A WRITING EMERGENCY

By Sharon May

Don’t mean to be morbid, but, inevitably, I will die, and I worry I won’t attain my writing goals. Health and age are bummers. What can be done about that? Write as quick as hell, I figure.

Whenever I write with intensity, I have an emergency, often medical. I have been writing with constant pain in my right wrist for four years. After three surgeries, it may be gone. Success? Not so fast, my gremlins remind me.

Almost recovered from December’s surgery, I hurt my right hand. Don’t have a clue how, but I severely bruised the hand, which has a metal plate from knuckle to arm, so as to prevent the wrist from bending. Did it in my sleep by turning over on the hand or sleeping on it, the ER doctor thinks. Bruising is temporary, but I lost a week’s worth of writing.

I also ruptured a tendon in my right ring finger. Not a clue what I was doing in my sleep. Air typing maybe? The tendon can be fixed with surgery. Not doing that since I have the ability to push down on the keyboard. Can’t lift the finger up completely, but how necessary is that? The finger hurts when typing. Fortunately, not yet enough to stop me.

The injury has me thinking of a time to come when I could be incapable of typing. I considered that a possibility with the second surgery. I bought a version of Dragon Speak, which I used during my recovery. After that, I drifted away from it. Time to wake up the dragon.

If you have ever used this program, you know there is a learning curve for both user and program. I had to set up the program for my hillbilly accent. Note: that wasn’t a choice in the program, and I selected southern English. Not quite the same. Also, had to learn commands to punctuate, set up a page, format numbers, and so on. Had to speak slowly to match the computer’s speed, which is a bit of a problem as I apparently think and speak faster than it interprets. There was always a rather long lapse between my speaking and the words appearing on the screen.

The program has to learn as well. Recognizing accents and enunciations is important, and sometimes the program doesn’t get it. One time, I said “initiation,” but “consideration” appeared. Not even close. Then there is the lexicon of Appalachia with lots of archaic words and unique idioms rarely in the program’s dictionary. For example, I had to add “quare.” I understand all of this will get quicker with experience but it does take time from writing. Remember, time is the big worry.

As you know, time flies by. Seems to move faster every year. In retrospect, I would have treated my writing with more urgency. Can’t change that. But I can devote my time to writing now, as well as find assistive technology to keep me on track.

THE STRUGGLE IS FICTION

Enjoy this recycled post from 2017.

By Shaun McCoy

I wanted to take a brief time out to come clean here. Think of this as an intervention. You’ve invited all my close friends, family, and Aunt Sally (God knows why you invited her, but you did) to sit my lily butt down and have a talk with me. We’ve gotten past the introductions, the denials, the brief shouting matches,l and then I break down in tears and admit the truth:

I’ve been Writing While Happy.

I know, I know, I shouldn’t do it. Writing is supposed to be tough. The worse the pain, the better the writing. All you have to do is go to a typewriter and open up a vein, yadda yadda.

Well [expletive deleted] that, I say. I haven’t been miserable in nearly two years, and I’m not going back to fulfill some crappy Bohemian-writer stereotype.

I know, I know. I’ve betrayed the fundamental tenant of our craft. Let’s move on from this together.

PLOT TWIST: This is actually an intervention for you! Well, probably not you, you seem like a good reader. It’s for some other person reading this blog. Imagine them for a second. Try to make them vaguely unlikable.

Now, I get why people have this idea that wounds equal words. Just a couple years ago, my life was so utterly depressing I listened to the blues for a pick-me-up. If I got bad luck, I was happy I’d gotten any luck at all! When you’re hurting, you desperately need to reach out. You need to make meaningful connections in this world—even if those connections are only one way. Sometimes, especially when they’re one way. So yes, it was easy to write then. But guess what people? It’s easy to write now!

Communicating is something you should want to do even when you’re happy. Actually, you should want to do that especially when you’re happy. It’s passion that makes a writer write, whether they’re happy or sad, empty or fulfilled, lonely or awash in companionship (Quick aside here to the English language, can we please get a good antonym for lonely? That would be great, thanks. Sincerely, All of Us Writers). It’s those great extremes that make a work compelling. If a sad person can imagine being happy, then a happy person can imagine being sad. It does NOT mean you have to go there.

So this is to you, all you silly movies and stories with your suffering writers. You can shove it. I might write one of you, but I’m not living through you!

And this is for you, you-imaginary-hipster-would-be-writer-sitting-in-your-coffee-shop-clutching-desperately-to-the-small-town-malaise-which-once-invaded-your-life-and-filled-you-with-the-need-to-write—you’re being dramatic. Let it go. Get your dank emotions on the page there, muffin fluff, not on your life.

