Productive? Prolific? Sign Me Up!

I am so happy to bring my first book review to the Waterworld Mermaids’ lagoon immediately after posting on the problem of Fear.  Being a writer who spends way too much time worrying about not writing, I am always hoping to find words of wisdom that might help me embrace my craft.

       The Productive Writer, by Sage Cohen, is one book in my arsenal.  Ms Cohen writes as both a business professional and a poet.  She believes, as she states early in her introduction, that productivity is a lifestyle choice.  I used this book extensively last winter, carrying it in my satchel and dipping into it for reading on my train rides to and from the Bronx each weekday morning.  I could dip into a chapter (“Transforming Your Realtionship with Time,” or “Writing in the Margins of a Full-Time Life”, among others) and meditate on ten or so pages.  Even if I only scanned the headings of part of a chapter, I felt comforted and reinvigorated, ready to face the task ahead.  Productive Writer remains at my elbow here at home most days.  After Thursday’s post and responses, I think it needs to go back in my satchel.

Last Saturday, I was the lucky winner of Hillary Rettig’s The 7 Secrets of the Prolific.  I’d just been treated to a presentation from this speaker at a CTRWA monthly meeting, and was thrilled to know that I would be taking her wisdom home with me.  Ms. Rettig writes that, yes, writers procrastinate for many reasons.  She takes time to examine perfectionism, resource constraints, time constraints, bias, internalized oppression and exploitation, just to scratch the surface.  In discussing these, she seeks to help us change our inner dialogue and unsnarl the spaghetti that keeps us blocked from fully embracing our mission to be productive. 

I know that these two books, alone, won’t make me the writer I dream of becoming.  They are tools.  But the wisdom and insight contained in each helps provide a re-dedication to my talent and goals.  Suddenly, I’m looking forward to all those train rides this winter…

 

The Productive Writer is available in print and as an ebook at both amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com

The 7 Secrets of the Prolific is available as an ebook at amazon.com. Print copies can be purchased at http://hillaryrettig.com.

Fear

Focus!

Focus!

Fear is good.  It keeps you safe.  Fear keeps you from going down the wrong street, trusting the wrong people, taking risks that are bad for you.  Fear that runs amok and takes control of your life, though, keeps you from enjoying some of the most productive and marvelous moments possible:  working on your chosen craft and enjoying the fruits of your work.

Witness my inability to contribute to the Mermaid short story effort this Fall.  I was silent, unable to compose even a scrap of an idea for that wonderful festival of creativity.  Yes, I was trapped in a web of fear, a crawling, deadly hive of poisonous fear that kept my fingers frozen for weeks that stretched into months.  Why?

Because I was silly enough to trigger a word count on my Lake Effect manuscript instead of just keeping on with the writing.   Argh!  I wasn’t going to finish by my self-imposed deadline!  I’d failed!  Again!   At which point I took refuge in endless edits of material that I wrote last year, instead of taking time to reflect and re-evaluate, to mourn and then do the brave thing:  work forward.

Even now, I get distracted by the details of my story.  Is the father alive or dead?  If I use the alternate opening for Chapter One, will it be possible to achieve the light-hearted style I’d embraced in the original?  Is there a sister or not?  And should Desmond and Nicole break up at the very start of the book, or should I shift that scene back to Chapter Ten (which remains suspiciously blank)?  Do I need to take a break and do my makeup?  Isn’t there laundry that has to be put on?  How tidy does the house need to be before the plumber arrives?  And, oh yeah, how about registering for the RWA Anaheim conference?

my life on jan 18!

You know what that is?  Uh huh.  It’s my fear, taking it out in the sneaky distractions of every day life.  I’m not going to see anyone today, I have clean clothes, the plumber already called and said he can’t be here until next week, and Anaheim isn’t sold out.  Stop making excuses, girl, and get back to work!

Do you make excuses?  I do.  Let’s share and see if we can unsnarl the distractions and excuses we make to justify not getting our work done.

 

 

The Subtraction

I am a busy person.

Yeah, yeah . . .  so are you, right?  We are all busy.  On my living-my-life list (it is so much more than just a “to do” list)  I fill many roles:   wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, band member, attorney, author, girl scout volunteer, basketball mom, mentor . . .  whew!  I really don’t know how I get it all done but, in the words of the very funny Ron White: “I’ve seen me do it!”

