Because We Care

In the span of two days, I had two clients ask the same question: “Does every writer feel like this?” 

This being the sense that they’re overwhelmed, that they can’t do this, that they were stupid to start, that what the hell was I thinking??

I can’t answer for every writer under the sun, but I can answer for more than the 100 writers I’ve worked with. I can answer for myself and every one of the half-dozen manuscripts I’ve written or am working on: YES. An unequivocal, resounding, incontrovertible YES. 

Yes, we all feel this way. Yes, we all feel like maybe we bit off more than we can chew, like maybe we’re not equipped to handle this challenge. Even seasoned writers feel this way when they start a new writing project. 

Starting a story, whether it’s fiction or a memoir, whether it’s a short story or a novel, requires a leap of faith and with that faith comes doubt. Roiling, gut-wrenching doubt. Because writing isn’t easy. And writing isn’t easy especially when we get emotional. By that I don’t mean crying into our coffee (okay, okay, I do mean that, too!) but that we have a lot invested in our stories emotionally. If it’s a memoir, it’s because we’re writing about our lives. If it’s fiction, it’s because we’re writing about what is most important to us. 

We wonder if writing is the smart thing because we care. 

But that’s exactly why it’s the right thing.

Because we care. 

On Why You Write

So I wrote my Oscar acceptance speech the other day. 🙂 For best adapted screenplay based on my bestselling novel, of course. 

Obviously, it’s not actually ever going to be used. I’m not a filmmaker, actor, make-up designer, production artist or, indeed, even a screenwriter. 

But that’s irrelevant. The point of the speech isn’t to deliver it on stage, but to remind myself of why I write. If you listen to the winners’ speeches, they often acknowledge for whom they create their stories, and why. They explain who they hope to inspire, and why. They recognize who their giving a voice to and why. 

And they remind us of the multitudes of people in their lives who have supported and nurtured and loved them—something every artist, no matter their art, needs to succeed. 

So go ahead: imagine yourself on stage. It doesn’t have to be the Oscars, or even an awards ceremony specifically. Instead, it’s about distilling what’s most important to you about your craft in only 45 seconds. 

That’s the way to not only keep your focus, but keep you inspired. 

Then again, maybe you will make it to that stage. In which case, you can thank me for already having your speech prepared. 🙂

It’s Worth Relearning

This is SO not a new insight, but it’s one worth repeating. Over and over and over.

Recently, I’ve been watching the actor Pedro Pascal in both The Mandalorian and The Last of Us TV series. He’s terrific! A real breakout actor. 

Except, “breakout” actor isn’t the same thing as “new” actor. We often make that correlation because the actor is new to us. 

But I learned that Pedro Pascal isn’t even wholly new to me. He had a small role in one of my must-watch shows from the 1990s, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I certainly didn’t remember him, not until Sarah Michelle Geller (Buffy), posted a throw-back picture on social media. Pedro’s reaction? “What I just found out… is that Sarah Michelle Geller remembers me.”  Even he was surprised that a superstar remembered a guest actor in a small role. 

It’s a reminder that Pedro, like many, many creative people, toil away for years in obscurity. How and when we get “discovered” is rarely up to us. It takes timing, the right people and the right alignment of the planets, magic, media and a boatload of luck.

But if Pedro hadn’t persevered? We’d still never know his name today. 

I can’t guarantee you fame or recognition. But I can guarantee you eternal obscurity if you stop writing. So you might as well stick with it. 

And if you never get discovered, after all that? Well, you’ve at least written for yourself. 

That, ultimately, is the most worthwhile audience of all.

Mornings And Memories

At dinner one night, we were talking about morning routines and I mentioned how, in high school, I was as quiet as my own teen daughter is. My husband shared how he would always watch the news in the morning before school. 

“Why did I not know that about you before, Dad? Why do I know everything about Mama’s childhood, but nothing about yours?” my daughter asked.

She’s not wrong. I talk all the time about “when I was your age…” I’m careful to gauge the interest of my audience, though. 🙂 But Scott doesn’t often reveal those memories. 

“I honestly don’t remember a lot of details,” he explained in his defence. 

It got me thinking of the importance of backstory for our protagonists. There may be people who don’t remember much from decades ago, but your character can’t be one of them. The only way a reader is going to know and appreciate the challenges your protagonist faces is by understanding what’s going on in their head—even as the protagonist is trying to figure it out. They do that by looking for patterns. Since we try to make sense of the present by examining the past, we need to know our protagonist’s past. Not every moment, but enough that our reader can appreciate how the past is affecting the character in the present. 

The best thing about this story element, though? Unlike our own memories that can fade, we can make them all up for our protagonist. 🙂

Intuitive Writing

“Intuitive eating” is where you eat only when you’re hungry. It’s sounds obvious, but we often eat for many reasons. We’re conditioned to “finish what’s on our plate” or “eat your vegetables before dessert” or “drown heartbreak in ice cream.” With intuitive eating, there are no restrictions, diets or rules. There is only listening to your body–which is harder than it seems. But babies do it. They eat until they’re full and then stop. In other words, intuitive eating ispossible. We all used to do it, once upon a time. 

I like the concept as a parallel to writing. We want to write, like we want to eat, but often there are rules or restrictions. We must write five pages a day, or five hours every week. It’s not that goals are bad. It’s that we cling to them as the only way to write. 

Instead, I strive for “intuitive writing”. I do set aside time in my day to write, just as I would take time for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But if I feel like a feast, I dive into my draft. Some days, though, I’m not terribly hungry; so instead, I peck away at my revisions. 

If we need to learn to listen to our bodies to eat intuitively, I think there’s value in learning to listen to our minds to write intuitively. 

