Friday Fridge Clean-Out: Links for Writers -- January 20, 2017 Edition

> Most writers like to know how other writers get it done. Emma Donoghue (author of Room and other works), offers excellent insight in a Guardian piece, including time management, allowing herself to write badly, and more. 

> Like podcasts? A batch of new episodes of Exactly are available, with host/originator Kelly Corrigan interviewing Mary Roach, Nicholas Kristof, Margaret Atwood, and others.

> Devotee of Edgar Allen Poe? For his 208th birthday, Electric Literature gathered up audio of five (living and dead)  celebrities reading The Raven.

> I mentioned last week a Resolve to Write event I led with local writers. One of them, a write-at-home, mom-of-a-toddler, summed up how it's going as she tries on some new writing-day organizing advice.

> If you haven't yet visited the blog of novelist Caroline Leavitt, do it! She features many many interviews with authors, and always asks unique questions.

> At the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, contemplating the purpose of a columnist today.

> Ever wonder, what writers think about questions students are asked to answer about their literary works? Poet Sara Holbrook wrote this funny/not funny account: "I Can’t Answer These Texas Standardized Test Questions About My Own Poems."

Have a great weekend!

Image: Flickr/CreativeCommons - Felipe Sasso

Friday Fridge Clean-Out: Links for Writers -- June 17, 2016 Edition

> Joshua Becker, at the Minimalist advises, "Accomplish More with a 3-item To Do List." My comment at that post: I have been doing this for years. Didn’t know it was a real thing. I just call it my 1-2-3 Rule. Long to do lists are overwhelming. But who can’t do 3 things?  (And there -- you've just gotten one of my *secret* coaching tips.)

> Read and weep (a little - in the spirit of what my father sometimes said: Beware what you wish for - you might just get it.) "Lisa33 and Me -- The Harrowing True Story of a Six-Figure Advance," at Rottingpost.

> One of my bigger editing pet peeves: dialogue tags other than said or asked.  (Okay, very occasionally I can see the need for something like whispered which usually can't be communicated via the dialogue itself. Then again, I'd probably opt for action, if appropriate, like...he leaned close to her ear and...). My writer pal Linda Sienkiewicz weighs in with "Nancy Pontificated."

> The Wall Street Journal reports that HarperCollins launched a Facebook Live initiative, featuring live video with authors interacting with readers on HC's FB page daily (and also on the individual authors' FB pages).

> At Book Riot, Kelly Jensen with "33 Ways to Have a More Bookish Summer." Why not? (hat tip Buddhapuss Ink)

> Writer Beware examines the BookLife Prize in Fiction.

>Love food and literature, and are local to New York's Hudson Valley? Check out Read and Feed on July 30. Details: "Basilica Hudson, in partnership with CLMP, the Community of Literary Magazines and Presses, announce READ & FEED, the launching of a projected annual event bringing together artisanal makers of food with artisanal makers of literature." Tickets here.

> At Writer Unboxed, Donald Maass asks (and does a pretty good job of answering) 

"What Makes Fiction Literary: Scenes Versus Postcards." Be sure to check out the many good comments too.

> Finally, if you have not done so yet, do read Maggie Smith's excellent poem "Good Bones" at Waxwing Magazine. It's rare for a contemporary poem to "go viral" but apparently that's what has happened this week. Read it and, if you're paying even sideways attention to U.S. and world news lately and are weary and disheartened, you'll know why it's struck such a universal chord.

Have a great weekend!

Image: Flickr/CreativeCommons -FaceMePls

Back to the Summit: In Conversation About Making a Writing Life

In January of this year, along with two dozen others, I participated in the Storytellers Summit, a limited time, online interview series presented by Julia Roberts, coach and creativity expert at Decoding Creativity. 

While the window for listening to all the 30-minute interviews has since closed, I'm pleased to bring you a link to my interview,  about "The Writing Life," which focused primarily on creating a workable, satisfying writing life amid the conflicting demands and time constraints of an already full life. (Warning -- I say this a lot: If you are going to write, you are going to not do something else.)

Along the way, Julia and I also touched on freelance writing, craft, revision, writing what you know, and productivity. If you have an opportunity to listen, I hope that you hear at least one thing that will help you. (And if you're interested in other interviews, the full Summit is available for purchase.)

Audio interview music by BenSound. Image: Flickr/Creative Commons - Il Microfono.

