All posts by Pintip

An Accountability Partner

mermaids, Motivation,

In the course of your writing lives, I’m sure you have had a critique partner or participated in a critique group. But have you ever had an accountability partner?

Before this past August, I hadn’t. In fact, I hadn’t even heard of the concept before. (Okay, so the term, “accountability partner,” I made up. If there is a more official or creative name floating around, do let me know!)

Three months ago, fellow mermaid Kerri and I fell into an accountability relationship, and it has changed the course of my writing life. Here’s how it works:

— At the beginning of each week, Kerri and I each set a goal for the week. The goals do not have to be the same, but it’s always fun when they are. They range from word count goals (such as 1.5K words a day or once, when we were feeling really motivated, 10K words for the week) to revision goals (such as 2 chapters a day or 50 pages for the week) to task-specific goals (such as writing a synopsis or a short story).

— After setting our goals, Kerri and I email each other every day to report our progress (and celebrate and commiserate and give each other pep talks). This step is vitally important. Not only does it keep you on task, but it also motivates your partner. And really, who in your non-writing life will cheer when you say you’ve written 1709 words that day? It’s these small bits of encouragement that keep me going.

— Finally, at the end of the week, after we have met our goals (which we do about half of the time), we reward ourselves lavishly. The rewards have ranged from a pedicure to a margarita to a cupcake to a mojito to popcorn and movies to dinner out to running shoes to tall black boots, depending on the size of the accomplishment. (The last two were Kerri’s and my rewards, respectively, for finishing our novels.)

In the last three months, our productivity has shot through the roof. (Well, maybe I should speak for myself. Perhaps Kerri is always this productive, super-mermaid that she is.) We have both finished our WIPs, revised (or are in the process of revising), and written query letters and synopses. To top it off, Kerri also wrote her charming garden story during this time!

Now that I’ve discovered an accountability partner (thank you, Kerri-mermaid!), I can’t imagine writing another novel without one. What about you? Have you ever had an accountability partner and how did the relationship work? Please share. I’d love to hear about your experiences!

Synchronicity?

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As you may know, I’m a big fan of Julia Cameron’s book, THE ARTIST’S WAY (10th edition, 2002). In it, she discusses the concept of “synchronicity”: “we change and the universe furthers and expands that change.” (2). More specifically, “when we move out on faith into the act of creation, the universe is able to advance. It is a little like opening the gate at the top of a field irrigation system. Once we remove the blocks, the flow moves in.” (2).

Cameron doesn’t ask us to “believe” this concept. Rather, she simply asks us to “observe and note this process as it unfolds.” (2). Several times in my life, I’ve noticed that as soon as I place my attention on something, the universe responds. Maybe it’s coincidence. Maybe it’s Cameron’s concept of synchronicity. But here is an example of something that’s happened to me:

Several years ago, I wrote my first “real” novel and went through the query process. I was not successful, so I laid the manuscript to rest and got pregnant with my first child. About a month before my child was born, I decided to dust this novel off and give it one last try. I started revising the story. Within a week, an agent whom I had queried a year before responded to request the full manuscript.

Nothing ultimately came of this request, but the timing of it struck me as bizarre.

What do you think? Random coincidence? Or an example of synchronicity? Has anything like this ever happened to you? If so, what was it?

How Fast Do You Write?

mermaids, Motivation

I’ve been hearing stories in the last year about people who “write a book” in lightning fast times. Three months. Two months. Two weeks. Ten days. Seven days. To which my reaction is always: ?!!??!!

From idea to drafting to revision(s) to completion, the time it takes me to write a book is more easily measured by a unit of years. And before I heard all these stories, I thought this was completely normal. After comparing my process to other writers’, however, I would feel badly. Like something was lacking in my ability as a writer.

My husband assures me that I’ll write faster with practice. Conventional wisdom advises me to write at my own pace. But then, I realized recently, maybe it’s not one or another. Maybe, like most things in writing, the answer lies somewhere in the middle.