But, I’ve realized that while I’m trying to get it all done, there are some things I’m not doing very well.  And, really – what’s the point of that?  So, since I refuse to make resolutions, I decided to  make a change. I just didn’t know what to call it – and it seemed like something so momentous needed a name. All the biggies have a name, right?

The Apocalypse.

The Change.

Oprah.

So, I was reading the weekly newsletter from one of my favorite artists – Ali Edwards – and she was talking about subtracting things instead of adding things and it resonated with me. That is how I’ve been feeling since the New Year – what can I remove from my life to make room to experience other things more fully? I call it  . . .

The Subtraction.

Ali said it best: “Subtraction is not always about taking things away to make room for more. Sometimes it’s simply to create space. Space to breathe. Space to listen. Space to see.”

I. Love. That.

So, I’m making room to feel, see, and taste the things I really want to devote my energy towards:  family & friends, writing, art, physical fitness.  I’m getting control of things that detract from the space I am creating.  I’m scaling back on my internet time.  I’m declining requests to run things on various committees – I can serve on them and not be in charge.  I am cutting back on the amount of work I bring home.

So far, I’m seeing a great shift in my productivity and my attitude.  I’m less-stressed, I have written more words. I’m enjoying time with my family more.  I’m completing the P90X workout.  I’m scrapbooking (see some of my projects on this post).

It feels good.

Are you ready for “The Subtraction?”

Robin

I Don’t Want To!

A couple of years ago, a friend observed me saying sternly to my toddler son, “Close your eyes. It’s time to sleep now.”

“That’s what I need!” my friend exclaimed. “Someone to order me to go to sleep.” She went on to explain she often stayed up way later than she should, checking email, surfing the Internet, updating Facebook. Her life would be much healthier — and more restful — if there was someone to command her to do the right thing.

I thought of her words over the holidays, when I had the great pleasure of spending nearly two weeks in Florida with three young children — my own two kids and my nephew. We had a fantastic time, going to Disney, building sand castles, and playing in the waves. But over the course of the two weeks, I heard a few key phrases over and over again. As I repeated myself for the hundredth time, it occurred to me how much more effective our writing lives would be if we all had an authoritative figure to put an end to our whining.

1. “Are we there yet?” Well, what did we expect? We chose to drive the 18 hours to Florida with a three-year-old and a five-year-old. Of course we’re going to hear these words. But as I told my daughter, asking the question doesn’t make the miles go by any faster. Just as checking your email doesn’t make the responses come any sooner and staring at the phone doesn’t make it any more likely to ring. Sometimes, as we wait impatiently to hear news about our manuscripts, the best thing to do really is to shift our focus. Play “I Spy,” as I suggested to my daughter, or listen to some music. Or perhaps write another novel.

2. “Spicy!” This is my son’s contribution, every time he saw any food with a hint of red in it. “It is not spicy,” I would respond. “You have to try it first, before you know if you like it.” How many times have we, as writers, balked at something before we tried it? I hate first-person, we might say. Or, I can’t write sex scenes. I don’t outline. I won’t write about the sense of smell. When I first had children, I heard over and over again that a toddler must try a food at least seven times before she knows if she likes it. Now, seven times is a lot, but the point is, your preferences may grow and evolve, so don’t be too quick to reject something before you’ve given it a real chance.

3. “I want to go swimming/to the beach/to the playground now!” Sound familiar? Anybody else want to have their books published right now? As I explained to the children, some things aren’t possible right this minute. Certain steps need to be taken first. Lunch needs to be eaten, swimsuits changed into, sunscreen applied. Sometimes, we need to wait for the other people in our party to be ready. It’s hard to wait – for anything. Patience is definitely a skill that has to be learned. But instead of whining or pouting while we wait, we can speed things along by doing our part. We can study our craft, learn, and continue to improve our writing.

4. “It’s my turn!” Sometimes, it seems like everyone else gets to push the elevator button, and we wonder if we’ll ever get a turn. But you know what? The elevator button will still be there tomorrow. Just because someone pushes it today doesn’t mean it will get all used up. There are plenty of turns to go around. It’s the same with publishing. It may make us feel badly about ourselves if someone we know gets the good news we’ve been anxiously awaiting. But you know what? Our turn will come. I promise you it will. We just need to show up at the elevator (or at the page) in order to redeem it! How sad would it be if your turn is just around the corner, in the form of your next book or your next submission, but you give up before it arrives?