Of Tennis and Reading: Love

My son wants to join the tennis team this spring, so to get back in shape, he's signed on for a series of weekly two-hour evening lessons. And I cannot wait, because at the huge tennis bubble, there is lousy cell reception, and from what I can deduce, no wifi.

I found out for myself, the minute he went through from the viewing area to the courts and I pulled out my phone to let my husband know where we were. I soon noticed: no one on phones--not bored parents, not teenagers awaiting rides or their turn on the courts, not younger kids hanging about while siblings swung rackets, not employees. Even the television was on a low volume.

Bliss.

That was last week, and I was grateful to pass the time mostly talking with another mom, something that doesn't happen so often beyond the middle school years. I wandered around the building a bit, but there's nothing much to explore -- a small tennis shop, a gym surprisingly empty and quiet, a closed hair salon.

This week, I have something else in mind: I'm going to read. Maybe for two hours. And no one will email, ding, ring, tweet, or message me. Well, they might, but I won't know; not unless I make the long walk back to the dark, cold parking lot – and I'm not that much in love with technology.

I might write some too, given as I always have a notebook in my purse, but I've been craving a long reading stretch, somewhere away from the background buzz of undone household chores, unedited client pages, to-be-commented-on student papers—and the cooking and laundry (always the cooking and laundry!). I remember having these almost enforced unfilled time blocks more frequently when my sons were younger and there was more time spent on sports fields and car pool lines, in church basements, indoor soccer bubbles, and waiting areas. Now, they are hard to come by naturally, harder still to schedule.

I'm not sure yet what I'll bring besides a few unread sections of the print Sunday New York Times, though the choices are plentiful. On my desk are a poetry collection and an ARC of a memoir, both to be read in advance of interviewing the authors (sounds like work but mostly pure pleasure), an anthology of short essays I've been dipping into, a novella I've been meaning to reread, and fat new novel, beckoning.

The best part is that the lessons will go on for weeks and start just early enough in the evening that my husband won't be home yet, so I'll be chauffeuring. Now, let's hope no one at the tennis center decides it will be a good idea to rectify the signal "problem".

Photo by HoriaVarlan/Flckr Creative Commons

Getting Out of Our Own (Writer's) Way

You can read a guest post from me today, titled "Writers! Get Out of Your Own Way" over at Sheila Boneham's blog, Write Here! Write Now!, in which I get a bit ruthless about the "obstacles" writers claim keep them from writing.  Kind of like what I do in Boot Camp.

The post lays out 14 tough-love tips. Here's an excerpt:

• Now, look at the list of REAL obstacles. Choose which one to tackle first, then second. Be methodical. Creative. A little ruthless. Hire the dog walker. Sleep a little less. Shame your lazy sister into sharing some of Mom's doctor visits.
• Find someone to hold you accountable. Another writer or someone who respects the time spent writing. Someone who will – just before you said you were going to finish X – send an email or pick up the phone and say: "I'm holding you to it. Is X done?"  It helps if this  is someone you would feel terrible about disappointing. Someone whose opinion you value, who you want to be proud of you.
• Like the characters in your stories, the words on your page, YOU can change, edit, revise your life to make room for writing. The question is: Are you willing to make changes that others may not like?
• Be a grown up. Stop whining. Stop talking to other writers (and emailing, texting, tweeting, posting to Facebook) about the reasons you can't seem to get the writing done or the writing you did do or the writing you hope to do. Just shut up already – full stop. Use that time and energy to write.

The full post is here. 

Writing Steps and Lists

I doubt I've ever met a list I didn't like. Because really, is there any greater small pleasure in a busy, often frustrating day than crossing things off a list? (Aside from dark chocolate, that is.)

I'll even admit that sometimes – on the most challenging days, or the ones when it feels like I'm getting nothing done – that I have even, after completing something I didn't think I had the time for, put it ON the list just so I could cross it off. (Please, if you are a therapist, refrain from analyzing that behavior!).

You get the idea.

Lists are, I think, a huge help to a writer. And so is breaking big writing projects down into steps that can be individually slotted onto a to-do list. Because what good is a list that only reminds you of the big project, the one with a far-off deadline, the project that may seem overwhelming?

Among other projects, I am working on a essay which I would like to finish in time for a journal's themed submission deadline of March 30, and I know I need to make steady progress on it week by week. But if on my list for this week (and next and the next) it said: Finish X essay, or even Work on X essay, I know I'd look at that item on the list and groan.

