Overload Paralysis

A few years back, when my daughter was still an infant, we lived for a time on the island of Chincoteague, VA. Since I still had commitments back home, I would make the trek up and down the Eastern seaboard twice a month, my car filled to the brim with all the ridiculously large items a tiny baby seems to need.

Almost every time I needed to start packing up, I experienced a strange phenomenon: I couldn’t do anything. I would find myself standing in the middle of the living room, frozen. My mind whirled with the long packing list I had, as well as with all the things I needed to do other than packing—cleaning, bill paying, etc. I had so much to get done that I couldn’t do anything at all. The overload would paralyze me.

I sometimes get that way about writing, too. I end up with so many projects going on at once, that when I do get some free time to work on something, I end up doing something totally unrelated to writing. The overload of work can paralyze my creativity and my motivation. Right now, I am editing 2 novels, polishing up 2 short stories, have 2 blogs due every week, and have to maintain the constant round of social media—Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads… Not to mention reading the dozen or so blogs I follow regularly.

It can be overwhelming enough that I want to hide from it all.

There is a way to break the paralysis. The answer is both easy and hard.

Pick something.

Do it.

That’s the big secret. Do something, anything, on your list, and you can advance into productive work. But what to pick? Hardest thing first? Easiest thing first? It depends on your mood and your personality.

If I have a very long list but most of it is little stuff, I will do the easiest first and work up to the hardest. By doing the easy things first, I get the instant gratification of checking things off my list and seeing the list get shorter quickly. If I have a shorter list but the tasks are more complex and time-consuming, I will usually do the hardest one first. That way I know the most difficult (and often the most time-consuming) one is done and the rest will be easier and usually take less time than that first one. So, sometimes I inch my way up to the top of the hill, and sometimes I start at the top and coast down.

Of course, there are always things that are not on your To-Do list that crop up and need to be done. Those you just have to incorporate based on their necessity. I immediately need to take care of my daughter when she falls off the bed and hits her head, but the crayon drawn on her closet door can wait until I have more time. The phone call from my family needs to be answered, but the one from an unknown number can leave a message.

Do you experience overload paralysis? Do you have a different way of busting out of it? Or do you have a method of organization that bypasses this overwhelmed reaction altogether?

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Senseless Description: When Your Writing Doesn’t Feel Real

Many writers I talk to say they are very visual—they can envision every detail of a scene, they know exactly what their characters look like, and they see the action unfold like a movie in their mind. Not long ago, I would have said the same thing about myself. After all, I spent about a decade as a professional video editor—working with pictures was what I had been trained to do. So I must be a visual person, right?

Wrong.

I read this blog post by Patrick Ross, and it opened my eyes (so to speak). I realized that I’m not a “eye-writer,” I’m an “ear-writer.” I process the world through sound. Sure, when I would study for a test in school I would have memorized my notes/texts to the point where I could see the words exactly in my mind. But I cemented them there by reading the notes aloud multiple times. I am much more likely to recognize a voice before I recognize the face (and recognize the face LONG before I remember the name!). I can remember entire swaths of conversations, but not a thing about the surroundings I was in at the time. Music has the power to plunge me into a memory so vividly I can forget where I am.

Turns out, I write by ear.

This revelation explains a lot about my writing. My first drafts are always “short.” They are always sparse on description. I have to go back in and pump it up in later revisions. But I still get feedback from my crit partners that the world is not vivid enough—that they can’t see it and feel it. They are not immersed in it.

Writers are told that we need to engage all the senses when we write. I have a disadvantage from the start because I have no sense of smell. So that is usually missing in my stories—which is unfortunate because smell is one of the strongest associative senses, bringing memories flooding back. I thought I had the visual part down (because I was a “visual” person, right?), but turns out I’m light on that, too. What I think is adequate description is not quite enough to immerse the reader—because I process the world through sound. What is adequate description for me (I can read books with very little physical description and not mind at all) is not enough for most other readers. Certainly not enough to build a world.

So now I know this about myself, and can work on improving it. I need to be very conscious of how much visual description I am giving and the quality of detail in that description. I have to remember to go beyond what I think is enough. I need to play to my strength as well and add more auditory description. And, as always, I need to ask someone what things smell like so I can drop that in where appropriate.

So, if people aren’t connecting to your world, take a close look at your description. What sensory details are missing? And then try to figure out why you write that way.

I love continuing to learn about my craft—because in the process I always learn more about myself.

