As I was entering the wide world of writing--and yes, the world of the published author--I often heard those more experienced than I caution that writing was hard work, writing was an effort, writing demanded dedication and commitment. I found every caution I heard to be true. Writing is tough. Writing drains you. Writing can be lonely. The writing process demands emotional reserves you didn't know you had.
Bottom line? So many more reasons to celebrate!
Did you reach your writing goal today? Take 5 minutes to sit back with your eyes closed and savor the moment. Did you finish a synopsis today? Treat yourself to a bubble bath. Did you finally crack that scene that's been riding you for days? Call up your friends and play whatever sport you love. Did you write today? Make yourself a cup of coffee (with a shot of chocolate?) and pat yourself on the back.
Don't wait for the "win"--the contest placement, the book contract, seeing your name in print for the first time.
Celebrate all the little victories, the daily successes, the baby steps that reinforce that you are a writer and you are moving toward your next goal.
Celebrate the gifts that you've been given. The ability to put words together in a way that creates a compelling story and having the passion to create are true gifts.
Acknowledge and celebrate your commitment to this glorious, frustrating, invigorating, wonderful activity called writing, regardless of the amount of time and effort you've decided to dedicate.
Make celebration as much a part of your routine as your writing.
Celebrate Writing!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
And you thought I was a good writer . . .
Before I became known as the wildly successful (just kidding) novelist Joani Ascher, I was the little known Joani Ascher with extremely sub-par writing skills. I know this because my husband, David, a lawyer who can suck the life out of any sentence, told me so. When I said I wanted to write an article, he suggested I take a writing class at The New School in New York City. After I worked out the logistics of the child care situation (this was in the eighties and my children were still young), I signed up for a basic expository writing class.
I somehow got it into my head that I should write like Anna Quindlen, whose weekly columns I had been reading in The New York times. I had written a letter in protest when she had alleged that women who do not have jobs outside the home spent their days nesting. Amazingly, that letter was published, which means it was probably read by more people that one day than have read all my books. I can accept that, even though there was an unfortunate typo. (The letter, by the way, can be found on the NY Times website.) Notwithstanding my disagreement with Ms. Quindlen, I wanted to write like her.
The New School instructor started us off with some simple exercises. The first assignment was to write a provocative slice-of-life story. I wrote about the time David forgot to tell me until 10 pm that he needed to bring a cake for his secretary’s birthday the next day. I love to bake and have a bit of a reputation locally as a good baker. So I got to work immediately, melting the margarine in the microwave, mixing the flour, and generally following my usual recipe. I put the layers in the oven, washed up, and took the cake pans out of the oven to let the layers cool. I was bleary eyed by that time and looking forward to going to bed right away, since I had to get up at six am to frost the cake. The layers seemed oddly mounded to me, but I figured I would worry about it in the morning.
When I awoke and went to nuke the butter for the frosting, I discovered I had left the margarine in the microwave, which might have been the cause of the oddly mounded layers. I consulted David. We both wondered about how the cake would taste, since it was missing a key ingredient. But more worrisome, the layers were shaped like breasts.
I finished my narrative, neatly tying it up with an explanation about how we had trimmed the layers to make them flat, tasted the cut-off pieces, which were surprisingly edible, and frosted the cake just in time for David to take it to work. I submitted the story after giving it a provocative title, thinking that would help meet one of the goals of writing a provocative reflection on life. I titled it “And you thought I was a good baker . . . . .”
To my astonishment, the following week the instructor read my piece to the class. Afterward, she wrote the title on the blackboard. She commented positively on my humorous story, but pointed out that my use of punctuation was incorrect. There are only three dots in an ellipsis.
Who knew?
And that is why I took that course again, then a different one, and would have taken more if David had not needed to use the evening hours for his own nefarious purposes—becoming a school board member. My intended article about learning disabilities, a subject no one seemed to be covering, was never published as every submission was rejected with a rationale generally along the following lines: “If we wanted an article on that subject, we’d hire a professional.” Coincidentally, several magazines soon started publishing articles on that subject. I take full credit.
Though my article did not appear in print, I was hooked on writing and I have never stopped.
Joani Ascher
I somehow got it into my head that I should write like Anna Quindlen, whose weekly columns I had been reading in The New York times. I had written a letter in protest when she had alleged that women who do not have jobs outside the home spent their days nesting. Amazingly, that letter was published, which means it was probably read by more people that one day than have read all my books. I can accept that, even though there was an unfortunate typo. (The letter, by the way, can be found on the NY Times website.) Notwithstanding my disagreement with Ms. Quindlen, I wanted to write like her.