In the parlance of Boot Camp, it's too big, too formless, too long-range an action item without any interim goals that are specific and measurable.

However, if I break the project down into steps AND I portion out those steps in sensible increments on the to-do list for today, this week, this month, then I can get my head around it. Now, the steps and the lists are helpful, not intimidating or guilt-inducing.

So, I might write, in relation to that essay: -Revise pages 2-5. -Rewrite the first hospital scene. -Check spelling of medical terms.-Read entire essay aloud. -Re-read my journals from the time period. -Do some research on X disease. -Ask B (a doctor friend) to read/critique next draft. -Play with titles. -Try the middle section in present tense.

By doing this, I break the work down into steps (less daunting), give myself more an idea of how much work needs to be done (important because I've been known to underestimate), and lets me cross (more!) things off my list.

I have a master long-range list on a computer doc, and then use a combination of a whiteboard (monthly, noting big projects), a legal pad (weekly, noting rough break-out steps), and oversize sticky notes (daily, listing specific incremental steps).

Others I know use different systems to create, interact with, and cross things off lists -- bulletin board, whiteboard, sticky note, legal pad, smartphone app, computer doc, back of junk mail, digital calendar, email reminder program – you name it.

The only rule I can think of is, once you make a list – use it.

Write blog post.

Stuff My Writing Students Say – Part 14

Here's one I hear rather often: 

"You're so lucky – you get to write any time you want. I have to squeeze it in between work and kids and everything else. I wish I could sit home all day and write."

I have no idea who this person is talking to, because it certainly can't be directed at me. Oh but it is. Writers I work with think that because I work at home (most of the time), and/or because I am immersed in working with writers and with the written word, that I can spend hours each day on my own creative writing work.

I wish.

For me, like for most people, most of every weekday (and some Saturdays too) are spent on making a living. It just happens that I do this around writing -- teaching writing (and planning lessons, assignments, reading materials), coaching writers, providing feedback on student writing, editing book manuscripts, editing for a regional website, editing essays and short stories for a magazine, writing book reviews and freelance feature articles. Even the reading I need to do to for all of the above is done mostly outside of regular working hours – the books to review and, next month, the books that will arrive for a contest I'm judging.

This leaves me – like oh, a zillion other writers I know – with the late night and early morning hours, the occasional full weekend day, the stolen coffee shop hour, the occasional light workload day (when I'm busy worrying about finding more work) to spend on my own creative writing work:  personal essays and the memoir manuscript, poems and short stories; even submissions. I too write while parenting and amid other obligations.

So, how to get it done?

I can go on and on about time management and routines and discipline. I could talk about being a night owl (and when I need to, an early riser). But here's the one thing I know for sure:  One of the key reasons I get things done is because I say I will AND I say it to the right person, at the right time.

Usually, I tell my friend Deborah, also known as my accountability buddy and the "Chairman of my Board of Directors" – that I will get X written by Y date (usually the next time we meet for breakfast a month later). And then I get it done. Because I said so.

In December, I told her I wanted to get something written that had been nagging at me for a year. We set two interim check-in dates (also known as her sending me pestering emails and texts). We put our January breakfast on the calendar (we've been meeting once a month for more years than either of us care to admit). And then, I did it. I got up two hours earlier every morning for about 16 days (and you know how I hate to do that), and positioned myself at the keyboard from 6:15 to 8:15.

So, to the student above who thinks the secret to being a more productive writer is in working at home, or in working within the writing world – I can only say: it's not.

There is no secret, no luck. Or if there is luck involved, then you are just as "lucky" as me, because you too have the ability to get up earlier, stay up later, ditch the volunteer committee, get someone else to empty the dishwasher. You too can write in the fringes – and make those hours a little emptier, a little longer.

To get my recent writing project done, something had to go -- in this case, sleep. If you are occupied most of the time with work, kids, eldercare, or other obligations, and you are going to write, you are going to NOT do something else. I'm not the first to say that. And neither was Anne Lamott, though she said it so well. But it will always be true.

Do I on occasion work on my own writing in the middle of the day when I should be working on something that's attached to a paycheck?  Of course. Do millions of people occasionally shop online during the day when they should be working? Of course. And like them, I get the paid work done later – after dinner, instead of eating lunch, on Saturday morning.

Everyone who writes can figure out how to get lucky in that way.

