...Not What I Do

I think I'll offer a bit of writing advice this morning...
Ignore writing advice.
Yeah, that's my advice.
Ignore it.

I've given hundreds of writing seminars and taught many writing classes, I've mentored newbies, I've worked with writing groups...and dispensed all the advice that floats around in my brain.

I've had 31 novels published and more than 70 short stories. At this particular moment, I have nothing unsold in my computer. Oh, I'm working on a couple of things, but they're not finished yet. I have nothing finished in my computer that is not sold. I've edited a few dozen anthologies, more than a hundred issues of fiction and non-fiction magazines.

So I'd like to think I can offer good advice. But you don't need to take it. In fact, feel free to ignore it.

When I go to a convention, I attend writing seminars...especially those presented by Michael Stackpole, Timothy Zahn, and Gene Wolfe. And I take notes. I've had people ask me why--with all of my publishing credits--do I still attend "how to" panels. That's because I'm still learning my craft.

Michael Stackpole gave me a nugget of information at an Origins seminar years ago that cemented in my noggin and I've been following ever since. And ever since that time my rewrites have been insignificant...often the editor didn't ask for any rewrites. I have Mike to thank for that.

I met Gene Wolfe because of a writing panel. He was a GOH at the World Horror Convention in Chicago some time back. I went to his seminar, and he polled the audience to see how many of us had been published. Then he asked how much we'd had published. I think I was up to six or seven novels at that point. He crooked his finger at me and said: "You. You get up here. There is nothing I can teach you." So I shared a panel with the awesome Gene Wolfe. And we got to be friends. He doesn't really give me any writing advice, he just gives me his company at breakfast.

Tim Zahn is just a joy to listen to...and I've been listening to his seminars since 1985 in Evansville, IN. Yeah, it goes back a way.

In all the seminars I've attended, the advice most often repeated is: FINISH IT. Just keep writing, and when you're done go back and fix it. Just FINISH IT first.

Finish, then fix.

In all the years I've been writing, it's the one piece of writing advice that I do not follow. Oh, I finish what I start. I wouldn't have 31 published novels if I didn't. But I've never finished a book before I went back to fix it. I'll write a chapter, go back through the chapter and tinker until I'm happy. Then I can go on to Chapter Two. I can't work on Two until I'm happy with One. Rinse and Repeat. It's how I've always worked. It's not how I should work.

I've honestly tried to break myself of the habit.

I'm working on a book now, just ready to start Chapter Eight. BUT...

I'm going back to fix stuff in the earlier chapters this week. Because I have to, because I can't follow the writing advice that is so often offered: finish it first, then fix.

It doesn't work for me. I'll think of something I want to sprinkle in a previous chapter. And I can't wait to do the sprinkling. I have to sew that plot twist in RIGHT NOW. Maybe I'll decide to change the sex of a character, the way a character talks or dresses, or maybe the character needs to say something to serve as foreshadowing.

I know writers who jot a note to go back and make adjustments, changing the character from their current point and forging ahead.

Finish, then fix.
 
I can't do it.

I can't fix it later.

I have never been able to fix it later.
 
I have to fiddle with it NOW.

I can't take that wondrous piece of writing advice that I also dispense to folks during seminars, workshops, and critique sessions.

It's one of those: Do As I Say, But Not As I Do things in life.

Advice? Yeah, listen to it. You might pick up that amazing nugget that I got from Mike Stackpole years ago. Something that changes your writing life.

But in the end, you gotta do what works for you.

Now I'm gonna go fiddle with Chapter Two.

By the way, Gene Wolfe was wrong when he said there was nothing he could teach me.

Jean

Just Hit “Disconnect”

When I cruised Facebook during breakfast yesterday…like a lot of writers I dine at my desk, I saw a Kickstarter announcement about an uber-portable laptop-computer-thingie to which lots of folks had already ponied up their money. Supposed to be a boon for writers because they can type on it without the distraction of the Internet…Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, and WhatNot…you just can’t connect. Looks like a small typewriter, really, with a tiny screen. Like these portable units my news bureau used “back in the day,” where you would carry them with you, type up your story, and then you had to connect them to a phone to transmit it all back to the newspaper office. Yeah, that was before e-mail.