The New School instructor started us off with some simple exercises. The first assignment was to write a provocative slice-of-life story. I wrote about the time David forgot to tell me until 10 pm that he needed to bring a cake for his secretary’s birthday the next day. I love to bake and have a bit of a reputation locally as a good baker. So I got to work immediately, melting the margarine in the microwave, mixing the flour, and generally following my usual recipe. I put the layers in the oven, washed up, and took the cake pans out of the oven to let the layers cool. I was bleary eyed by that time and looking forward to going to bed right away, since I had to get up at six am to frost the cake. The layers seemed oddly mounded to me, but I figured I would worry about it in the morning.
When I awoke and went to nuke the butter for the frosting, I discovered I had left the margarine in the microwave, which might have been the cause of the oddly mounded layers. I consulted David. We both wondered about how the cake would taste, since it was missing a key ingredient. But more worrisome, the layers were shaped like breasts.
I finished my narrative, neatly tying it up with an explanation about how we had trimmed the layers to make them flat, tasted the cut-off pieces, which were surprisingly edible, and frosted the cake just in time for David to take it to work. I submitted the story after giving it a provocative title, thinking that would help meet one of the goals of writing a provocative reflection on life. I titled it “And you thought I was a good baker . . . . .”
To my astonishment, the following week the instructor read my piece to the class. Afterward, she wrote the title on the blackboard. She commented positively on my humorous story, but pointed out that my use of punctuation was incorrect. There are only three dots in an ellipsis.
Who knew?
And that is why I took that course again, then a different one, and would have taken more if David had not needed to use the evening hours for his own nefarious purposes—becoming a school board member. My intended article about learning disabilities, a subject no one seemed to be covering, was never published as every submission was rejected with a rationale generally along the following lines: “If we wanted an article on that subject, we’d hire a professional.” Coincidentally, several magazines soon started publishing articles on that subject. I take full credit.
Though my article did not appear in print, I was hooked on writing and I have never stopped.
Joani Ascher
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Pitching Your Book
Written by Carolyn Hughey
This month I’d like to focus on pitching to an agent or editor.
For those of you who have never done this before, sitting across from one of the industry professionals can be a little a daunting at first, but I hope by the time you finish reading this, you’ll feel better.
So, relax, take a deep breath, and if push comes to shove, you can read your pitch right off a card--you know, the 3 X 5 index card you wrote it on.
I remember my first pitch. I’d written it down on cards, practiced until I was blue in the face, then two hours before post time, I attended a workshop designed to polish your pitch. Bad mistake—very bad. Not because the workshop didn’t provide good information—I was so nervous, I couldn’t absorb what she was saying. I suddenly began to doubt myself, convinced my pitch was going to make me the laughing stock at conference. I walked outside and sat on a bench trying to come up with something else. Fortunately for me, a friend walked by and within ten minutes, she gave me a pitch. She’s so good at that stuff. But so are you. You just don’t know it yet.
So, here’s what I’m suggesting. Think High Concept. What is High Concept, you say? Well, it’s pitching your novel to a publisher in one sentence. If the concept alone is different enough, you're going to have a much better shot.
Now, think about your story in elements. What one thing about your story gives your audience a visual—a universal icon? What’s the unique twist? What’s the irony of the story?
Sometimes when I’m having difficulty with the High Concept idea, I play the “what if” game. By way of example here’s one from my WIP entitled The Missing.
Universal Icon: Teddy Bear
Unique Twist: the missing child ten years later
Irony: the bear came back, but not the child.
Weren’t you able to visualize that sad little worn-out teddy bear? You just know this is going to be a gut-wrenching story, don’t you? Okay, so now it’s your turn.
Another nifty tool you can use to develop your pitch is located on Cathy Carmichael’s website at: http://www.kathycarmichael.com/generator.html. All you have to do is fill in the blanks and it generates a pitch for you.
Lastly, remember this: no matter how you feel inside, unless you’re turning green, no one but you knows how you feel. I promise, you’re going to be awesome! Now, get out there and sell that story. And remember, these agents and editors you’re pitching to? They’re going to be working for you—you’re just going to interview them to see if they’re a fit.
See? Now doesn’t that make you feel better?
Posted for Carolyn Hughey by LaVerne St. George.
This month I’d like to focus on pitching to an agent or editor.
For those of you who have never done this before, sitting across from one of the industry professionals can be a little a daunting at first, but I hope by the time you finish reading this, you’ll feel better.
So, relax, take a deep breath, and if push comes to shove, you can read your pitch right off a card--you know, the 3 X 5 index card you wrote it on.
I remember my first pitch. I’d written it down on cards, practiced until I was blue in the face, then two hours before post time, I attended a workshop designed to polish your pitch. Bad mistake—very bad. Not because the workshop didn’t provide good information—I was so nervous, I couldn’t absorb what she was saying. I suddenly began to doubt myself, convinced my pitch was going to make me the laughing stock at conference. I walked outside and sat on a bench trying to come up with something else. Fortunately for me, a friend walked by and within ten minutes, she gave me a pitch. She’s so good at that stuff. But so are you. You just don’t know it yet.