Over Labor Day weekend, my husband took the kids to his parents’, and I wrote 25,000 words in four days. For me, this was huge. Never had I written such a large amount of words in such a short time before. In addition to a completed rough draft, this “writer’s retreat” gave me something much more valuable – an inkling of how it feels to be one of these lightning-fast writers.

I still have months of hard work remaining before I transform these words into a polished manuscript. One weekend of intense writing isn’t going to change how I write. My pace is my pace. But now, I don’t feel so badly anymore. This weekend showed me that I do have the ability to put words on a page quickly – even if they aren’t the best words in the world.

So, I think the answer is neither to stick your head in the sand, nor is it to wish you could change the way you write. But rather, embrace your own process as a writer, while using other writers’ stories as motivation.

After all, I can’t help the “slow” part of my writing, but maybe I can control the “steady” part. Right?

How fast do you write? What’s the fastest you’ve ever written a book? The slowest? Have you ever compared your process to other writers? How do you deal with feelings of not measuring up?

Turn that Frown Upside Down!

mermaids, Motivation

I’m always on the lookout for new tricks to pick me up when I’m feeling down, with life in general and writing in particular. There’s nothing like insecurity to make me unproductive as a writer, so when doubt creeps in, I do my best to quash it. Fast.

Recently, I’ve discovered two techniques I’d like to share with you.

1. Watch any episode of The Biggest Loser.
Practically every other line uttered on this show can be applied to you and your writing.
• Lines of motivation (“You can do anything you set your mind to do,” “Finish what you start, and finish strong”)
• self-belief (“I am not nothing,” “I am a champion”)
• tough love (“No one else is going to do it for you,” “Are you just going to give up?”)
Pretend the trainers and contestants are speaking directly to you. It’s like receiving a two-hour pep talk (eighty minutes if you fast-forward through commercials), not to mention a shot of inspiration from the contestants’ accomplishments and emotional journeys. I guarantee you will feel stronger, more motivated, and more focused after this exercise.

2. Celebrate your daily efforts.
Don’t wait until your next milestone to celebrate. Yes, I am suggesting that you break open that champagne, treat yourself to a nice dinner, splurge on a new pair of shoes… for no reason at all. Or rather, for the very important reason that you are doing your very best and trying your very hardest. Trust me, you need this celebration more now than you will when you achieve that goal. Then, you’ll be so happy about your accomplishment that anything else will just be icing on the cake. While this exercise should not be overindulged, I think it is important to recognize that your efforts are worthy of celebration even without the external measure of success.

What do you do when insecurity sets in? How do you stay motivated and/or get back on track? Please share any techniques you have for defeating doubt. Against such a formidable foe, I like stocking my arsenal with as many weapons as possible! Happy writing!

Just Free Your Hands, and the Rest Will Follow

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How do you write?

Long-hand with a pen and paper? Typing on your laptop? Or via a voice-activation program?

As you may know, I should write exclusively via voice-activation, but I don’t. For me, there are varying levels of pain with the different modes of writing. Typing on the keyboard at my previous 80-words-a-minute is out of the question. I can usually handle pen and paper for maybe a page or two, “hunting and pecking” with a pen gripped in my fist for a little longer. I can generally scribble in the margins for big-picture edits without too much problem, and I can dictate by microphone for as long as my throat can handle. (And yes, there is such a thing as RSI of the throat muscles!)

Why do I switch between modes when it is healthiest for me to write by “voice”? Because being a writer involves wearing many hats, and certain modes seem better suited for certain functions. For example, my voice-activation program, Dragon NaturallySpeaking, is least effective when I am editing. Dragon works best when I speak in complete sentences, as it uses context to help figure out what I said. Can’t use complete sentences in revising, unfortunately. It’s all about “select this” and “delete that” and “insert here.” Now don’t get me wrong – I love Dragon, I couldn’t be a writer without Dragon – but I kinda want to throw my computer out the window when it misunderstands me for the gazillionth time. So I am willing to endure a little pain when I am editing, since it boosts my writing productivity, not to mention my mental health.