Anyway, with this new uber-portable invention that more than a few writers are excited about, you are able to type and type and type because you aren’t able to access the Internet and its many distractions—though you can upload your work to the Cloud so you won’t lose it.

Great, eh?

You can buy in for less than $400, although you can spend more than $1,000 for fancier models. Hmmm …. $400 buys a lot of tea, dog toys, books, and the like. Guess you can tell I’m not gonna buy in on this magnificent writer’s tool. $400 would also buy you a very nice new laptop that can access the Internet and all its marvelous distractions.

Or you could put your $400 in the bank for a rainy day.

Maybe what these buyers need—more than this portable laptop-computer-thingie—is focus, discipline, and determination. Things that no amount of money can buy. Those things you have to find and forge.

Really, if you want to write, just sit down and write.

I’ve had folks in seminars ask how I avoid losing too much time to the Internet. I tell them, easy. Generally, I allow myself a little time in the morning to “mess around” with the Internet while I eat breakfast—and I’m an early riser. My work day starts at 8 a.m….WORK, writing, editing, proofing. So my fun time has to be out of the way by then. I take a mid-morning break to get up from the desk, toss some tennis balls, check e-mail, then I’m back at WORK. A mid-afternoon stretch…more tennis balls are thrown, maybe laundry is thrown into the machine. Then WORK. If I have to do some research, I limit myself to one half hour. That’s it. No more, keeps me from randomly surfing. And generally I check e-mail or Facebook before I shut the computer down at the end of the day.

I found my focus, discipline, and determination. And they didn’t cost $400.

I actually disconnect from the Internet when I work. It’s real easy to do. You just go to your computer settings, connections, and hit “disconnect.” In fact, I’m gonna do just that after I post this blog.

Sometimes I disconnect from the Internet for two or three days at a time…frustrating some of my friends who have e-mailed me and wonder why I haven’t replied.

“But how do you limit yourself like that?” someone invariably asks at a seminar.

“I have to. Disconnect. Move the arrow over the disconnect square and hit ‘enter,’ and it turns off the Internet.”

If I want to remain a full-time writer/editor, I have no choice. 

Writing and editing full time is a privilege. Not a lot of people are so blessed with this vocation, and I’m not going to let YouTube screw it up.

I don’t need the $400 computer-thingie. I just need to “disconnect.”

If you let yourself be distracted by the Internet, you really don’t want to write…you want to do anything else but write.

If you buy this computer-thingie, and I am not advocating that you don’t, just realize that it’s not going to make you a writer. You have to make you a writer. A machine can’t do it for you.

You have to wrestle with whatever demons lure you to Facebook or on-line games and beat them to a bloody pulp. You have to confront whatever force is preventing you from hitting the “disconnect” button.

I guess I really am mystified why some of my fellows think this computer-thingie is a good idea. I’m not begrudging its creators. More power to them. They’re clever, and they’re selling to some folks who aren’t able to unplug from the Internet on their own. 

And, who knows, maybe the device is wonderful, the battery life is amazing and is a serious plus in that regard. I think a travel writer could benefit from it, or someone who wants to type in the middle of nowhere with no power outlet in sight. If I was sailing off on some glorious houseboat, I’d want one.

But I really like a nice big screen.

I’m wondering what these buyers will do when they get their marvelous laptop-computer-thingie delivered in 2015 or 2016? Will they open it and think: “Now’s my turn to crank out that bestseller.”

If there’s no magic in the machine, it won’t make you a better writer. It won’t make you a more disciplined writer. In fact, it won’t make you a writer at all. I wonder if it will instead make you a $400 poorer soul who will step away from this new marvel and return a laptop that beckons with distractions. Oh look…another YouTube talking cat video.

Because if you can’t step away from Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, games, and WhatNot now, this machine isn’t going to take that step for you. This machine is just one more distraction.

If you’re gonna write, just write. 

Now, I'm gonna go hit 'disconnect' and get back to my book.

Thanks for reading my rant.