5. “I don’t want to!” Ah, the big one. As our kids learn at such a tender age, life is about doing things we may not feel like doing. Eating our vegetables, brushing our teeth, going to bed at a decent hour. We may not want to write a synopsis, make revisions, listen to harsh (but constructive) criticism. We may not even want to get our butts in the chair and write. But you know what? As I tell my kids, too bad. You’re going to do it, anyway. Unfortunately, no one is going to tell us what we “have” to do concerning our dreams. But if we want to achieve our goals, we need to treat our “I don’t want to’s” as “have to’s.” We have to be our own authority figures — or we can ask our APs to help us out.

What about you? Have you ever wished for an authority figure to keep your writing in line? What are your kids’ (or nieces’ or nephews’) favorite whines? Have you ever found yourself giving someone advice that could just as easily be applied to yourself?

Mandatory Mermaid Fun Lush Gift Box Winner and Happy Dr. Martin L. King Day!

Hello friends!  I personally want to thank each and every one of you who swam to the pond and joined in on the mermaid fun this weekend.  It was a real blast to play with you and I was blown away by your creativity.  Our lucky winner of the Lush “Out of this World” gift box is Anna Mackey (and her merman, Promise).

Again, thank you for spending some time with us here at Waterworld Mermaids.

Fishy Kisses and Always Love,

Mermaid Carlene ;&

Mandatory Mermaid Fun & Giveaway Day!!

Every now and then, the Army has what it calls Mandatory Fun.  Usually it’s a day when the soldiers are required to show up to work (no shamming at the house) but usually in a PT uniform and instead of doing their normal training or job, they get to play sports.  It’s Mandatory.  And it’s Fun.   Kind of like our day today here at the pond!

And…Did I mention it’s Giveaway Day???  The prize that will go to one lucky randomly picked commenter is a lovely “Out of this World” Lush gift box!  You’ll for sure want a shot at receiving this Space Girl Bath Bomb and Rock Star Soap duo in the mail!  Must live in the US and be prepared to share your physical address with me-but I promise not to swim up to your doorstep uninvited 😉

So are you ready to have a little flipper fun?  Okay, me too.  Here we go.  Today we are creating our own personal merpeople- mermaid, merman, it’s up to you but it’s Mandatory!  All you have to do is leave a comment with 1) a name for your mer-being of choice and 2) some little tidbit describing him or her!  It can be just one word or a slew of them!  That’s it.  Mandatory.  Mermaid.  Fun.  You have until midnight Sunday, January 15th, to leave your comment and I’ll announce the winner here in the comments on Monday, January 16th.

I’ll get things started…I recently spent some quality time with Triton at the Court of Neptune fountain and what can I say?  The conch-wielding magnificent man of the sea inspired me here today.  He had been busy blowing into his shell, making the most awful trumpeting sound, but something about the frizzling noise worked to calm my nerves.  Traffic had been hellacious getting into DC that day.  Seeing he had a thing for music, I asked if he could take only one record back to sea with him, what would it be?  Wouldn’t you know dear Triton has a soft spot for Elvis Presley’s Hawaiian Wedding Song?  Yes, touching.  I thought so too.  He spied a worn paperback of Seize the Night tucked protectively in my bag and inquired about it.  Shyly, I told him of my secret obsession with vampire hunting Roman bad boys, one in particular as it were.  (Mighty Poseidon bless Sherrilyn Kenyon)  The mention of this very Roman surname gave good Triton’s handsome face a sour pickle kind of scrunch but he seemed to get over it soon enough.  Alas, our noontime popular culture exchange came to an end.  But not before he let me know he was heavily upset that his fountain sat dry as a bone and had been for a few days too long.  I told him I’d look into it and he insisted I snap a picture for evidence.  He wished me well and bid me adieu in the traditional fishy kiss way.  As I slowly walked away from the fountain, a heartbreakingly beautiful merman swam into my mind, drowning out all other thoughts.  His valiant name, Elvis Mermagnus.  His hair, shiny and black.  His hands, soft as the inner petal of a rose.  His fins?  So brilliant I’d bet my last breath the color turquoise hadn’t existed until he’d been birthed.

 

What a Character

What a Character.