On the other hand, when I am drafting, Dragon is a godsend. Not only does it allow me to produce a large quantity of words, but it also encourages me to let go of my internal editor and let the imaginative storyteller take over. A study referenced in Livia Blackburne’s blog observes that long-hand writers may be more systematic than computer writers, perhaps because it is more difficult to make changes on paper. http://blog.liviablackburne.com/2011/01/typing-vs-longhand-does-it-affect-your.html. I think the flip side is also true: computer writers may be less constrained than paper writers. When you are writing on a computer, there is the sense that you can always revise, giving you the freedom to write that crappy first draft. This feeling is essential for silencing the internal editor.

I would venture to say that writing by voice is even less constraining than typing. What, after all, feels more casual than kicking back on a recliner and speaking into a headset? You might as well be chatting with your best friend.

Loni-Mermaid’s month-long Healthy Writing challenge kicked off yesterday. Awesomeness that she is, she set up five 1K1H (one thousand words in one hour) challenges in the first day. I was only able to participate in three of them, but I came up with 4,235 first-draft words. In three hours. When the time came, I just plugged in my microphone and let the words fly. And frankly, I’m not sure I would have been able to do that with my former 80-words-a-minute typing hands.

A large part of me feels that writing is writing, no matter what the mode. But for those of you who have never tried voice-activation, why not? I think we would all agree that something feels different about each mode of writing, whether or not it’s true. Sometimes, a simple change – whether it be scenery or time of writing – is all we need to revitalize our words. If you haven’t already, I encourage you to add this new way of writing to your repertoire. It may actually be the tool that will break you out of your next writer’s slump.

Do you have a preferred method of writing? What is it? What do you like about it? How does it feel different from other forms of writing?

VANWAES, L., & SCHELLENS, P. (2003). Writing profiles: the effect of the writing mode on pausing and revision patterns of experienced writers Journal of Pragmatics, 35 (6), 829-853 DOI: 10.1016/S0378-2166(02)00121-2

Practice Makes Perfect, or How My Daughter Made a Swimmer out of Me

mermaids, Motivation,

I’m the first to admit, I’m not good in the water. You know that little girl who sat on the sidelines clutching her stomach so she wouldn’t have to take the swim test? Yeah, that was me. Only I wasn’t faking. I was so nervous I literally was sick to my stomach. And then there was the time I went to beautiful Cozumel with my then-boyfriend, now-husband. We paid hundreds of dollars to go scuba-diving… except I never made it past the training exercises. Yep, me again, sitting on the sidelines, tears rolling down my face as I waited for my husband to come back from his underwater excursion. I had nightmares about drowning for six months afterward, no joke.

Fast forward a whole bunch of years, and imagine my dismay when I have a couple of children who love being in the water. This summer, in particular, my daughter begs me to take her to the swimming pool nearly every day. So what do I do when she looks at me with those pleading eyes? The answer, as every parent will attest, is simple: I grit my teeth and take her.

Now don’t get me wrong. I do know how to swim. I’m just not particularly good at it, and I never understood how I was supposed to get a good work-out when I was gasping for breath. But because I was already there, wet, and in a swimsuit, I found myself swimming laps during my daughter’s swim lessons. Day after day, I lugged myself across the pool, and then, a funny thing happened. On these scorching hot summer days, I actually found the feel of the cool water sluicing over my body… refreshing. Dare I say… enjoyable. What’s more, my stroke improved. Without the benefits of lessons or pointers or even conscious thought, I am becoming a better swimmer just by practicing. Imagine that.

Of course, I immediately drew the parallel to writing. How many times have we moaned about how we suck at writing synopses or plotting or revising or networking or (fill-in-the-blank)? How many times has this belief turned into an actual writer’s block? We may not have the guilt of parental obligation to prod us into action, but if we can get our butts in the chair, day after day, and practice the thing that we hate the most, we may surprise ourselves. We may find our abilities improving, and gasp!, we may even find that we’re actually enjoying ourselves. That’s the hope, anyway.