FMs

Fulgid Meteorites
Fluid Molasses
Fomenting Magmamen
Flowering Marsupials
Fridge Magnets

Really, it's all about the Fridge Magnets. I should probably be blogging something about writing or editing or reading, right? But I want to post a blog once a week, and so Fridge Magnets is my topic of choice today. My mother gave me my first FM when I was a kid. I voraciously read Spiderman comic books, and she saw this nifty web-slinger magnet on one of her shopping errands. It has moved from Ottawa, IL, to DeKalb, IL, to Quincy, IL, to Evansville, IN, to Williams Bay, WI, to Burlington, WI, to Kenosha, WI, and finally to tiny Tolono. He's a little yellowed from the years and the miles, but he's still hanging in there.

I started collecting magnets from states I visited on various vacations, band tours, and later conventions and a cruise. Visiting friends noticed my growing collection and blessedly have added to it from their own travels. It is a wonderful, chaotic, colorful miasma of birds, dogs, states, bottle caps, and whatnot, that I occasionally artfully rearrange so I can fit new additions. They tip the scales at a little more than twenty pounds (I weighed them before the last move).

Iowa rests next to China, which is near Tennessee.

Ah, I've learned to appreciate the beauty of FMs.

How unique my kitchen is!

It's an homage to past travels and a shrine to friendship. I can point to any one FM and tell you who gave it to me...pretty amazing considering the assortment I have.

So why am I blogging about this? I dunno. I was looking for a topic when I poached eggs for breakfast. The shiny art display caught my eye.

And now it has caught my imagination. I have a murder-mystery in progress (well, I'll be back to it after I finish this SF book). I've decided my main character will have a quirk. Her father collected Christmas tree ornaments. She'll collect FMs; her only obsession, really, and it'll point to her past...a lead-in for the occasional flashback.

The FMs on my fridge will make an appearance in the book.

Okay, I've tied it back to writing. Hope you find room on your fridge for a few FMs of your own.

Jean

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The deluge of catalogs to my mailbox started at the end of September. Figis, Fruit Company, Popcorn Factory, Swiss Colony, etc etc etc etc. I have collected, so far, a stack that goes from the floor to my knee. I marvel at all the wonders within their pages: cheese trays, breakfast baskets, wine of the month, tangelo surprise. 

Part of this is my fault; for years I sent editors little gifts at the holidays, sent something to my uncle, distant friends. I used multiple catalogs, not realizing what I was letting myself in for. Now, even though my gift list has been cut in half, the number of catalogs has increased exponentially. THEY SHARE MAILING LISTS. Even though I have moved from Wisconsin to Illinois, like a creepy stalker from a bad thriller THE CATALOGS HAVE FOLLOWED ME. I did not order from any of them in 2013, and yet they're here again. I am not ordering from them this year (though admittedly I got my uncle and a friend gift baskets from a company online...after seeing their catalog).

You're probably nodding your head. Yep, yep, I get catalogs too. What On Earth, Wine Country, Pecan Heaven.

Worthless, right?

I've decided they have some value after all. A SF book I'm working on has a character with a penchant for wine...what she drinks comes right out of that Wine Country catalog. She likes cheese, too, so I'll thank Swiss Colony for her supply of munchies. No need to scour the Internet for what to serve in Chapter Six, I'll just tug out one of the catalogs.

In Chapter Seven I am going to describe people on the street...some of them will wear T-shirts I spotted in a What On Earth catalog. And a few of the fellows in my text will have a striking resemblance to the male models in a clothing catalog. 

Some part of my brain has decided that if a company is going to spend money printing and mailing the catalogs, I shouldn't let them entirely go to waste. Just doesn't seem right.

One of my neighbors sells AVON, and so she regularly hangs a catalog on my door. Flipping through the pages I was inspired to write a horror story, and it appears in Athena's Daughters published by Silence in the Library. Hmmmmmmm....the next time I take my doggy downstairs for a tennis ball tossing break, I'll see if I have an extra copy of that anthology. It'll be the perfect Christmas present for my Avon Lady neighbor.

I'll be introducing a new character in Chapter Eight. I better get to that today because there's FREE SHIPPING if I order by 5 p.m. I think I'll put this one in a trendy tweed overcoat I saw on page 13, maybe put him in some fine leather boots that are 33% off.

AND THEN...AND THEN...my knee-high and growing stack of catalogs will join the assortment of junk mail that I'm certain my tiny town's residents are throwing into the recycling bin. 