As writers we are taught that characters are the main ingredients in a story. Without likable flawed believable characters, the best most amazing writing in the world won’t be able to shoulder a good story.   So how do you create memorable characters? It starts with the what but ends with the why.

Suppose I tell you my character is terrified of MRIs and hates potatoes. What does that tell you? Not much. But if I throw a little “why” into the equation, maybe the person becomes more real.

Terrified of MRIs. I watch them load her onto the narrow slab of plastic. The machine begins to slowly chug her into the coffin-like confine of the apparatus doctors say is a miracle. I hear a gurgle and then a sob. I realize she’s gasping for air. I yell for them to stop the machine.   I run to her. “What’s wrong?” Her wild eyes stare past me into the horizon.   Sob filled gurgles staccato from her chest. “Help me,” she croaks but I am helpless. “Don’t let them get me,” she whispers, her fingers crushing my hand. It’s only years later, I learn her story.   They put her in a ditch and buried her. Alive. Beneath enough dirt to fill a coffin.   She couldn’t scream or cry. Had to stay deathly still. Otherwise, the soldiers would have found her. And killed her. And so she stayed there. God knows how long. And waited until someone dug her out. She was only five.

Hates potatoes. Every day after work, she got off the bus and walked 10 blocks to the dumpster. Placing her bag on the ground, she leaned forward and hoisted herself into the putrid container. She had a mission. Potato peels. Lots and lots of them. She had to collect as many as she could find. Maybe today, the other cook would be on duty. The one who wasn’t as careful with the knife. He didn’t take time to peel the thinnest layer. He left good chunks of meat together with the skin. Her hand collided with the slimy bounty. Oh good. Still fresh, she thought. She grasped as many as she could and dumped them out onto the street. Her knowing fingers gauging the thickness. A small smile played on her lips. The sloppy one was on duty tonight. When she was done, she hopped back out and put her spoils into the bag. Around the corner and up the stairs. She turned her key into the dingy door and creaked it open. Two small gaunt faces greeted her. “Tonight we eat,” she said and went into the kitchen to cook some potato peels.

My grandmother was a stoic woman. She had to be. She survived attacks on her village, Stalin’s famines and the hardships and hilarity of five people living in a 10×10 sq. ft. room. She came to a new country, only to lose her husband a few months later. She raised kids, grandkids and great-grandkids. She wasn’t a woman prone to too many smiles (who could blame her), but she had a killer sense of humor and a wit sharper and faster than a chainsaw. When asked why she never imposed curfew on my teenaged mom, she simply said, “If she wants to do something, she can just as easily do it at 4pm as she can at 4am.” When asked if she ever wanted to go back to Russia, she replied, “When we left, I packed everything I needed. Thank you for the offer.”

During the last decade of her life, dementia slowly began to eat away at her. As did her Parkinson’s. Her lucidity filtered in and out but there were still times she remembered those around her. She responded well to children. Especially babies, as if their eyes contained some magical cure that anointed all her past ills. But over time, those moments rarely came and quickly went. During her final hospital stay, when I came to visit her, she grasped my arm, her jagged nails digging into my skin and whispered, “They’re trying to kill me.” Her eyes were wild and vacant as she watched with terror or suspicion the nurse who came to get her tray. I wiped the wiry gray hair from her forehead and kissed her, whispering in return. “It’s okay grandma. You’re safe.” But her eyes darted side to side and I knew she was back in a faraway land where soldiers chased little girls, killing them and leaving them to bleed on the side of the road. We said our final goodbyes Thanksgiving weekend and even though I said no words, my pen silently did all the talking.

How often had I written her name
Most times without a care,
Never giving a second glance
How it was written or where.

But now it’s time to etch again
In front of me is her face.
I finish up the final stroke
And seal her resting place.

Sleep tight, my sweet lady.

Setting Writing Goals–With a Little Help from My Friends

As writers we are constantly looking for ways to sit our butts down and focus on our writing.  But making the time is not always easy.  With family, work, social issues and anything else that might come along–we tend to sacrifice our writing time.  I know I’m a culprit!

Though I haven’t made any New Years resolutions this year, I am trying to be pro-active with my writing.  I may not be able to sit down for 8 hours and write every day but I can dedicate some time each day to writing.