What’s your strong suit in sensory description? What do you struggle with?

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Life Transitions

The one thing about life is that things are always changing. Even if you never change your routine, you are still aging every day and eventually that will change the way you live. Change means transitioning from one life stage to another—maybe it’s just a small change, maybe it’s a large one.

Most of us find transitions hard. It would be great if every transition in life could be completed as seamlessly as paragraph transitions in a well-written book. Unlike paragraph transitions, however, we don’t have the luxury of going back and revising it until we get it right. We just have to muddle through as best we can, often with a great deal of angst and worry. Face it, life is always a rough first draft.

Anyone who has children will tell you that the only constant is change—especially the early years. As soon as you’ve gotten used to one routine—eating, sleeping, playing—the kid changes the rules. I am experiencing that right now.

When Toddler started school in November, I suddenly had 6 extra hours on my hands. A wonderful boon! AND she still napped in the afternoon, so I was assured of approximately 2 more hours a day to work. Altogether, it added up to about 20 hours a week—not bad.

Until two weeks ago, when my daughter decided naps were no longer needed.

There went about 14 hours of guaranteed work time—poof!

So we’ve been transitioning, she and I, as to how I can still get work done while she’s awake. We’re trying the “quiet time” route, where I still put her down for a nap, but tell her if she can’t sleep she needs to play upstairs for a certain amount of time. This is only half-working.

She stays up there for a while, but not as long as I want her to. I am going to try a visual timer so she can actually see the red disappearing. Then maybe it won’t seem so long to her. But, I have been letting her come down with the understanding that Mommy is working and she will have to play by herself.

That first week saw lots of conflict—her wanting to involve me in everything, me telling her I couldn’t. Watching her hurt face when I said it, and it nearly breaking my heart. Not to mention I was exhausted. I admit right now that I would often catch a nap while she napped. I’m a night owl, I work best in the evenings, and I would always push a little later than I should because I knew I could get a nap in during the day. Now that I couldn’t, I was snappish from lack of sleep.

This second week has been better. Toddler has been much more content to play on her own for a while, either upstairs or down. She seems to be grasping the idea that Mommy will play with her LATER (delayed gratification is hard for Toddlers!). That it’s not a forever exile. And I am making sure that when I do play with her, I give her my total focus, since she deserves me to be completely THERE when I am with her. I’m also trying to get to bed earlier, so I’m not so tired.

So, we are working it out, we two. Stumbling, bumbling, clashing, but managing. This transition has been anything but smooth, but I know someday it will settle into a new normal.

And just as soon as we get used to that, our normal will change again!

How do you deal with the disruptions in your life? Especially where kids are concerned?

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The Revision Exercise Regimen

Revision is a lot like starting a new exercise program. They both have very distinct stages you have to pass through before arriving at the end.

The hardest stage for a lot of people is getting started. Most of us need to exercise more, and we know it, but getting started is tough. It means finding time to exercise instead of doing all the other, more fun, things I want to spend time on. Revision is the same way, particularly when it’s a large revision. It’s overwhelming and I feel like I’m never going to be able to get to the end of it. So I procrastinate, doing all the “fun” writing things instead.

But finally, I have to take the plunge.

That first week on a new exercise program is tough. Aching muscles. Fatigue. Sweat. I so want to give up during this first week, and the revision process can be equally as painful. Those first few revision sessions are spent planning my attack, marshalling my details so I don’t forget to do something. My brain aches from juggling all the revision details, my eyes are tired from looking at the screen, and I’m sweating because I am positive there is no way I can get this done.

It is so easy to quit at this point. But I can’t—not if I want to reap the rewards.

Slowly my body adjusts to the new normal. The achy, tired muscles go away. My metabolism ramps up and I find myself haunting the kitchen for snacks (which I do not buy for this very reason). The revision program hits this phase, too. When I’m actually doing the revising, checking things off my lists, my brain ramps up—it’s playful, creative, eager to move forward. Ideas flow and connections get made that I didn’t see before.

After a while, I notice a change in my body. I feel stronger. I have more stamina. In revision, I grow in confidence, I am energized by the process. I can see the finish line, glowing like a beacon in the distance.

In the end, if I’ve persevered, I end up with a leaner, stronger, healthier body. The same is true with my novel. After the days of disciplined revision, the book is leaner, the story stronger, the whole healthier than when I began.