It’s the need to communicate that helps a person write, not the pain.

And you’re probably wondering (I can tell cause I’m psychic) “Shaun, now that your life’s not a repository of abject suffering, does that mean we’ll finally get a happy ending in one of your stories?”

No.

CLOSE TO YOU

By Bonnie Stanard

“Close To You,” a song made popular by the Carpenters in the '70s, could well describe a change in narrative voice that emerged in the 20^th century. We writers maneuver to draw ourselves (and by extension our readers) as close to the story as possible. In a sense, we write ourselves into the plot. We engage in the action, ponder the mystery, feel the romance.

What we’re talking about is point of view (POV), a way to define the narrator’s relationship to the story, and in this case, first person POV. It’s more like being in a movie while we create the plot and dialogue. We perform as the starring player and experience, along with the audience, the action as it unfolds. (Third limited POV is a close approximation of first person and involves switching narrative pronouns from first to third person.)  

You might think it’s easy to tell a story as if you’re a character in the story. But the way is narrow and the distractions many. First off, it’s complicated to play two roles (actor and writer) at one time, something that can confuse you about who you are and whose motives are in play. While you’re a character in the story, you’re aware of the thoughts, opinions, and plans of only one person, yourself. While you’re the writer working on a plot, it’s easy to slip out of the actor’s role and into the thoughts of other characters.

Something else to think about. When you’re present in the story, there are restrictions on the way you divulge the plot. For instance, if you, as an actor, play a lover who doesn’t know about a betrayal, how do you, as author, let your readers know this? It becomes a challenge to remain in the persona of a single narrator throughout a novel. And a reason why writers may change POV from one chapter (or excerpt) to another.

OMNISCIENCE ON THE DECLINE

This intimacy between author and story allows us to avoid “just the facts,” as Joe Friday said. In today’s world, “facts” often contradict one another. Much of our information comes from the media, and if you’re like me, you see those “facts” as corrupted by perspectives, i.e., opinions. Some people are coming to believe there are as many “facts” as there are people in the Universe. It’s as if omniscience as a concept has been brought into question. And to sound omniscient is to sound didactic. (Who are you to tell me the facts?)

Today’s Joe Friday would know that “just the facts” actually means “just your opinion.” Truth has morphed into your truth vs. my truth; your fact vs. my fact. Given an uncertainty about reality, we hesitate to be decisive about the particulars of a story (omniscient POV) and choose to go with impressions we attribute to a narrator.

EYES WIDE OPEN

By Raegan Teller

At book signings, people often tell me they aspire to do what I do: publish a book and see their name on the cover. That’s understandable. For many of us; writing is in our DNA. We journal, we write a few stories or poems here and there—all worthy efforts and good for our creative psyche. So it’s only natural to consider taking our writing to the next level and becoming a published author.

I always encourage people to pursue their dreams and to keep writing no matter what. But for the writers who aspire to publish and sell their work, I offer some humble advice: know what you’re getting into. As a former management consultant and executive coach, I worked across many industries and non-profit organizations, and publishing is one of the craziest fields I’ve ever seen. Just ask any professional author and they’ll likely agree.

You see, when you jump over that chasm from writer to published author, you have to be both an introverted person who can hole up for months, or even years, to write a project and be an extroverted person who reaches out and markets tirelessly. Additionally, you take on a whole set of responsibilities you might not have bargained for. You’re required to have a polar-opposite set of skills that cover the spectrum from tedious left-brain tasks to big-picture, right-brain planning.

Here are a few tasks that are consistently on my to-do list: plan, outline, and write the next book, story or project; edit/rewrite work that’s already written to prepare for publication; explore and visit book signing locations; attend signings; maintain and track a personal inventory of books; create marketing plans; manage my online presence at Amazon, other sites, and on social media; update my blog and website; look for new story ideas; attend workshops for continuous learning; enter contests, network . . . I could go on and on. Oh, and did I mention things like spend time with friends and family, manage a household, plan meals, go to the gym, and carve out some quality “me” time? And just know that publishing more books doesn’t always make it easier (actually, it’s more challenging—more of everything). But you do learn a lot along the way, especially about how to protect your sanity. You must be organized, learn to say “no,” and set boundaries with people who ask for too much of your time. No college guidance counselor would ever recommend that someone pursue such a crazy career. Yet, as writers we do just that.

My purpose in saying all this is not to overwhelm aspiring writers or to wallow in self-pity—and certainly not to discourage anyone. On the contrary, I have fulfilled my dream of being an author and wouldn’t change that for anything. And for those you who want to do the same, I wish you well. But if you choose to take the next step of this fabulous journey, just do so with eyes wide open.