You can read the rest of the Stuff My Writing Students Say series here.

Guest Blogger Liz Sheffield on Banishing the Inner Editor with NaNoWriMo

Liz Sheffield has been a writing student and editing client of mine over the last few years. She is a blogger and freelance writer focused on the topics of parenting, wellness and leadership.  Her essays, articles and short fiction have been published in national and regional publications, including Brain, Child and Family Fun. Until recently, Liz spent more than 11 years writing, editing and designing training materials for Starbucks. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two young sons.

Please welcome Liz Sheffield

This year, when I asked the young writers in the early weeks of my National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) workshop to tell me what their inner editors say, the kids (ages 8 to 11) didn’t hesitate to respond:

“You suck.”

“That’s no good.”

“You can’t spell.”

Ouch! Our inner editors develop at such a young age.

These fifteen students are part of the afterschool NaNoWriMo workshop I’m teaching at my son’s elementary school. A few years ago, the Office of Letters and Light (OLL) – the group that oversees NaNoWriMo for adults – created the Young Writers Program as well as a NaNoWriMo curriculum for kids and youth. It’s the same concept (write a novel in a month) but with a word count goal that is reasonable for each young writer.

September and October are all about training. In our weekly lessons, we discuss topics such as the inner editor, main characters, plot and setting . The goal is that by November 1, these students will be able to write their novels in 30 days. In order to succeed, I know from personal experience, the first step is to get their inner editors out of the way.

“Next, we’re going to draw these inner editors,” I continue after hearing the feedback from my students’ inner editors.

Villains wielding swords, with scowling faces, missing teeth and furrowed brows evolved on the blank pages of the kids’ workbooks.

“Now it’s time for these inner editors to take a hike,” I told my students.

I walked around the room with a shoe box covered in bronze-colored paper. After the last editor was in the box, I closed the lid and wrapped metallic string around and around the box to lock it.

“Is that barbed wire?” a sixth grader asked, incredulous.

“Yes. Star-studded barbed wire.”

The box rattled in my hands. I could hardly contain the energy inside the bronze-covered shoe box.

“These editors are desperate to get out,” I warned, “but if we want to write a novel in thirty days, we can’t let them out until December 1.”

Some of the younger students looked worried. (Okay, so maybe the shaking box was a little bit much.)

“Are we going to let these inner editors out of the box?” I asked.

“No way!” the kids hollered, a few boys adding an air-punch for emphasis.

If keeping their inner editors in the box is the one thing my students learn through this NaNoWriMo experience, I’ll be thrilled.  

And, they’ll be decades ahead of me.

I have a powerful, demanding and often hope-dashing inner editor who has played a leading role in my writing life: You’re going to use that word? Who will want to read this? You can’t write. You don’t have an MFA. You’re not old enough. Wait, you’re too old, it’s too late. You don’t have time.

I’ve heard this voice for years, but it wasn’t until I took the NaNoWriMo challenge myself in November 2010 that I understood the power my inner editor had over my creative process.

My sons were age two and six, I was working full-time in a corporate cube and commuting an hour each way. Since college, I’d been too busy (drinking beer, teaching ESL in Japan, romancing with my future husband) to write. Skeptics, including my inner editor, told me I had no business taking on the challenge of writing a novel, much less attempting to write one in thirty days.

I signed up anyway. And I wrote 50,064 words in 30 days.

“How did you do it?” everyone asked after I came out of the NaNoWriMo fog.

The answer was simple: I told my inner editor to take a hike.

During NaNoWriMo, I gave myself permission to write a less-than-perfect novel. I ignored the thoughts that I had to come up with the “perfect” first sentence, find the “perfect” time to write, or labor late into the night, attempting to format a document so that it was “just right”.

With thirty days of practice, I gained confidence. My inner editor got quiet.

"Don’t look at this early stage for every sentence to be perfect—that will come. Don’t expect every description to be spot-on. That will come too. This is an opportunity to experiment. It’s your giant blotter. An empty slate, ready to be filled."

These encouraging words in Jasper Fforde’s pep talk to participants in the 2010 NaNoWriMo rang true. Having sent my inner editor on a hike, day by day, word by word, I was able to fill the empty slate.