For me, sticking to an exercise regimen is really hard, because I find no joy in exercise at all. I’ve never once experienced the “exercise high” others have. Revision, on the other hand, I do enjoy. I love cutting the chaff and strengthening the story. “Writer’s high”? Maybe the difference is that to maintain my body once I reach a goal, I need to keep exercising, while with a manuscript, there’s a finite end point. While you may have to revise multiple times, at some point you stop and call it “done.”

But the key to success, as in so many things in life, is perseverance.

So get started, stick to it, and reach your goal!

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Sickness as a Stakes-Raiser

Usually I don’t have too much trouble coming up with blog posts, but this week was hard. Why? Because I’ve been sick all week and my head is as fuzzy as a Muppet (can you tell I have a toddler?). Feverish, sinus pressure, cold-then-hot-then-cold, runny nose, cough. Unpleasant, but not fatal in the course of my normal life. It’s just a cold.

But suppose you felt that way when your life WAS on the line?

A plain old cold can be fatal if it stops you from performing at your best in a life-or-death situation. And I got to thinking that I don’t see illness (other than fatal illnesses like cancer) in books too often. So maybe sometime I will see what happens if my character catches a cold at the wrong time.

You all know how you feel. Weak. Exhausted. Shivery. You can’t breathe properly. You can’t sleep. You can’t hear very well because your ears are plugged. You can’t think because the mucus is clogging your brain. Sometimes your eyes are sensitive to light.

Any one of those things can be a problem if you are facing a villain, but all of them together is formidable. I’ve seen plenty of books where INJURY gives the main character issues, but not illness.

So next time I need to raise the stakes, maybe I’ll just have someone get a cold.

How about you? Can you think of any books where a minor illness at the wrong time played a major role in upping the stakes for the main character?

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Where I Write

A little while ago, my writing buddy J. Thomas Ross wrote a post asking authors where they wrote. I didn’t have much to say on the topic at the time. After all, I wrote almost exclusively in my “writing office”—which is a fancy name for one corner of the sofa with the detritus of a three-year-old’s play spread around me in the family room.

Not so anymore. In fact, I am writing this in my car while I wait for the library to open. It is gray and rainy, the sound of the rain on the roof threatening to put me to sleep. Cars are good writing spaces, for short times. I wouldn’t want to spend hours writing in the car, but the hour while waiting for the library is comfortable enough.

But my main writing venue these days is the library. I get a fantastic amount of work done in the 6 hours a week my daughter is in preschool. I made the decision before she even began that I would go to the library to work while she was at school, rather than go home and work.

Why? Because by not going home, I could avoid the distractions that come with home: the laundry waiting to be done, the bathrooms needing washed, the rugs needing vacuumed, etc. Even though I work from home often (and have for 5 years), I cannot FULLY focus—those niggling things nibble at the edges of my mind, taking up energy as I push them away.

So I gained focus by not going home. I also gained more time. Instead of driving an extra half-hour round trip to get home and back to pick up my daughter, I drive a 6-minute round trip to the library and back to her school. That’s a lot of time saved!

More than that, I simply like the atmosphere of the library for writing. Since I write YA and middle grade, I head for the YA & Children’s section and park myself in the lone desk at the very back of the section. The stacks behind me are full of wonderful children’s books and I can practically feel the inspiration wafting from them. Perhaps I’m also hoping that I will gain proficiency and skill by osmosis!

“My” desk sits in front of a large window, so I can enjoy an outside view while inside. It is also for some reason always chilly there, but I don’t mind—it keeps me awake! My desk is far enough away from the children’s area that when they have group activities like Story Time, the noise of the children doesn’t bother me at all. Indeed, the sounds of children enjoying books is like soothing background music.

I know many writers work in coffeehouses or Wegman’s. I could not do that on a regular basis (although I have done it every once in a while). While I don’t need silence to write, I have sharp hearing, so I get distracted by people’s conversations nearby, or as they walk by, or any sudden change in the ambient noise level. I also have anxiety issues, which means that my brain is constantly on alert for danger and tends to see it even when there is none. So a place full of people is a drain on my energy and thus my creativity, because I am constantly having to tell my brain to stop it and focus on the writing.

So the library is perfect for me—quiet but not silent, people there but not on top of me, and no household chores weighing on my mind. I am eager to get to “my” desk every day, and always amaze myself with how much I accomplish.

What about you? Where do you usually write—and where’s the strangest place you have ever written?