After all, if my daughter can make a swimmer out of me, then anything’s possible.

What is your Achilles’ heel (or swimmer’s ear, ha!) when it comes to writing? How has your ability progressed with practice? Have you ever found yourself enjoying something you were “supposed” to hate? I’d love to hear your stories, in writing or otherwise, so please share your thoughts!

What reality TV has taught me about writing

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I love reality TV. Love it. Over the years, I have wasted countless hours watching shows such as Survivor, Amazing Race, American Idol, So You Think You Can Dance, Project Runway, Top Chef, The Biggest Loser, The Bachelor, and The Bachelorette. Among others.

But were these hours really a waste of time? For one, reality TV has provided me with a much-needed way to unwind after a long, stressful day. For another, amidst the drama and the scandals, these shows have actually – gasp! — taught me something about writing.

Goal. Interestingly, the only reality shows I watch are the ones based on a competition. From the outset, even before we know anything about the contestants, we know what they want. To be the sole survivor. America’s favorite dancer. The biggest loser. Recipient of the final rose. Their goals are clearly defined, and the entire season revolves around the progression towards achieving (or failing to achieve) those goals. Instant plot, anyone?

Conflict. You put a bunch of people in the same room – or the same island – who want the same thing. And then you tell them that only one of them will get it. Instant conflict! The reality shows take it one step further and eliminate a contestant every single episode, keeping the tension high. Even during the most uneventful episodes, I watch until the very end, just so I can see who’s eliminated. This teaches us the importance of having conflict on every page.

Pushing Players to the Extreme. Reality shows take contestants out of their ordinary worlds and put them into extreme situations. A forest in the Amazon with no food or water. A race around the world. A stage in front of an audience of millions. Why? Because when you take people outside their comfort zones, interesting things start to happen. The emotions most central to humanity emerge – fear, jealousy, rage, love, lust, hope, despair, and joy.

Making Tough Decisions. Time and time again, these shows present contestants with difficult choices. Am I willing to betray my friend for a million dollars? Will I give up time with a loved one to curry favor with my teammates? These dilemmas even arise in shows less cutthroat than Survivor. In the most recent season of Top Chef Masters, for example, a quickfire challenged the chefs to make a dish incorporating insects, requiring them to kill the bugs themselves. One renowned chef refused to complete the challenge, as his religious beliefs forbade him from taking a life. In a classic case of “show versus tell,” this single decision told me more about his character than a dozen interviews. True character is revealed in the decisions that people make. The tougher the decision, the more we learn about a person’s character.

Characters. These shows bring together a myriad of people, from all walks of life. They throw these contestants together and watch them clash. The editing team creates characters, from hero to villain to underdog, to maximize drama. With so many different personalities, I always find someone for whom I can root.

In the end, I think reality shows are addictive because they know how to tell a good story. They set up a clearly-defined goal, build in conflict, put a colorful cast of characters in an extreme situation and ask them to make difficult decisions, and voila! You’ve got a story. And that’s what good writing is all about.

What are your favorite reality shows? Do you consider reality TV to be good story-telling or a waste of time? Or a little of both?

 

Presenting Barry Mouse and Mary Mouse

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A few weeks ago, I visited my parents and stumbled across a short story I wrote in the seventh grade. Behold, “The Mice,” complete with illustration:

One day, two mice, Barry Mouse and Mary Mouse, looked out their home in the wall and saw a great, big piece of cheese.
“That cheese is as good as mine!” Barry Mouse exclaimed. “I have wonderful reflexes, and I’m a natural athlete!”
“Not so fast,” Mary Mouse interjected. “Maybe I could get the cheese before you.”
“Yeah, right,” Barry Mouse said sarcastically. “You’re just a girl! How could you reach it before I? I, the magnificent; I, the strong; I, the superior athlete. That piece of cheese is going to taste so good! It’ll be simply delicious! And why should I share any with you? I’ll get it myself without any help from anybody…”
Mary Mouse was sitting there, eating the piece of cheese she had stolen while Barry Mouse was going on and on about himself. Popping the last piece of cheese into her mouth, she grinned at him, “You were saying?”
Moral 1 – Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.
Moral 2 – Never underestimate the power of a female!