Maybe there's another horror story waiting to be written, the plot simmering in the mounds of pulpy refuse.

Black Friday Indeed.

No Surprises?

I told myself I'd post a blog every week. I thought I'd stick to it. Well...the previous week our Internet and telephone went out. Gone. Dead. Static. Just got fixed yesterday, hence I'm typing this. I'm amused at the problem behind our outage. Frontier hired some new people, and one of said new people hit some keys on a computer and apparently disconnected a few folks in my area. It was peaceful. No phone ringing for days. No posting inane comments and wonderful dog pictures to Facebook. I think I'll detach from the world every once in a while from now on. It felt good.

This past weekend I attended a small game convention in Bloomington, IL. I like small conventions, friendly, relaxed, you can walk from one end of the hall to the other without feeling like a sardine inching along on a conveyor belt. I played Pathfinder. I love roleplaying games. I've been playing them since college. And I actually tried my first session of D&D in the con suite of the very first WindyCon. Yes, that was a LONG WHILE ago. I went on to work for TSR for more than seven years and ran a chunk of Gen Con. Games are in my blood, I guess.

So this convention was fun, but I played a game in which one individual took over the action. For better than an hour, I sat quietly while his character went ahead to "check out" the dungeon. My character tried to edge forward, but he scolded me, saying he wanted to stay at least two rooms ahead of everyone else.

I was bored.

To tears.

But worse than that, his reason for "scouting ahead" was to keep the rest of the party safe. He rolled a "43" on his hide check. If you're a gamer, you know that's darn impressive to impossible for a mere 7th level character. He said he wanted to discover all the threats and to make sure there were no surprises, and by hiding and moving ahead he could do that.

No surprises?

No shock at a monster jumping out from around the corner?

No sense of fear or dread when you trip that trap that unleashes a flamestrike?

What fun is that?

I want a game--and a world for that matter--that surprises me, that astonishes me. I want the books I read to catch me off guard. I want my movies to provide a plot twist I didn't see coming. I don't want the surprises taken away. Take my breath away instead!

Don't ever take away the surprises.

Y'all have a good week. My fantasy football team won...that pleasantly surprised me.

Jean

 

And so it begins . . .

Friends have urged me for quite some time to do a blog. URGH. I'm not terribly savvy at this sort of stuff, nor do I like to take time away from writing. BUT I understand this is important to help draw folks to my books, so here goes:

I've got some neat stuff happening that I want to write about but that I can't write about until I sign contracts ... don't want to jinx myself, ya know.

So I'll write about breakfast instead.

I have the pleasure of breakfasting at least once a month with the glorious Gene Wolfe (who does not blog...smart man). We meet at Cracker Barrel and argue over who is picking up the check. He inspires me, makes me laugh, and I count myself fortunate to have him for a friend. I got to breakfast with him yesterday, before stopping at the ORCHARD for HONEY CRISP APPLES and going to the post office.

And I'll write about mail.

AND SO IT BEGINS. Some years ago I used to send editors and publishers I'd worked with boxes of nuts or candy at Christmas to thank them for the various projects they'd included me on throughout the year. I've worked with SOOOOOO many editors and publishers now that I can't keep the practice up, just too expensive. I send them cards and notes instead.

BUT because I'd ordered STUFF and continue to order goodies for an old uncle and my husband's aunt, I get CATALOGS CATALOGS CATALOGS and from places I'd never ever ordered or knew existed ... because they share mailing lists. NOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooo. I've tossed more than a dozen in for recycling already. Swiss Colony, Figis, fruit companies (4 of these with juicy-looking oranges on the covers went out yesterday), Popcorn Factory, Wine Country (which by the way if you're ordering goodies has the best assortment for the price and often with free shipping). Toss Toss Toss. I've asked to be removed from mailing lists. That seems to generate even more catalogs.


I only order three or four things out of these catalogs each fall. It is costing them much more money to solicit from me than they are making from me. 

And yet, it's not all bad ... I have been inspired to write a short piece of fiction regarding this holiday mail volley.

So I suppose the junk mail has been useful.

Have a great weekend. I'll do this again next week...hopefully with something more interesting or enlightening.