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Breakthrough: Touching the Darkness Within

I had wondered, in a post last year, if perhaps my writing wasn’t as strong as it could be because I wasn’t reaching deep enough inside of myself. I wasn’t accessing the scary parts, the parts that trigger deep emotion. That perhaps I feared touching those raw, scary, dark parts of my psyche.

One of my “stretch” resolutions this year was to reach deeper—deeper into my characters and deeper into myself. And to try not to be afraid to do it. To see if I could touch the darkness within and emerge whole.

I didn’t realize when I made that resolution that I would be facing it so early in the year. I have a short story I’m working on, and I knew it would hit some vulnerable, raw parts of me. But I thought it was a good story, and one that needed telling, so I decided to write it anyway.

On Monday, I started the first draft. I wrote quickly at first, but as I got closer and closer to the heart of the matter, to the tender area, suddenly my internal saboteur popped up.

I NEEDED to check my email. Then Facebook. And I absolutely HAD to figure out how to program Outlook to alert me at a certain time (I failed to do that, by the way). When I next looked at the clock, I only had a couple of minutes left before I had to pack up. I decided to play Solitaire until I “ran out of time.” I knew exactly what was happening, but on Monday (following a long night up with a sick Toddler) I lacked the energy and focus to beat the saboteur down.

I’d danced on the fringe of my resolution, but I hadn’t faced it.

Tuesday I had to wait for the library to open, so I sat in my car and opened my story document. This time, I gritted my teeth and took the plunge. The words poured out—and so did the tears. Sitting in my car crying over my laptop, I was very glad I was not working in a public place like a coffeehouse!

Red-eyed but happy, I entered the library. I had faced the darkness and won!

So, is what I wrote any good? Will it make others feel as I felt? I don’t know yet. I’m going to let it sit until next Monday and revisit it. I know it needs some work. Then I’ll have some readers look at it.

All I know is that it came from someplace deep inside me, and I hope it touches someplace deep inside those who read it.

When was your first breakthrough when you wrote something that truly moved readers emotionally? How did it feel?

 

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The Internal Saboteur

We all know about the “internal critic” or “internal editor.” You know, the one who keeps telling us things like, “That comma doesn’t go there.” or “That’s the worst sentence ever written.” or “No one’s going to want to read the trash you’re writing.” And there are many blog posts out there dealing with how to turn him off or shut him down.

But what about your “internal saboteur”?

What? You’ve never heard of that one? Then pay attention, because he might be why you’re not moving forward as fast as you’d like.

The internal saboteur is not loud like the internal editor. Like most saboteurs, he prefers to work quietly and unnoticed. Subtle. Insidious.

The internal saboteur is why you stop working on a manuscript when you’re getting close to the end. He’s why you put off sending out those query letters. He’s why cleaning the bathroom suddenly seems more appealing than doing the final polish on your short story.

In short, he is every reason you procrastinate when you could actually be accomplishing something.

The internal saboteur is fear made manifest—but not fear of failure. He is fear of success.

That’s right, fear of SUCCESS.

Why would you be afraid of success? Because success means change, and change is very hard for a lot of people. Success in writing can mean a huge amount of change in a short amount of time, too, robbing us of the ability to ease into our new world slowly. The internal saboteur doesn’t want to deal with the change.

How to I know about the internal saboteur? I live with him every day. It’s no secret I wrestle with an anxiety disorder. This means everyday things can be incredibly difficult for me—just talking on the phone can break me out in sweat. My fear rises up every time I try to step out of my sheltered routine—to see a movie or go out to eat or see a concert or visit a friend. Simple things. Yet my fear will grab me, try to convince me that I am too ill or too tired to go out and do these things. That I don’t really want to. That it would be harmful to go. I must fight the physical symptoms of this fear and push ahead anyway. Live my life in spite of my internal saboteur.

Since he is so prevalent in my daily life, it comes as no surprise that my internal saboteur is hard at work in my writing life as well. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with me writing, per se (he leaves that to the inner critic). But once I have a piece written, he fights hard to make sure I never do anything productive with it. It becomes too great a chore to finish revising those last few chapters. I’m too tired to research agents to query, and I definitely need to nap instead of researching markets for the short story I wrote. I procrastinate, playing Solitaire over and over, finding other chores to do, or simply escaping into the rabbit-hole of genealogy research.

