What If I’d Stayed Home?

Posted on February 24, 2024 ·

Image by Artem Chunaev from Pixabay

It’s a rainy Saturday in February and I’m sitting in my car, in an empty parking lot, with a notebook in my lap. Usually I go to the coffee shop on weekend mornings to write, but today I’m feeling a little under the weather.

I probably should have stayed home, but my habit of leaving the house to write is so deeply ingrained, and the parking lot is just across the street. There’s warm air blowing softly from the vents and the sound of rain pattering down on the windshield.

Maybe I won’t write anything good, but maybe I will.

Maybe I’ll write the sentence that leads me into my next story, and maybe that story will be the best one yet.

Maybe I’ll write a few messy pages that will later need to be reworked several times, but at least I’ll have something to work with.

Maybe I’ll write the outline of an essay that I won’t be ready to draft for another year, maybe two, but it’s a start.

Maybe I’ll write a whole poem, beginning to end, one of those surprising pieces that arrives fully formed and perfect as-is, and maybe I’ll keep that one for myself.

What I won’t do is leave this parking lot without writing anything. Because every time I put pencil to paper and create something good, I wonder, what if I’d chosen not to write today? What if I’d stayed home?

What if I gave up after fifteen minutes of staring out a windshield on a gray and cloudy morning, thinking I had nothing to say?

Then I wouldn’t have this. This sentence, this poem, this beginning.

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Linden Way Blog Tour: Reviews, Guest Posts, and My Personal Highlight (So Far!)

Posted on October 16, 2022 ·

Image by DreamPixer from Pixabay

Weeks three and four of the Linden Way blog tour included a review by Jess over at Literary Quicksand that has been the tour highlight for me.

Jess teaches middle school language arts, and she included an anecdote about a reluctant reader that nearly moved me to tears. Any time in the future I’m feeling low about writing and wondering if it’s all worth it, I’m just going to pull up this one review and remember I made a difference to this one teen.

Here are some other reviews from the last few weeks:

Sue Bradford Edwards at One Writer’s Journey reviewed Linden Way, calling it an unnerving story that “has that old school horror vibe.”

Nicole Pyles at World of My Imagination offers her own thoughts on Linden Way, describing Amber as a rich and complex character: “I loved the pushes and pulls of memories that feel so achingly real to her but impossible to change.”

Chris at GirlZombieAuthors had mixed feelings about Linden Way, but enjoyed the family relationships, which she posted about in an honest review: “The best relationship here is Amber’s interactions and remembrances with her brother.”

And Judy at Knotty Needle Creative admits to being spooked by Linden Way, but ended up enjoying this “rollercoaster of a read.”

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed The House on Linden Way!

Posts penned by me include 5 Tips for Getting Unstuck When Writing Your Novel, and a little essay that captures the heart of Linden Way called The Lingering Ghosts of Our Childhood Homes.

Finally, enjoy this fun interview with Linda at Boots, Shoes, and Fashion, where I answer questions like what inspired me to write, which character in Linden Way was the hardest to write, and most importantly: boots or shoes?

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How to Fall in Love with Writing All Over Again

Posted on February 21, 2021 ·

It happens—sometimes you just lose your love for writing. Like all relationships, there are exhilarating highs and plunging lows.

Maybe you’ve bravely faced off a monthslong slew of rejections but the last one finally broke you.

Maybe you can’t seem to create momentum—you start and then stop, start and then stop, and then wonder if you should just stop altogether.

Maybe you’re focusing on numbers instead of words: the number of views on your website; the number of comments on your essay; the number of ratings on your Goodreads page.

Whatever the source of your change of heart, here are some ways to rekindle the flame and fall back in love with writing.

Embrace writing as a hobby

Most advice suggests treating writing like a job, as if calling it a hobby diminishes the seriousness of your craft. But weighing down your writing with ‘have to’ language can feel negative. Work is something you have to do that’s often associated with drudgery; hobbies are things you choose to do that are associated with fulfillment.

Using ‘have to’ language can also inflate the importance of your writing so much it becomes paralyzing. For example, ditch the phrase ‘I have to write because writing is like breathing.’ Ditch the idea that being a writer is your whole identity. No wonder your muse is afraid to show up; who needs that kind of pressure?!

Instead of claiming that you have no choice, embrace how empowering it is to choose writing.

Make a schedule and show up

Treat your writing as a hobby but make it a habit. Create a schedule and then show up. It doesn’t have to be every day; in fact, maybe it shouldn’t. I’ve found my own personal sweet spot when drafting is four days a week. On the fifth day I’ll type up a summary of what I wrote and spend a few hours planning the week ahead.