So, here’s what I’m suggesting. Think High Concept. What is High Concept, you say? Well, it’s pitching your novel to a publisher in one sentence. If the concept alone is different enough, you're going to have a much better shot.
Now, think about your story in elements. What one thing about your story gives your audience a visual—a universal icon? What’s the unique twist? What’s the irony of the story?
Sometimes when I’m having difficulty with the High Concept idea, I play the “what if” game. By way of example here’s one from my WIP entitled The Missing.
What if a teddy bear belonging to a boy who’s been missing for ten years, suddenly appears on his parents doorstep?I’ll break this down into elements so you get the idea:
Universal Icon: Teddy Bear
Unique Twist: the missing child ten years later
Irony: the bear came back, but not the child.
Weren’t you able to visualize that sad little worn-out teddy bear? You just know this is going to be a gut-wrenching story, don’t you? Okay, so now it’s your turn.
Another nifty tool you can use to develop your pitch is located on Cathy Carmichael’s website at: http://www.kathycarmichael.com/generator.html. All you have to do is fill in the blanks and it generates a pitch for you.
Lastly, remember this: no matter how you feel inside, unless you’re turning green, no one but you knows how you feel. I promise, you’re going to be awesome! Now, get out there and sell that story. And remember, these agents and editors you’re pitching to? They’re going to be working for you—you’re just going to interview them to see if they’re a fit.
See? Now doesn’t that make you feel better?
Posted for Carolyn Hughey by LaVerne St. George.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Toilet Paper and Storytelling by Jane Myers Perrine
This is going to be a split-personality blog. The first section is something I found interesting in the June 22, 2009 issue of TIME magazine. The other comes from a recent program at a writers’ meeting.
First, from TIME magazine: "If every household in the U.S. replaced just ONE 500-sheet roll of virgin fiber toilet paper a year with a roll made from 100% recycled paper, nearly 425,000 trees would be saved annually." At the end of the article is this line: "Yes, recycled TP is not the world's softest, but. . .ask yourself whether it's really worth tapping an ancient forest to create the ultimate disposable product." (Page 97)
There are some paper items I cannot do without. Books head that list. However, using recycled napkins, paper towels and toilet paper is an easy ways to keep our forests IN the forest and to insure there’s still paper for all of our novels. When you consider that our ancestors used catalogs and that much of the world has no idea what toilet paper is, I bet we’re tough enough to do this.
Secondly, in our last writers’ meeting, we discussed the difference between a storyteller and a writer. A writer concentrates on words, putting together a book through language. A writer uses beautiful words and images that convey emotion and setting.
As you might guess, a storyteller tells a story. What happens to the characters, conveying their emotions, is most important to the storyteller, not the words used to tell it.
Both are wonderful. If storytellers also have a way with words and images, what terrific books they write. But, according to the women who gave this program, most authors are one or the other.
Which kind of author are you more likely to read? Can you think of—and share—examples of books you’ve enjoyed AND if you believe the author is a writer or a storyteller? I’d really be interested to know and will send a copy of one of my books to one of you if five or more readers are willing to share OR if you can guess my favorite storyteller. HINT: she’s writing novels now.
First, from TIME magazine: "If every household in the U.S. replaced just ONE 500-sheet roll of virgin fiber toilet paper a year with a roll made from 100% recycled paper, nearly 425,000 trees would be saved annually." At the end of the article is this line: "Yes, recycled TP is not the world's softest, but. . .ask yourself whether it's really worth tapping an ancient forest to create the ultimate disposable product." (Page 97)
There are some paper items I cannot do without. Books head that list. However, using recycled napkins, paper towels and toilet paper is an easy ways to keep our forests IN the forest and to insure there’s still paper for all of our novels. When you consider that our ancestors used catalogs and that much of the world has no idea what toilet paper is, I bet we’re tough enough to do this.
Secondly, in our last writers’ meeting, we discussed the difference between a storyteller and a writer. A writer concentrates on words, putting together a book through language. A writer uses beautiful words and images that convey emotion and setting.
As you might guess, a storyteller tells a story. What happens to the characters, conveying their emotions, is most important to the storyteller, not the words used to tell it.
Both are wonderful. If storytellers also have a way with words and images, what terrific books they write. But, according to the women who gave this program, most authors are one or the other.
Which kind of author are you more likely to read? Can you think of—and share—examples of books you’ve enjoyed AND if you believe the author is a writer or a storyteller? I’d really be interested to know and will send a copy of one of my books to one of you if five or more readers are willing to share OR if you can guess my favorite storyteller. HINT: she’s writing novels now.
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