My creative self took over. I added a hospital to the setting. My protagonist befriended a homeless teen. The plot twisted and turned in ways that my inner editor would have avoided (and admonished) but which I welcomed. I finished on November 30 with a novel that wasn’t perfect, but that had a beginning, a middle and an end. A year after I finished NaNoWriMo, I read what I’d written. While there are revisions to be made, I can say that I like what I wrote. (Take that, inner editor!)

As my students prepare for their NaNoWriMo adventures, I hope that locking their inner editors away in that shoe box will bring them the same sense of freedom; that they will embrace the time for creativity.

Most creative folks will agree that keeping the inner editor at bay is difficult. In fact, since I banished mine two years ago during NaNoWriMo, I’ve noticed my inner editor creeping back into my writing world.

But I’ve had enough. I make my way to the garage in search of the box covered in star-studded barbed wire. There’s got to be enough room for one more inner editor in the shoe box in the garage: mine.

Note from Lisa: NaNoWriMo begins on November 1. You needn't write a novel during the 30 days; it's also a great way to generate around 50,000 words towards any manuscript or writing project, keep track of your progress, and commit to a regular writing practice. For the math-challenged, 50K words in a month works out to about 1,670 words per day.

What about the advice that writers must write every day? I say, no. And, maybe. And sometimes, yes.

There is so much cookie-cutter advice about writing, and in particular, about the importance of regular writing routines, that I often wonder how less experienced writers, newer writers, writers with day jobs, or writers have a more well-developed worry-meter than I, ever get through a day without being convinced they are doing everything all wrong.

Don't get me wrong: I am a big believer in an established writing routine, in writing regularly, in integrating writing into the rest of one's life so fully that being awake and writing more or less co-exist.

But to my mind the most detrimental piece of standard writing advice is the one that declares that in order to be a *real* writer (whatever that is), one must write every single day, often amended to include that one must write a set number of pages or words, or a set amount of time per day.

Look, there are times when I do just exactly this, namely when I have something due on a certain date and know I will need to steadily produce in measured increments so I will not go entirely crazy with anxiety over whether or not I will finish on time. 

But in general, I don't hold myself to an arbitrary write-every-single-day-or-else standard.  And neither do dozens of other writers I know, even those who have published many books, churn out essays by the boatload, poems by the hundreds.  Like them, depending on a number of factors – deadlines, research needs, other pressing projects or jobs (paid and not), family obligations, health -- there are periods when I do write every day and then there are times when I do not. There are even times when  – horrors! -- I don't write a blessed thing for a week. Or two. Or more. During that time, do I forget how to write?  Get kicked out of the Writing Club? Drop every writing idea I ever had?  Become someone who is not a *real* writer?

Of course not.

Typically during that time, I am still a real writer. How do I know? I know because I see myself doing other things that support and nurture me as a writer, sometimes intentionally, sometimes without even meaning to.  I read. I make lists of writing ideas. I connect with other writers. I read. I contemplate what has accumulated in my writer's notebook. I seek writing assignments and jobs. I read. I teach/mentor others. I study writing-related stuff – song lyrics, for example. I read. I edit manuscripts. I do research for things I plan to write, or am in the middle of writing.  Maybe I watch films, go to a museum, but mostly I read a lot.  Did I mention I read?

Maybe I'm in a not-writing phase because I'm mentally exhausted after finishing a big project. Maybe I'm physically worn out, battling a cold or aches and pain. Maybe someone in my family needs me, maybe even for days or weeks at a time, which cuts into, or possibly eliminates writing time. Life happens, and being present in life sometimes requires that we don't write (at least not in notebooks or on screen); in the words of one of my mentors, poet/memoirist/MFA professor Richard Hoffman:  "Life first, writing second."

The point is, I'm not a slave to some one-size-fits-all routine, and despite what you may have heard or assumed, neither are hundreds of other writers far more successful than I. And you don't have to be either. 

What you do need to do is find a routine that suits YOU.

If you are NOT writing at all but want to be, if you are the type to squirm out of routines, if you have an ambitious writing goal and/or firm deadline (real or self-imposed), if you have gobs of flexibility in your schedule -- do I think a commitment to daily writing is a good way to get and stay on track? YES. YES. Of course, YES.

Yet that may not be practical given your life situation. Further, I think that holding everyone to some arbitrary standard of needing to write every day only fosters anxiety and guilt. If you think you must write every day, but you cannot actually do so, then you will only end up feeling guilty the next time you actually do sit to write. Who needs that?  Who wants to begin a writing session feeling as if there is so much lost ground to make up, you are already losing?

