like the uncertainty of an approaching storm
the staccato tap of fingers on keys
plays a scattered beat. I wonder
if that is the sound of
revealed like sign language,
battle of life
But I happen to love January.
I love the quiet.
I love the peace and stillness after all the commotion of the holidays which tend to drain me.
This year, January is also a sort of hiatus from the busy-ness (and business) of releasing novels. My third one doesn’t release until May 1, and so I have a few weeks “off,” so-to-speak. The down time feels like a warm blanket against what can–for an introvert–feel like an overexposed heart.
Don’t get me wrong–I’m often on my knees with gratefulness about the opportunities and processes of previous and upcoming novel releases. But there really is a time and a season (no pun intended) for everything. I also love being able to hunker down and take my time “filling my tank” with pleasure reading instead of hurrying and having to skim. I love being able to take my time and to be more focused on writing and research and rearranging the plots and sentences more like a sculptor than an assembly line worker.
Words don’t always come easy for me.
Life is hard work.
That’s why I love both the real and proverbial writing winter, when I can nestle myself in to a cozy corner of my home, with one or all three dogs at my feet (or in my lap), and take time to dream and let the words come, rather than feeling like I’m having to chase them down.
Do you like winter?
Why or why not?
The end of the year is sort of cup-is-half-full or cup-is-half-empty time for writers. You either have a year’s worth of progress to celebrate, or you feel like you’ve spent yet another year struggling through rejections and writers block and wondering if you should just finally hang up your pen.
Hopefully, you have much to celebrate: more words on the page, more connections with other writers, more books you’ve read about the craft, more books read in general. But if not, I thought I’d end the year with a bit of encouragement based on things I’ve learned over the years.
This one should go without saying, and despite all the writers who tell people not to write for money, I think the perception is still that if you write hard enough and fast enough, you can make a decent living off your writing.
In some rare cases that is true, but overall, if you’re trying to support a family (or even yourself, considering health care and basic living expenses and if you prefer to eat more than just Beanie Weenies), you need a day job. Without it, your writing becomes desperate.
And good writing rarely rises from a desperate heart.
Most folks don’t know that I wrote a weekly newspaper column for almost three years…for no pay. Sometimes those little columns took 15 minutes to write. Other times I struggled for hours. But I kept writing for free because sometimes that’s what a writer has to do to get their words out. And I’d do it again if I had to, simply for the love of writing for others.
Fame is not only elusive, the desire for fame shows up in your writing. It’s kinda like writing for money.
The more you write for external accolades, the less your voice and your heart shows up in your prose.
The world doesn’t need more predictable, cliché, smutty stories–even if that’s what sells.
The world needs your unique voice and your heart. The world needs your story.
One of the most common questions I get is whether or not I feel like my stories are changed or that the art of my words suffers because of the (mis)perception of mean old nasty red-pen-wielding editors.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
Someone once told me to listen to–and implement–99% of what my editors suggest, and I do. And my work is incomparably improved because of them. It’s not changed, per-se. It’s just plain better.
I don’t care who you are, I guarantee your writing needs an editor.
A funny (or cringe-worthy, rather) story related to this: If you’ve read my second book, Then Sings My Soul, you may recall that a secondary character has a couple of dreadlocks in her hair. My editor told me I should take it out. It was the one thing I left in of all the things she asked me to change, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s the one thing readers have picked out as annoying.
So listen to your editor. And if you don’t have one yet, listen to editors on their blogs and at conferences and in books on the craft. They’re good and smart (and good looking!) people!
You wouldn’t believe the number of people in the world who seem to enjoy discouraging writers. Or, maybe you do know, which is why you’re reading this article on encouragement.
Ten years ago someone told me to forget about my dream of writing books. “The industry is just too hard to break into,” they said.
A couple of years ago, someone asked me “why I don’t write books more like [insert name of best-selling author here].”
Others have told me I have no business broaching the difficult subjects my characters go through.
Friends and relatives will think you should be doing better things with your time, or worse, that the universal themes you’re writing about are aimed at them and they’ll resent you for it.
And those online reviews? Don’t read them. Many of the negative ones are written by trolls and don’t matter in the grand scheme of things anyway.
The bottom line is critics and naysayers will always think your writing is all about how it does or does not impact or reflect upon them, when you know better: your writing is about helping hurting hearts, or making people laugh, or telling the truth.
So grab a pair of blinders and write on, friend.
Have you ever visited a home without books? Considering that I have books overflowing most every room in our home, bookless homes feel bare. Empty. Boring.
The same is true for a writer–or someone who wants to be a writer–who doesn’t read. The prose will feel empty. Your voice will sound forced.
Because part of finding your writing voice–at least in my humble opinion–is listening to the voices of others.
I’m stepping up my reading game in 2016 by joining my first book club!
What can you do to read more this year?