I know my internal saboteur when I see him. Sometimes it takes a few days, but I know the signs. And when I finally recognize him for what he is, I have to rally myself, kick him to the curb, and get on with the things I need to do to further my career.

One of my goals in 2013 is to recognize him earlier, to loosen his grip on my career. I spend my whole life beating him off with a stick so I can enjoy my life—I refuse to let him steal my writing career from me.

Take a look at what’s holding you back in your writing career. Are the obstacles real—or are they the constructs of your internal saboteur? Is it the OBJECTS that are insurmountable—or the FEAR?

Don’t let fear of success hold you back.

No matter what your internal saboteur says, you deserve success just as much as everyone else. Go and grab it.

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A New Adventure: A Novelist in Short Story Land

If you read this blog, you know that I’m a novelist. I think long and I like to use a lot of words. (My husband is nodding his head vigorously.) I never thought short stories would work for me. I had written some while getting my Masters’ degree, but they had been a struggle, so I shied away from them once I got out of school.

Recently, at the behest of Jonathan Maberry, I tried my hand at them again. And I like doing them! There are a lot of “scholarly” reasons I’m enjoying them (see my Tuesday post on The Author Chronicles for details), but I think the main reason I like them is that they are…short.

Don’t get me wrong, writing short is not easy. Short stories are an art form unto themselves, and the lessons you learn as a novel writer don’t always translate. But I have found the instant gratification (getting from first draft to polished in days rather than months—or years) very satisfying.

My writing friend Donna Galanti also said short stories keep her writing fresh. She’s right—it lets us appease that urge to follow the new, shiny idea (don’t look so innocent—you know what I’m talking about) without distracting us from our novel-length project for too long.

So, I’m using some of my newly found writing time to learn the craft of short stories. I have one that is ready to send out, with two more in the final stages of polishing. I’m taking some deep breaths and readying myself to send them out in the world.

The funny thing is, I am not so nervous about them being rejected as I am about the query process itself. It’s different than for novels, so I feel a bit out of my depth. Right now I feel like it’s my first day on the job and I’m nodding my head like I understand when I really have no clue. (Come on, you’ve all done it.)

But as my friend Keith Strunk would say, “fake it until you make it.” Because I know these “first day” jitters will pass with time and experience. Will my stories find homes? I don’t know, but I’m ready to find out.

It’s a new adventure! What new adventures are you embarking on?

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Preschool and the Craft of Character

My daughter started preschool this month. Hard to believe she’s old enough, but she is. Watching her go into that school all by herself was a little surreal. She was ready, though—she turned and gave me a big smile, that smile that showed she was proud of herself. And she should be—she’s handled the new routine very well.

The really weird thing for me is that now she has this entire facet of her life that I’m not a part of. Seven and a half hours a week where she’s “off stage” to me and I have no idea what’s going on with her. My toddler is no help, either. When you ask what she did in school, she says, “I don’t know.” Sometimes I think 3-year-olds are really teenagers in disguise.

The point I’m making (there really is one) is that my daughter’s “off stage” activities will change her as a person and will change the way she interacts with the world once I pick her up. This is the same with all of our characters—they all have a life “off stage” in our stories, too. Or they should.

The main character, and perhaps some of the other leading characters, don’t have much off-stage time. But some of the supporting, recurring characters do. We need to remember that their lives continue even when we don’t see them. Every time they show up in our book, they should be subtlely different. Perhaps one time they’ve had a fight with their other half, the next they’re late for work, the next they just learned that they got the job they’ve been wanting. They don’t need to have experienced a life-changing event to be different. Maybe they simply haven’t had their morning cup of coffee.

We need to remember this for every character we see more than once in the book—even our main character. If there is a scene where they are off stage, take a moment to think about what they are doing while this other scene is happening. Are they sleeping? Driving in a car frantic to get somewhere? Having lunch? Talking to mom on the phone? Once you know what they’ve been doing, you can introduce the results of their activities the next time we see them.

The reader need never know what our characters do off stage—honestly, they never should know, because if it was important enough for the reader to know we probably should have shown them in the first place. But keep in mind that whatever it was will affect how that character interacts with the others. If their off stage activity has made them irritable, show it. If it’s made them happy, show it.

By shading our recurring characters with the impacts of their off stage activities, we add depth to them and give the reader a sense that their lives go on even when we’re not watching. After all, that’s what we want the readers to believe when they close the book: That our characters are real people whose lives continue after the story ends.

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