Who needs to write every day?  Only someone who feels they can, who wants to, who needs to (for deadline or other reasons), and for whom that kind of schedule is workable, enjoyable, nurturing, and possible.  

Everyone else needs another routine instead, one that works for that writer alone. 

Does writing every day help?  Of course. Writing is a mental muscular activity and one does strengthen it by frequent use. So writing every day is good. But so is writing every other day. Or three days a week. Or for six days in a row and then four days off.  Or… It depends on your circumstances, goals, abilities, and especially time constraints and life situation.

Does that mean, hey, since you've got a tough schedule it's okay to write for 10 minutes on alternate Sunday mornings and call that a routine that fits, and assume you will properly develop as a writer?

No !

The idea is to develop an individualized writing routine that works for YOU – that supports YOUR life situation, YOUR writing goals, YOUR capabilities and skill level, YOUR desires.

Tomorrow, I will post what I consider to be the 10 most important criteria for creating a writing routine that works for you.

The above is adapted from Week One of *I Should Be Writing!* Boot Camp:Reclaim Your Writing Life.

Guest Blogger Kate Hopper on Claiming the Title “Writer”

Last time I was stuck in Minneapolis airport, I spent a desultory five hours doing what one does: having no fun. Next time, I think I'll call Kate Hopper and ask to hang out with her for a few hours. We'll have a lot to talk about – writing, motherhood, teaching writing, and the intersection of all that and more. Kate is a fellow contributor to the anthology Women Writing on Family: Tips on Writing, Teaching, and Publishing, and this is the third in a series of guest posts from some of the book's contributors.


Please welcome Kate Hopper. 


How many years were you writing before you could say “I’m a writer” and really believe it?  


I didn’t call myself a “real writer” until after my daughter, Stella, was born in 2003, even though I had been writing for a few years and was just beginning my third year of the MFA program at the University of Minnesota. Clearly I was writing, but I still felt uncomfortable claiming the title “writer.” 


Then I developed severe preeclampsia and Stella was born two months early. She spent a month in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) and the two of us spent the following long Minnesota winter months at home. I withdrew from graduate school, and spent my days walking my fragile and very fussy infant around the dining room table. 

For the first time in my life, I was desperate for words. I craved stories that revealed something other than the rosy versions of motherhood so often perpetuated in our society. I wanted to know that the exhaustion and despair I felt some days did not make me a bad mother. But I didn’t find much out there that validated the complicated emotions I was experiencing as a new mother. 

So when Stella was five months old, I left her bundled in her daddy’s arms, and went to the coffee shop near our house and pulled out paper and a pen.  The images of her—writhing on white blankets, beamed from the NICU into the television set in my hospital room—came spilling out, and after an hour, words covered the page. For the first time since she was born, I felt grounded, and the world felt a little bigger. After that, when I had a free hour, I wrote for an hour. 


I started calling myself a “writer.”


And an interesting thing happened: When I began to believe in myself as a writer, I started to carve out more time to actually write, I took myself more seriously, and I began to write more than I’d ever written before. I no longer waited for inspiration, no longer spent hours rearranging the spice cupboard instead of tapping away at the keyboard. Part of this certainly had to do with the fact that as a new mother I had very limited writing time, and I wasn’t about to squander it making sure that the cumin was next to the coriander. (Who needs coriander anyway?) 


In calling myself a writer, I also learned to see my writing as work, which helped me value the time I spent at my computer. I discuss the need to view your writing as work in my Women Writing on Family essay, “It’s Not a Hobby.” 


If you were starting a career in business administration, it wouldn’t be unusual to have one or two (or more) internships before you landed your first “real” job. These months, though often unpaid, are invaluable, helping you learn the ropes of the business world. The same goes for your writing. You need time and space—and many months—to make headway with your writing, to learn the craft of your trade. If you’re not making money from your writing yet, think of it as a long-term unpaid internship. 


Once you reframe your writing as work—whether you’re working on a paid freelance article or a short story that’s unlikely to ever make you a cent—you will be more likely to treat your writing as work. Set a schedule that’s realistic, and on those days, show up to the office or dining room table or coffee shop and log in your hours. (This may be only once a week or even once every two weeks. Don’t set yourself up for failure by planning to write every day if that’s not feasible.) 


And if you don’t already, start calling yourself a writer. (Buy an “I’m a writer” a pin and wear it proudly if that helps!)