I had all the expected reactions after reading this story. I laughed, I sighed, I remembered fondly my childhood days. Then, I showed the story to my stepmom and my sister. As I waited for them to read it, I had another reaction that completely surprised me. A rush of protectiveness washed over me, and I felt fiercely defensive of the little girl who had written this story. One harsh word from the audience, and I would be ready to fight tooth and nail to defend this girl, to shield her from the kind of remark that tears down the spirit before it has the chance to solidify.

This didn’t happen, of course. My mom and sister laughed, and then we all went about our days.

But my reaction stayed with me. And puzzled me. I am not unfamiliar with this all-encompassing need to protect. I have felt it with my sister, who is 12 years younger than me. And now that I’m a mother, this emotion is a part of my daily existence.

But I have never felt it about myself. Why not? I’m not sure. I know I can’t go back in time and protect the 12 year-old girl, but isn’t there a writer inside me who is just as vulnerable, just as needy, just as deserving of my protection? Yet, instead of nurturing her, I have said terrible things to her over the years. Worse, I have believed the detractors who have doubted her dreams.

Would I have accepted these judgments so easily if they had been aimed at my children? Of course not. I would have been spitting mad. While I am slowly exposing them to the realities of life, there are some lessons I hope my children never learn. You can’t do it. You are not talented enough. You are not good enough.

As writers, I think we all struggle to unlearn these lessons, however they came to be taught. I can’t change the past, but I can alter my attitude going forward. The next time I find myself sliding back into these negative refrains, I will think of “The Mice” and remember that I, too, am deserving of my own protection.

Who knew a childhood story could have so much impact? So dig up your old stories and share them with me! I would love to read the words of so much budding talent. I promise, there will only be shared laughter and smiles and not a judgmental word in sight!

The Very Hungry Caterpillar: Artist Date and Bento Box

mermaids, Motivation,

When I was four years old, I made a caterpillar in preschool. I glued together cut-up egg-cartons to form the segmented body and stuck pipe-cleaners on the “head” to form antenna. When I finished, the teacher instructed me to put the caterpillar into my cubby hole, and the class went outside for recess. When we returned, the caterpillar was gone. In its place was a beautiful butterfly.

I remember staring at this butterfly, in delight and astonishment and wonder. Its wings stretched out in an array of color, and glitter dusted its body. Life was all about discovery and exploration, and anything was possible in this world. Absolutely anything.

Of course, then I grew up, and school was no longer about art projects and magical transformations. It revolved, instead, around analytical thinking and practical skills, and I forgot all about the pure joy I felt when I looked at my butterfly.

And then, I stumbled across Julia Cameron’s book, The Artist’s Way, “a course in discovering and recovering your creative self.” In this book, Cameron sets forth the concept of the artist date, “a block of time, perhaps two hours weekly, especially set aside and committed to nurturing your creative consciousness, your inner artist… an excursion, a play date that you preplan and defend against all interlopers.” (Cameron, 2002, pg. 18). My eyes widened as I read these words. Two hours a week? To do anything I wanted? Unbelievable.

But there was more. The artist date is so important because “[i]n order to create, we draw from our inner well…. As artists, we must realize that we have to maintain this artistic ecosystem. If we don’t give some attention to upkeep, our well is apt to become depleted, stagnant, or blocked.” (20). While we fill this well, Cameron urges us to “think magic. Think delight. Think fun. Do not think duty. Do not do what you should do.” (21).