I tried to do the NaNoWriMo this past November but with a revision, two contests I was judging (for my first time) and life happening, I couldn’t find the proper time to get motivated for a 50k goal.  I felt I cheated myself this year for not doing it even though I was working on my writing–but mostly it was revising.  It didn’t count.

Then I received an email from a friend of mine about the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood Winter Writing Festival.  When I read about it I knew they understood what writing was all about!  It wasn’t about competing with others or just writing it was about setting goals for myself and working on my story anyway I could–whenever I could.  I got to set the goals I needed and earn rewards to reach them.  Also, having a cheering section of friends and fellow romance writers is always a blessing as I’ve found them the most personable people in the world.

So if you are looking for a chance to set goals for yourself this next month (during a time when things seem to be less hectic –don’t quote me on that because I’m knocking on wood) go to rubyslipperedsisterhood.com  or rsswwf.com and sign up to join in.

 

 What are your writing goals this year?

Yes, I’m a Big Fat Failure!

I don’t think I lasted more than a day with my New Year’s Resolution, but even if I had it would have bitten the dust on Sunday night.  That was the night that damn Tebow blew my Steelers’ chance in the Playoffs.

Yep.  One of my resolutions was to stop swearing.  Although I said a few whispered swear words under my breath throughout the game, I let loose a long, and—I might add—loud string of them in those brief seconds of overtime.   Very brief seconds.

Although I read that 88% of New Year’s resolutions fail, it doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.  I admit that my resolution was a bit half-assed anyway. 🙂  I couldn’t think of much that I wanted to change this year. 

I’m blessed to have wonderful friends and family.  I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I don’t particularly stress about it.  I could try harder to quit swearing, but then I’d have to stay off the roads. 

Instead of resolutions, I’d rather look at the things I’d like to accomplish and just work toward that goal.    

One of those goals is to get one of my books published.  I’m not setting an unreasonable time limit on this one though.  Just as long as I work toward it, that’s good enough for me. 

So, I’d like to share the goals that I’ve reached so far in the first ten days of the month.

  1. I’ve smiled at strangers for no apparent reason, and most of the time, I get one back.
  2. I’ve donated eight bags of clothing to charity. 
  3. I’ve spent time with my kids, playing games and trying not to swear when they beat me. 🙂
  4. I started the Harry Potter series.  Finally!
  5. I’ve renewed contact with old friends. 

I certainly don’t want to feel like a failure for the things I couldn’t do.  I’d rather feel victorious for the things that I have.   I may let some curse words slip out time and time again, but I’ll continue to smile at strangers, and hope that it makes someone’s day better. 

If that’s all I do in 2012, I’m happy with that.  🙂  

Do yourself a favor.  Set reasonable resolutions this year.  It sure makes you feel like a winner when you reach them!  I don’t look at it as copping out or lowering my standards and expectations.  I look at it as giving myself an edge.   

Give me a couple reasonable resolutions that you’ve set.  I don’t want to hear any hard ones.  That just makes me feel like a Big Fat Failure.

The Reason I’m a Writer

When I was little – maybe 7 or 8 – I learned about poetry in school. Later, sitting at the counter in my Nunnie’s (grandmother) kitchen, I told her that I was going to write a poem about her. I don’t remember much about that poem. I know it was indeed about my Nunnie and that I wrote it very quickly. And I’m fairly certain I rhymed the words pink and think.  

But the big thing about this moment in my young life is that Nunnie took one look at that poem and declared that I was a writer. She thought it was truly an amazing feat of literary proportions. Think James Joyce meets Jane Austen.

Nunnie called my mom and my two aunts and informed my entire family that I was a writer. That was it. Based on this little poem, I had the talent of writing. So I always believed it too. After all, Nunnie said it was true, so it must be. In fact, this belief in my ability as a writer is the one and only thing in my life that I have never questioned. (Even during my darkest Debbie Downer-I just got rejected moments.)

Nunnie passed away on Christmas morning at the age of 97.

I’m at an interesting place. Obviously, I have a lot of feelings and memories and emotions swirling around right now. But in terms of writing, this crazy talent I apparently have because Nunnie said so, makes my path seem clearer than ever. Nunnie never got to see a published book with my name on the cover. I think I might always regret that.

So I am now moving forward with my writing. I have a finished manuscript and I am putting all of my effort into getting it published. Because Nunnie was right: I am a writer!