Taking a short break gives your creative mind space to breathe, process, and most importantly, build anticipation. You’ll soon find you cannot wait for that next drafting day, and you won’t be as tempted to skip days because you only get four of them—plenty of time to move your story forward but not enough time to burn out.

Keep your writing sessions short (an hour or two), keep them consistent, and stick with your schedule.

Start early

The moment you start consuming, your creativity becomes compromised. It is crucial to begin the day with your own writing.

This does not mean you have to roll out of bed and immediately grab a pen and notebook. I get up, make my coffee, go for a thirty minute walk, shower, eat breakfast, and then I write. What I don’t do is check email, listen to anything (including music), turn on a TV, or read someone else’s words. No news articles, no inspirational writing blogs, no books. No one’s words get to come before mine.

To accomplish this, you have to resist checking your phone in the morning. It may be hard at first, but it’s worth it. Years ago I set my iPhone to downtime from 8:30 p.m. to 8:30 a.m. Everything is blocked save for actual phone calls, text messages, alarms, and the weather app (I have to know how to dress for my walks!).

Save that perfect, clear-headed, optimistic morning mind for your art; don’t let any clutter in. Start each day this way. Create before you consume.

Practice gratitude

It really is the little things that make the biggest difference, so celebrate them. Take a moment at the end of the day to recognize one good thing.

Some recent examples for me are: picking lemons off the tree in the late morning sunshine; chocolate peppermint tea; making coffee cake with Gabe. None of these have much to do directly with writing, yet acknowledging them helps promote mindfulness and observation—important skills for writers.

Committing moments to the page that may otherwise be lost reinforces daily the benefits of writing things down. The trick is you only get to pick one per day. This not only makes it easier to keep up the habit, but it sharpens another critical writing skill that we don’t talk about nearly enough—the art of brevity.

Be yourself

Writers talk a lot about finding their voice, as if it’s an elusive piece of magic waiting to be discovered. But it’s just you. You already have a voice, and although you may not be able to hear it, others will. Trust that it’s there and stop looking for it, or you’re likely to sound self-conscious and inauthentic.

You know how your truest self appears when you’re not focused on how you’re acting, like when you’re with your best friend or your kids? But around others sometimes you focus so hard on how to act you start acting … awkward? It’s the same with your voice, even when writing fiction.

Think of your favorite novelists—for me Simone St. James and Tana French come to mind. Their books are filled with distinctive characters, yet I always know I’m reading a Tana French or Simone St. James book because every page is stamped with the writer’s unique voice. Your pages will be too. Just be you.

Creative self-expression is the sweetest gift. Treat your gift like the treasure it is, and you’ll find yourself falling in love all over again.

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Why You Should Join National Novel Writing Month

Posted on October 31, 2019 ·

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

As the last ghostly trails of October slither away on Halloween night, November—and the real terror— begins.

That is, if you’re a writer.

November is National Novel Writing Month, otherwise known as NaNoWriMo, and like any scary story worth its salt, the online writing project is an anxiety inducing mix of horror and excitement. Attempting to write 50,000 words in one month? Terrifying. Watching your stats rise on the bar graph with each word count update? Definitely a thrill.

Whether you’ve been feverishly plotting your book in preparation or warily side-eyeing every NaNoWriMo reference in your social media feeds, you should absolutely join. It costs nothing yet offers a wealth of support, positive energy, and useful resources. And if you’re under 18, or teach those who are, the Young Writers Program provides a safe and encouraging space dedicated to children and young adults.

There are plenty of naysayers out there who will point out that attempting to write that many words in one month is crazy, it will all turn out to be crap and a colossal waste of time, but writing is never a waste of time, and if that doesn’t convince you, I’ll let you in on a little secret …

NaNoWriMo is not really about writing 50,000 words in a month. It’s about committing to a project and writing fast enough to outrun self-doubt. This is essential; you can’t write slowly and edit as you go with a novel. With short stories, sure. But a novel is too big; once you start looking back it overwhelms you. Plow through the first draft and get the story down. Fine-tuning comes later (much later).

Also! Writing is supposed to be fun and plunging into the madness that is NaNoWriMo alongside a community of over 400,000 fellow wordsmiths is a blast. Ignore the naysayers and the snarky comments on social media. Maybe they’re right and in the end you won’t use anything you wrote toward a published novel. But guess what? Every minute you spent writing made you a better writer.

What have you got to lose by trying?