And, like throwing away the fad diet, it alleviates the guilt. 

Just some food for thought. 🙂

Music and Writing

My daughter listens to music when she does her homework. 

Rock music blasts from the basement when my husband is working out. 

The house is a silent tomb when I’m here alone, working. 

Or, it used to be. 

I had always found music distracting. For “cerebral” or creative tasks, I always worked in silence. 

Until I got stuck, one day, in my writing, no matter how many times I stared at my outline. I don’t believe in writer’s block as an excuse, so I tried to power my way through my problem. Nothing worked. Then I remembered my daughter’s reason why she always listens to music: “It takes my mind off the stress of the work.”

I was stressed, so I tried it. I was worried I’d have to find music to fit the mood of my characters, or the action I was writing, but I gave up on that. Too much pressure; too much music from which to choose. Instead, I went with instrumental music, so I wouldn’t get caught up in lyrics. 

And it worked!

Maybe you have always worked with music; maybe you’re more like me. My point isn’t that music is going to be your silver bullet; it’s that there may be other processes you might have dismissed before—but could now work for you. 

There’s no right or wrong in writing. It’s trial and error. The key, though, is to keep an open mind.

Or, in my case, an open ear. 🙂

A Love Story

I am a hopeless romantic. I’m a cynical, pessimistic curmudgeon in my everyday life—except when it comes to love. 

Maybe because I found the love of my life. Maybe because I knew, even before our first date, that I’d marry Scott—and I have the note I wrote to myself that proves my prediction. (Seriously!! I handed it to Scott the moment after he proposed!)  Maybe because I waited (im)patiently for Scott to recognize what I already knew on that first date—that we’d be together forever. Maybe because we had the perfect wedding and the perfect honeymoon. 

But we haven’t had the perfect happily-ever-after. Not because we’re breaking up. No, the only reason there’s no “happily-ever-after” is because we live in reality. We argue, we bicker, we annoy each other. Our lives aren’t perfect because life isn’t perfect. 

That’s why our stories matter. Because life isn’t perfect, and we want to know how our characters cope. We root for them, or despise them—but we learn from them. Whether you’re writing romance or mystery or fantasy or sci-fi, it’s the conflicts in life that make us who we are. Even the princess, rescuing her prince, has to weather obstacles before their true-love’s kiss. 

That’s why our stories matter. To make us feel like we’re not alone.

Huh. Maybe I’m not so much a curmudgeon, after all. 🙂

Small Steps to Success

I had to renew my membership with the Ontario College of Teachers. Usually it renews automatically, but both my email and phone number had changed so I had to do it myself. First, I had to go hunting for my registration number, then I had to call a real person, who was helpful, but the connection was bad so she was hard to understand. Of course their system crashed, so I had to wait, then try the renewal again. Finally, I got it done. 

Isn’t that a fitting analogy for anything in our writing life? What we think should be simple and straightforward never is? What we think won’t take us very long always does? 

Except I discovered three things about this renewal experience that also applies to my writing life: 

1. Objectively speaking it didn’t take nearly as long as it felt. I was actually done in about 15 minutes. 
2. I felt an unusual sense of satisfaction that I’d persevered and succeeded! 
3. I crossed off something on my to-do list, freeing up more time for other things—like writing. 

Yes, writing takes a long time, even objectively, but, like my renewal, it was time well spent. The effort was worth the result. And when we face challenges, the taste of victory is often sweeter. And while a to-do list for writing a book can be long and daunting, completing one small thing (writing one sentence!) can feel freeing. 

Now, back to my to-do list. With a smile. 🙂

The Power of “What If”

Ever have those moments where you wonder if you should have made a different decision? Maybe not dating that jerk in high school? Or you should have ordered sushi instead of steak? We’re always second-guessing ourselves, wondering if we made the right choices, especially if life isn’t running as smoothly as we think it should. But there are no do-overs. We can’t rewind the clock to turn down the person who would break our heart or decide to take that risky job offer across the country. And, truthfully, we wouldn’t really want to. What we did in our past—good and bad choices—make us who we are today. If you didn’t know what kind of significant other you wanted, maybe you wouldn’t have found your perfect partner today. 

But our minds still whir with “what-ifs?” What to do with them? 

Write about them! We can take instances from our own lives—decisions we made or didn’t make–and give them to our characters. Let your imagination take over. What if your character turned down that jerk? What if your character flung away a secure job? What if your character chose sushi? 

As writers, we’re blessed with the ability to explore these questions in very satisfying ways. And if your character is worse off because of their choices? Well, all the better that you know you made the right ones for you at that time. 🙂

The Tortoise and the Media

I read a feel-good story about a couple, Erika and Jay Johnson, both veterinarians, whose ringbearer at their wedding was a pet tortoise. The story caught my eye because it’s unique, right?

It got me thinking about media attention. The couple didn’t set out to get their wedding in the news. They didn’t think, when they first met, oh, let’s befriend a tortoise just so we can have a special ring bearer at our wedding. In actual fact, they met 20 years earlier doing a wild tortoise study. So incorporating their loved one—who happened to be a tortoise—into their wedding made sense.

It’s the same with our own stories. They’re like the tortoise. We can’t possibly start down this path with the full intent of engineering media attention. If we do, we’ll worry about how to spark the flame of an unpredictable media universe—whether the media is mainstream, social or niche. We’ll end up focusing on how to garner attention rather than how to write the best story we can. 

Instead, start with a story you love, then nurture and care for it—and eventually show it off. Then be patient. Media attention on your writing is a long game. 

And if your story is like the tortoise? Well, then, we know from the fable about the tortoise and the hare who wins. 🙂