Kate Hopper’s first book, Use Your Words: A Writing Guide for Mothers, has just been released from Viva Editions. Kate teaches writing online and at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis, where she lives with her family. She blogs at Motherhood and Words.


To read more on this blog from Women Writing on Family contributors, click here.

This or that? Now or then? More or less? Yes. No. Maybe.

Four times now over the last few weeks, I've had phone, online and in-person conversations with writer friends, all dancing with the same questions: Start a blog, or not? Develop a group blog with a few other writers, or go it alone? Forget about blogging, concentrate on the book manuscript and/or publishing more short pieces? Submit the manuscript direct to contests and small presses, or try other agents? Go to an upcoming writing symposium, or use the funds to hire an editor, and/or the time to get more revisions done? Spend time researching additional publication venues, or get busy submitting and research more later? Teach, or not?

Write today, or go to Target instead? And maybe swing by Dunkin Donuts too?

In other words, all of the same questions writers everywhere ask themselves –torture themselves with?—each and every day. Let me be clear: No one was coming to me for "answers". And good thing; I don't have any. We were simply picking one another's brains.

A few things stood out. A group blog sounded like a wonderful way to spread out the work, and fun, of maintaining something as insatiably hungry as a blog; or it's a way to avoid building a personal online presence. One writer's attendance at a conference is considered to be an "investment" in his craft; for another writer, it's classic procrastination M.O. Contest deadlines can represent thrilling opportunity, or intimidation-inducing paralysis.

Finally, all we could conclude was that there is no "right" time to do, or not do, any of these things, only what feels right at the time, or what makes sense in the larger context of the writer's life and goals, time constraints and interests.

Which either means we are all, always, back at square one, and – or? -- that there is a lot (maybe too much) freedom in this thing we call a writer's life. Decisions, decisions. More of this? Less of that? Now? Later? Maybe? Ever? Never?

Obviously, I waver on some, no make that all of the many dizzying options and possible paths. Readers of this blog know that sometimes I'm here several times a week for weeks in a row, and then I go missing for a week, a month, more. Sometimes it's a conscious decision (if I am working to meet a client or editorial deadline, say), and sometimes I simply feel that it's the right time to be putting all of my writing energies elsewhere.

I don't claim to know the right, best or most intelligent way to apportion writing time and energies across all of the activities I mentioned above – blogging, submissions, revisions, new drafts, research, contests, teaching-- only that it's necessary to engage, every day, in the activity of trying to sort it out. Some days, doing what feels right at the time. Other days, doing what needs to be done because I've agreed to deadlines, signed a contract, accepted students, made promises to clients, editors, publishers.

In the meantime, in the background, I have been mulling over something I heard. A writing acquaintance told me he quit nearly all online activities for a year because, "The blog ate the book (manuscript), and then Twitter ate the blog." Interesting. And not necessarily in a good way. I take what he said seriously. And yet I also know that I'm the kind of person (kind of writer?) who usually gets more done when I have more to get done.

Meanwhile.

Over the past week or two, the four writer friends with whom I talked about these pesky time-and-energy-apportioning questions have made some decisions, put off some decisions, decided to not decide on other issues.

Me too.

So I'll be here, but sometimes not, because I'll also be researching, writing, teaching, submitting, editing, revising. Deciding, every day.

Writer's Guide to More Writing Time. You may not like it.

In the past few months, I have advised several writers with whom I'm working as a writing coach to lie, to cheat and to steal. Oh, we've also talked about other things – developing a submission tracking spreadsheet, choosing a writing conference, preparing critiques for an upcoming workshop, trying new structure ideas for a memoir.

Yet, some of the most interesting conversations have focused on treachery – the questionable things we are sometimes forced to do, in order to have the time to write. While it would be just dandy if into every writer's daily life, some sizable chunk of uninterrupted time were to magically appear, free of day job tasks, child rearing, commuting, household duties, pet care, spousal maintenance and meal preparation.

But since that's a fantasy, most writers need to instead wrestle time for their writing. When one has exhausted strategies for squeezing more time from the same 24 hours – getting up earlier, writing during the (public transit) commute or on lunch hours – it's time to get serious about getting a little bit (or maybe a lot) more cunning. Even deceitful.