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The Everyday Writer

Posted on July 31, 2019 ·

Photo by Mark Duffel on Unsplash

I have never been an everyday writer. There are brief periods of time when I write every day, but when the project is finished or the monthly writing challenge wraps up, I simply stop.

The intention is always to take a short break and then begin again, but sometimes it’s months before I start something new, at which point I write furiously, devoting entire days to my work.

This needs to change, because come August I no longer have the luxury of entire days. When my kids return to school, I will be joining them.

I’ve long wanted a part-time day job but refused to compromise when it comes to my children’s schedules. It’s important to me that I’m available to take them to school, pick them up, and be with them for their holidays off, which include several weeks throughout the school year in addition to summer vacation.

That basically left me one option—get a job with the school district—and finally I found one with the perfect schedule, working four hours a day in student support at an elementary school. I volunteered weekly in the classroom when my kids were younger, and I’ve missed everything about it. I am so excited.

I’m also nervous. Because now my writing time has been slashed from four hours a day to one. Because now there’s no making up for lost time. The only way to produce any reasonable amount of work is to break my pattern of writing in irregular bursts and instead write a little every day.

The idea has its charms. I’ve always pictured the everyday writer as someone who wakes at dawn to steal moments while his family sleeps or visits the same café each morning to fill a page or two before rushing off to her day job.

I treasure sleep, so the former will never be me. However, I can clearly visualize the latter, and with such limited time I believe it’s essential that I write away from home. I even have a coffee shop in mind.

A place free from the lure of laundry, cleaning, and checking email. A place with dim lighting and quiet corners and cheap drip coffee. A place that isn’t quite home but could still become mine—a sanctuary for the everyday writer.

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The Story Behind You

Posted on August 31, 2018 ·

Sometime in May I was browsing for journals at my indie bookstore (in recent years I’ve learned to overcome my reluctance of writing in journals) and discovered a gem called 50 Things About My Mother.

I purchased two copies, smiling as I imagined how my children, ages 11 and 16, would answer prompts like “My favorite childhood memory of us together” and “The best gift you ever gave me.” These time-stamped treasures were all I wanted for Mother’s Day.

Their responses were as illuminating, sweet, and funny as they are. Gabriel’s answer to “My favorite fun fact about you” was “you are not like most mothers” (“In a good way, right?” I asked in amusement, to which he hastily agreed). Abigail’s responses to “Things I know you can’t live without” included breakfast, Barnes & Noble, and us. (She’s right).

And then, toward the end of Gabe’s book, I read aloud his answer to “Things I’ve learned from you along the way.” Momentarily speechless, I glanced at my daughter, who looked back with matching surprise. Here is what he wrote:

“Wow, Gabe,” I said. “That’s beautiful.”

“It’s poetic,” Abbey agreed.

And it’s true. You have a story behind you, something I’ve taught my kids—who both like to write—but have never worded quite so eloquently.

You have a story behind you, and that doesn’t mean you’re bound to its narrative and can’t create something new; it simply means you have everything you need to get started. In an interview with YA Review Net, Jacqueline Woodson, who writes both fiction and memoir, states it another way: “My writing always starts from a place of memory.”

Mine too. My latest novel is about a woman who revisits her childhood home and becomes lost in her memories. It’s a ghost story, a story of a haunted house and the trappings of nostalgia. I believe in ghosts, and haunted houses, but I’ve never really encountered them; the writing is fiction. Yet it starts from memory—memories of a beloved brother, of a childhood home, of early motherhood and its suffocating fears.

It’s a collection of moments I’ve left behind. Together, they fused with my imagination and created their own story, something entirely new and exciting but rooted in memory, my memories, something only I could create.

You have those moments too—moments scattered throughout your past that burned bright enough to make a lasting impression and are waiting to be rediscovered, and maybe reimagined. You have a story behind you, one I’d love to hear. So, write.

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On First Publications

Posted on May 18, 2018 ·

Photo by Lance Grandahl on Unsplash

A writer’s first publication is something special. I remember mine—a newspaper article I wrote when I was fifteen. My friend Bethany wanted to be a photographer and I had lofty aspirations to become a music journalist. Some of our friends were in a heavy metal band and had an upcoming gig, so I wrote a sprawling profile and Bethany arranged a photo shoot of the band members perched on a block wall at sunrise.

I gathered our materials in a manila envelope, waltzed into the offices of the Merced Sun-Star, and told the receptionist I would like to see the editor, please. With a straight face, she told me he was busy at the moment, but she’d be happy to take my envelope. Reluctantly I handed it over, reiterating my preference of delivering it personally, as the material was time-sensitive. The receptionist assured me it would be forwarded promptly and—who knows?–maybe they could use it for the Sunday edition. She smiled politely, and I walked away feeling dejected.