I immediately thought of my caterpillar. When I made it, I didn’t worry about whether or not I was any good at gluing. I just created. When I saw the butterfly, I didn’t analyze how it had gotten there. I just marveled. The artist date encouraged me to do things I’ve always been afraid of doing. I bought a sketchbook and colored pencils and drew. A pot of flowers, an olive jar. I wasn’t all that good, but it was fun. More importantly, the artist date gave me permission to see myself as a creative person. Now, when I am intrigued by a new project, whether it is tie-dying T-shirts or decorating cupcakes, I don’t question my ability. I just do it.

Since I’ve had children, it’s been more difficult to take two hours a week for my artist date. But I like to think I’m keeping up with the spirit of Julia Cameron’s ideas by incorporating creativity into my life. My latest endeavor? Bento-box meals for my children. They’re fun to make, my kids love eating them, and when I look into their eyes, I see some of the same wonder and delight I felt when I experienced magic for the first time.

What is your idea of the perfect artist date? How do you fill your creative well? We all feel depleted sometimes. I’d love to hear your thoughts and be inspired by your creative outlets!
(Bento boxes pictured inspired by the recipes in Yum-Yum Bento Box, by Maki Ogawa and Crystal Watanabe.)

Look, Ma! No hands!

mermaids, Motivation,

My junior year of college, I was sitting in the library, typing away on my laptop, trying to finish up a term paper, when it happened: my hands froze. Not good-God-the-library-is-cold-I-wish-I’d-brought-a-sweater froze. Not even kill-me-now-I’m-never-going-to-finish-this-paper froze. No, I mean my hands physically froze, as in the muscles from my neck through my shoulders through my elbows through my forearms through my hands froze up, so that I couldn’t move them. And they stayed that way for a week. I couldn’t brush my hair. I couldn’t bring a fork to my mouth. All I could do was lie in bed, terrified that my life was never going to be the same again.

And it wasn’t. In the last 14 years, I’ve seen countless doctors, physical therapists, and chiropractors. I’ve tried Western medicine, meditation, and acupuncture. I’ve had a variety of diagnoses. Fibromyalgia. Repetitive strain injury. Myofascial pain syndrome. And my personal favorite, “It’s all in your head.” Yeah, right, Buster. You try experiencing the kind of pain that makes you curl into a fetal position and scream, and then tell me that I’m imagining it.

Still, I tried to continue down the path I had set for myself, the one that was respectable and practical. In spite of the confusion over what was wrong with me, I knew one thing: one of the main triggers for my pain is typing. So I hired a typist, installed a voice-recognition program onto my computer, and got permission to take my exams – even the bar exam – orally. After graduating from law school, I went to work at a corporate law firm. I was miserable, but everything was progressing according to plan. And then I had another flare-up.

Another round of doctors. Three more months flat on my back. Six months of physical therapy. Six months of disability leave. In the midst of this pain and anxiety and suffering, I realized something. My body wasn’t punishing me. It was talking to me, in a way that I could not ignore. It was telling me, Get off of this path. This isn’t what you’re supposed to be doing.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve had one dream, one passion – to be a writer. But parental expectations, discouraging teachers, doubtful friends, and “prestigious” opportunities made me set this dream aside.

I think the voice inside me was sick of being ignored. It had to speak louder and louder until I finally listened. Until I finally understood that I had to pursue my dream. For if there’s one thing that I can do in spite of this disability, it is write – or more specifically, dictate into my voice-recognition program. I can “write” sitting in my recliner, so that my head and shoulders are fully supported. Or, when things are really bad, I can “write” flat on my back underneath a glass coffee table, my laptop face-down on top of the glass, while I dictate into my microphone.

Fourteen years ago, I never thought anything good could come from this pain. But there has. The pain reminds me on a daily basis to listen, really listen, to the voice inside of me, the one who knows me better than anyone else. The one who has the power, finally, to make me happy.

What does the voice inside of you say? Do you struggle with contradicting outside forces? What made you finally listen to your voice?