When my first son was an infant, I had access to free daytime child care but only if it was for an "important reason," which I quickly understood to be exactly two things: bonafide paid work or a medical appointment. A walk in the park or a haircut to refresh my colic-baby brain and remind myself I was still human? Nope. Lunch and adult conversation with a friend? Not a chance. Writing creative work which had no sure market value? Are you daft?

So I lied.

I didn't go to the dentist. I went to my writing group.

I cheated.

I said I had to work for 4 hours, knowing the brochure I was finishing for a client would take only two hours.

I stole.

I did paid work late at night for two solid weeks and used the daytime child care time for my own writing instead.

Lately I find myself advising others to take similarly drastic action. Why?

Because otherwise no writing will occur. Because significant others who say they want to be "supportive" -- aren't. Because children who are old enough to make their own meals -- don't. Because bosses keep making unreasonable (and uncompensated) "requests" for ever more time. Because house guests keep wanting to arrive, or stay. Because the volunteer committee to whom one has always said "yes" just won't hear "no". Because a relative thinks writing falls into the same category as watching reality TV in the middle of the day.

Because in some homes a closed door, a person hunched over the keyboard writing (and not on Facebook), and/or a request for "some writing time" is the same as announcing to those within earshot (and everyone else who has your phone number or address): "Please interrupt me as often as possible for the most mundane, trivial reasons and then after I answer your silly question, by all means, please keep hanging around."

So toss your gym bag in the car, but head to the cafe next to the gym to write instead. Keep the sitter an extra hour (or two). Leave for that appointment 30 minutes early (traffic, you know?). Send the spouse and kids out so you can "rest."

Lie. Cheat. Steal. Get your writing time.

Time and the Writer; Time and the Writing Project: Slicing the slices of the pie

"How much time do you spend writing?"

It seemed such an innocent question, posed by a well-meaning relative who had no idea the worms she'd just unleashed. Whenever I hear it I cringe because I always think it's a trick question. A non-writer usually wants to puzzle out if writing really is work at all, and if the question comes from another writer, I worry that whatever I say will be wrong.

But lately I've been asking it of myself, in a slightly different form:

How much time should I spend writing X vs. Y?

I've been wondering whether I’m spending the right amount of time on each part of my writing life (and this doesn't even include time spent teaching, editing, coaching or consulting). That is, am I apportioning the proper amounts of writing time to: personal essays and freelance articles for well-paying commercial media vs. memoir pieces and essays for (non- or low-paying) literary outlets vs. the memoir-in-progress manuscript vs. book reviews vs. paid blog posts vs. a nonfiction book proposal.….and more to the point, do I drop one or more of the above in order to focus more keenly on one of the others, or…well, you can see how this kind of ruminating can quickly lead to a desire to pitch it all for a job at Payless (no, not Starbucks even with their part-timer benefits; I love shoes, not coffee).

I'm not one for firm resolutions when it comes to creative endeavors, although I do try to set annual goals and projections in terms of income, education, growth. This year, I did make one resolution in terms of writing however, and that was to write more of what I truly want to write, especially (and maybe exactly) the things I'm often worried others will find off-putting, unusual, out-of-character. I want to shake things up a bit, not be so pleasing and acceptable and reliable on the page. Accomplishing that – overturning the nice, steady, not-at-all-provocative stance I gravitate towards, in favor of – what? – probably will take more time. Time taken from where?

I haven't got this figured out, of course, and I don't expect to have one of those neat epiphanies some writers experience, which transforms their writing life in one quick swoop, after which they know exactly how to dice up their time writing, and do.

I keep working through this daily and although I tend to glibly say, "Oh I just keep juggling!" what this really amounts to is that on many days what I prioritize is more intuitive than planned. But lately that sort of juggle/feel-my-way-through approach feels like shaky ground. I find myself wanting a more deliberate game plan (or should that be game clock?).

Mind you, I never miss deadlines and this isn't about discipline; I've been working at home for 19 years and can kick my own butt quite well; the question is kick it toward what? As an editor and writing coach, I'm skilled at outlining for others just what needs to be done and why. But note: …for others.

I'd love to know how different writers work out slicing up their writing pie. I don't mean how to fit in and prioritize writing within a fuller working life, but how, within the slice that already says "writing," do you make distinctions between which writing projects to push ahead with, and which to put aside for a while? Choose one major project (the book manuscript) and get it done above all else? Keep going on all fronts because the unpredictable economy suggests maintaining flexibility? Write what you love and hope everything else follows?

Readers, thoughts?