That weekend we went out of town to visit family, but when we returned I skimmed through the Sunday edition, just in case. When I saw my byline above a (ruthlessly edited) version of my article, my jaw dropped open. I ran through the house, shrieking that the NEWSPAPER published my story! The NEWSPAPER! I saw clearly my future as a celebrated music journalist, perhaps writing for Hit Parader or Metal Edge (spoiler alert: neither magazine survived the digital age, and mainstream metal did not survive the 90s). The moment is etched forever in my mind as my first real writing triumph.

Last month, my daughter had her own defining moment—also at the age of fifteen. Encouraged by her creative writing teacher, Abbey wrote a short story to submit to the 2018 Tempe Community Writing Contest. Her story “Ladybug Princess” won first place in the high school fiction category and was published in Tempe Writers Forum V.4. I was so crazy proud of her I purchased over a dozen copies, sent out an email blast, and instructed my husband and son to have roses and chocolate cake waiting when we returned home from the awards ceremony.

Abbey’s been writing seriously since middle school and has been recognized for her talent by winning honorable mention in the Young Authors of Arizona Scholastic Writing Awards in both 2015 and 2016. While those achievements were awesome and inspiring, there’s nothing like winning first place and having your story appear in print.

She had the option of reading “Ladybug Princess” at the awards ceremony and bravely chose to do so. I sat in the front row, brimming with joy at my daughter’s accomplishment and also thankful that she has this victory to power her through what can sometimes be a difficult journey.

It takes grit and tenacity to be a writer. Those of you who are writers know what I’m talking about. It means facing rejection over and over. Losing your confidence and feeling, at times, very alone. Spending hundreds of hours crafting stories you never know if anyone else will read.

But experiencing the wonder of creating worlds and characters that otherwise would never have existed? The incomparable thrill of seeing your name in print for the first time? So worth it.

Read Abbey’s award-winning story here.

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Write With Joy

Posted on September 12, 2016 ·
Image from Flickr by dillypopdotcom

Image from Flickr by dillypopdotcom

In his essay collection Zen in the Art of Writing, Ray Bradbury talks about writing his classic dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451. Distracted by his daughters at home (“Father had to choose between finishing a story or playing with the girls. I chose to play, of course, which endangered the family income”), he began visiting the university library to write.

At the time it cost a dime for every half hour to rent one of the typewriters, so he’d write like mad trying to cram words in. It cost him a total of $9.80—all in dimes—to complete the first draft, which he did in nine days.

I thought that was a pretty great story. I can picture the young father, desperate to make the most of his limited writing time, hunched over an Underwood in the basement of a university library, furiously pounding away at the keys. The end product turned out pretty well, wouldn’t you agree?

Bradbury was a big advocate for writing every day, and for having fun while doing it. He insisted we should write with joy:

If you are writing without zest, without gusto, without love, without fun, you are only half a writer. It means you are so busy keeping one eye on the commercial market, or one ear peeled for the avant-garde coterie, that you are not being yourself. You don’t even know yourself. For the first thing a writer should be is—excited. He should be a thing of fevers and enthusiasms.

I’ve written with joy, with love, and with gusto. I’ve also written with self-doubt, with despair, and with dread. I always felt like a whole writer, but it’s true that if you’re writing your story for anyone else besides yourself, you’re not really being you.

Not every writing project will be fun, but it should at least be exciting. Sometimes I get excited about an idea but then overthink it and lose that joy. I used to believe it was the actual writing I found laborious, the way Dorothy Parker described it when she said she hated writing but loved having written. But no—for me the frustration is not writing, but not writing, which inevitably happens when I’m overthinking.

Which would not be a problem, I’m sure, if I had to pay for the privilege of typing out my words. I guess with inflation that dime Ray Bradbury paid for every half hour of typing Fahrenheit 451 would be, today, about a dollar. And I imagine if it cost me two dollars an hour to write, I’d write a lot faster. Maybe I could even draft an entire novel in nine days.

Okay, probably not. But I’m sure I’d have more fun doing it.

Writers are writers whether they choose to write with misery or with joy; I’d much rather choose joy. And Ray Bradbury had the perfect advice for how to do that, summed up in two little words he kept on a sign by his own typewriter for decades:

“Don’t think.”

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Other Voices

Posted on November 24, 2015 ·

One piece of writing advice you will hear repeatedly—and with good reason—is to put aside your rough draft for a while before starting edits. This is so you can gain perspective on your work. Usually the problem is that after you write something you think it’s fantastic, maybe the best thing you’ve ever written. But sometimes it’s the opposite—sometimes you think it’s the worst.

