m. on their day of the schedule. If you listen live, then there’s tweeting from me @heyJuliaRoberts and Facebook discussions immediately following facebook.com/decodingcreativity. Also the conversations will remain active until January 31.

Check out the Storytellers Summit website for the full schedule and roster of interviewees; and follow #StorySumit on Twitter. If you happen to listen to my conversation with Julia, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Image (Listen) - Flickr/Creative Commons, Striatic

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Of Writing Goals, Hope, the Old Year, a New Year, and One Word

My end-of-the-year, start-of-a-new-year newsletter went out about 10 days ago. If you're not on the distribution list, here's the main story, one I hope will speak to writers setting out with new goals for 2015. The full newsletter is here (along with a link to sign up for future ones).

Last year, my word was HOPE. Each year I choose a word, or short phrase, as a beacon of sorts. It helps me remember my way when the writing life (and life, period) acts up.  
 
I wanted to remain full (or at least mindful) of hope, as I sought to publish a memoir-in-essays. As I let go of freelance editing and writing jobs that I enjoyed and which provided part-time income, but were preventing me from developing longer range projects and nailing down teaching jobs. As I worried, as always, about income and health insurance and when and why and how to publish and in what venues.
So I hoped.
 
Some things worked out (teaching jobs, journal publications, editing projects); others didn't (a book publishing offer, mainly). Life acted up, as usual.
 
The manuscript was a finalist in a few contests. Some publishers expressed interest. Some are still considering it. Some sent (what seemed to be) sincere notes:  the best of the worst of the rejections, was from my #2 wish-list publisher, and read in part, "...This is so very lovely, and comes so close, really within a whisper, of what we like to publish. But, alas...".
 
Alas.
 
Another publisher invited me to resubmit after/if I revise the individual essays into a linear narrative -- advice I've heard before (even from myself), thought seriously about, and up to now, have rejected.
 
A mentor of mine who did that told me, "It was like breaking the back of each of those essays." But she did it, and something else, different but lovely, emerged.
 
Could I break the backs of those essays I loved and labored over? The ones editors at various literary journals over the last eight years read, accepted, edited, and published? Those I carefully shaped, revised, polished?  The ones I thoughtfully envisioned as singular, segmented, stand-alone?
 
It's time to think. Maybe my word for 2015 will carry me through. 

I keep my current year's word private, in a perhaps juvenile attempt to protect its potency. It's a word that seems to suggest two contradictory ideas (contronyms, they're called, words like cleave, bolt, strike). 

 I
t's a new year. Do you have a word? 
 
Don't tell me. Tell yourself, over and over. Whisper it, or shout it. Write it down, in your heart, on the inside of your forehead, on your desk, in the air you breathe.
 
Alas, it may be what carries you through your writing year. I hope so. 
 
Images: Flickr Creative Commons: Hope Sign (Pol Sifter); Words (Joe Fife)..
 

Monday, January 5, 2015

Writing Inspiration Redux: 15 Posts Writers Keep Reading

In case you missed a few, and before we move on to all new material, here are the 15 most trafficked posts from 2014 (exclusive of the Friday Fridge Clean-Outs). I'm pleased so many are guest posts from my valued contributors. (And yes, I know "Top X" lists should be published before the new year begins; this is what happens when you schedule a post in advance for December 30, 2016). 














14.  Acceptance After (Multiple) Rejections: It Only Takes One Yes, One Editor, One


Thanks to all my readers!  And by the way, I'm now scheduling guest posts for the first half of this year; let me know if you have an idea.