I felt that way about my story “We Never Get to Talk Anymore.” I wrote the rough draft nearly three years ago, shelved it for a few months, and then reread it. This is terrible, I thought. No one’s going to like Myrna. No one’s going to understand her. Yet another, smaller voice was cheering for her, saying, No, this is good. Keep working on this.

Unfortunately, some stories are that way: no matter how much time you take away from them you cannot gain perspective. Back then I was still shy about asking friends to look over my work, so I struggled on my own trying to decide whether this story had any merit. After submitting it and receiving a swift rejection I felt strangely validated–I knew this was terrible!

I tweaked the story a bit, set it aside for several weeks, tweaked it some more, resubmitted it, received another rejection, and went through the whole cycle again. At no point did I feel truly confident in this particular piece. The fourth time, however, I submitted it to a magazine called YARN, and they would not only publish “We Never Get to Talk Anymore” but nominate it for a Pushcart Prize.

This story that I once thought was the worst thing I’d ever written.

Remember those competing voices in my head? What if I’d listened to the louder one? The quieter voice—the one that believed in Myrna’s story—was right. But often you won’t listen to that voice. Sometimes you won’t even hear it.

What I want to tell you is don’t be shy about sharing your work. Pick two or three writers you admire, and make them your critique partners. Listen to other voices, because when it comes to judging your work, yours can’t always be trusted.

Yes, once in a while a story will come along that perhaps wasn’t meant to be written. Or, more likely, it is simply not the right time for that story to be written. Maybe it really is a mess, completely unsalvageable. Maybe you’re right that it deserves to be permanently shelved.

But maybe you’re wrong.

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How Sweet the Silence

Posted on May 8, 2015 ·

I read something the other day about how we have a better chance at accomplishing goals when we keep them to ourselves.

That struck home, because the first time I wrote a book I didn’t tell anyone. Not my kids, not my husband—not until I had a completed first draft. Back then my youngest was three years old, so it’s not like anyone was asking, “What do you do all day?”

Since that novel was published, however, I’ve struggled to write the next one. I’ve started several, and if you follow me on social media, you’ve probably heard about them, because like most of us on social media I’ve fallen into the habit of publicly announcing my hopes and dreams almost from the moment they’re envisioned.

This doesn’t work for me.

Sometimes there was good reason my plans fell through. I joined National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) in November 2013 ready to pen my next novel. I told everyone. And then I got content edits back for The Fourth Wall, and spent the rest of the year knee-deep in edits.

The early months of 2014 were devoted to “preparing for launch”; I’d never been through the publishing process before and had a lot to learn. But by March I thought, Okay. I’ve done all I can do and now I’m just sitting here waiting for a publication date.

So I joined Camp NaNoWriMo on April 1, ready to pen my next novel. I told everyone. And on April 2—yes, really—I received the email with my publication date. Two months away.

Now—one year later—I’m going to tell you what all authors know and most don’t talk about for fear of sounding like ungrateful jerks: once you’re published, everything becomes harder. Your reasons for writing get lost and what you swore you wouldn’t care about—the numbers—becomes all you care about. And then it’s hard to keep going, because the numbers will break you.

I didn’t bother joining NaNoWriMo this last November. Instead, I read throughout the fall and then all winter long, and when people asked me what I was working on I usually told them the truth: nothing much.

But something happened recently, on April 1, to be exact. On that day I made a last-minute decision to join Camp NaNoWriMo, ready to pen my next novel. I told no one. And I ended the month with 30,000 words toward this new book.

So, what’s my book about? I’m not telling. 😉

Not yet.

What I’ve discovered is that keeping quiet about my works-in-progress has enormous benefits for me. For example, if I’d announced on April 1 that I was starting a novel, I may have been completely deflated three days later when I realized I wasn’t writing a novel at all, but a rather long short story. Still, no one knew my original plan; I could change it and write a book of short stories if I wanted. All that mattered was that I was writing again.

So that’s what I did. Last month, I quietly wrote a book of short stories.

I know. It’s impossible to get a short story collection published unless half have already appeared in The New Yorker, or you’re famous, or whatever.

But what if I didn’t know that? Like a scrappy pilot once said while navigating an asteroid field, “Never tell me the odds.”

Or what if all that really mattered was the sense of accomplishment that comes with creating something you can be proud of? That’s where I started, and finally that’s where I’ve returned.

I’m proud of these stories, I can’t wait to tell you about them, and sometime very soon—I promise—I will.

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