Top 5 Reasons to Cultivate a Writing Community

This week, while preparing the Author Chronicles’ Top Picks Thursday, I read an article from an antisocial writer who really didn’t want to participate in the writing community. Many writers are introverts, so being hesitant about reaching out to others is understandable. I am a raging introvert myself, but when I think about the writing community I am part of, I cannot imagine pursuing this career alone. Here are 5 reasons why:

Craft – Your community can help you hone your craft before you spend money on editors. From critique partners to beta readers, they will give you honest feedback and handy tips to bring your craft to the next level.

Companionship – If you are like me, it takes a lot to drag you out of your house. Offer me a Writers’ Coffeehouse, a Philadelphia Writers’ Conference, a workshop, or a critique group, and I’m there. Plus, writers are good at being alone together. It is not uncommon in my area to find a group of writers sitting together at a Wegman’s or Starbucks, completely silent except for the  furious clicking of their keyboards.

Camaraderie – This is different than Companionship, in that it references the deeper emotional support we get from our writing community. Who but other writers understand the frustration of not finding the exactly right word, or the pain of being rejected for the 100th time, or the elation of placing your first story in even a little-known publication? The emotional lift we get from other writers revs us up and sends us back to our writer’s grottoes ready to face the next challenge.

Collaboration – Usually we think of this in the creative sense, where two or more writers work together on a project. A writing community certainly fosters this, because how else can you meet people to collaborate with? But there are other types of collaboration, such as helping you negotiate a publishing issue or brainstorm a marketing strategy. Two heads are very often better than one.

Connection – Our writing communities are an invaluable resource for networking. We can find editors, agents, publishers, experts, beta readers, critique partners, marketing opportunities and collaborators through our community. The community can help spread the word when we have a new book out. Our community keeps us abreast of the latest news in publishing, the latest scams to beware, and the latest accomplishments of our friends.

I am forever thankful for the people in my writing community: the Writers’ Coffeehouse, the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference, workshop-mates, and of course my critique partners. There are so many people who have cheered me on, cheered me up, and made this journey so much more enjoyable.

Walk this path alone? Inconceivable.

Critique Groups: A resource worth having

I know not every writer is a critique group fan. I fully understand why—there are critique groups that become useless echo chambers, ones that don’t actually lift the craft of their members, or that contain a toxic mix of people. But while there are bad groups, having a good one is invaluable.

I am in a small critique group. We’ve purposely kept it small because we all write novels. With too many people, it takes far too long to put a whole novel through a group. We also kept it small because that way we have flexibility in meeting times—we can find a date that works for everyone.

We are diverse in age range and in what we write. Our backgrounds, both in writing and in life, are also a mixed bag, which brings a variety of expertise into our knowledgebase. Our craft strengths also vary, which allows for a well-rounded critique when you take all of the feedback as a whole.

Personality is a big part of how the group meshes, and we have been lucky to gather a group that leaves their ego at the door. Every one of us is grateful for the feedback (even if we don’t agree with it), and we are also grateful for the kind manner in which the feedback is given. After all, you don’t need to tear someone apart to critique them. We have quite a bit of laughter in our meetings, because while we take our writing seriously, we can laugh at ourselves and our mistakes.

My assessment is that a good critique group is an invaluable resource. My novel THE WITCH OF ZAL went through the group and it would not have made it out of the slush pile without their input. Every month I learn something new about my craft and begin to see and understand ways to improve.

What has your experience with critique groups been?

Philadelphia Writers’ Conference: My Annual Oil Change

DSCN9802I’m sitting in the waiting room of my mechanic’s today while waiting for my oil change, and it occurs to me that the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference (PWC) is my annual oil change (and yes, I change my car oil more than once a year).

The PWC experience, for me, is like a whirlwind, fast and furious. During this whirlwind, all the stuff gunking up my creative system gets shaken up and flushed out. New advice helps me see past old assumptions. New craft lessons steer me farther up the artistic mountain. A casual conversation sparks an idea that carries me past someplace where I am stuck, either in business or craft—or sometimes even in a personal revelation about myself.

I eagerly look forward to the PWC every year. This will be my 5th year at this conference and it feels like home. I have a history of good things happening to me here, and always leave with some big takeaway.

As much as I love the PWC, I always get wound up in the days leading up to it. Objectively, I have no reason for anxiety, but we all know objectivity is overrated. My anxiety disorder always rears its ugly head and stress is the name of the game for days before the conference. (Apparently, I need to take my own advice—see tip #3.)

This year I tried to figure out why I get so triggered by the conference. I’m not staying in the hotel, so it’s not an away-from-home thing. I’m not planning on pitching (although I probably will because if I do it at the last minute I won’t get wound up about it—ahh, the lies we tell ourselves). I’m eager to take the courses. So what is it?

It’s just me. All my weaknesses hit at the same time. Being essentially away from home for 3 days makes me feel like I’m losing work time. I usually do a lot of work on the weekends, and the conference means I will start Monday behind the 8 ball. Being in the city freaks me out because I am totally not meant for urban dwelling—too loud, too many people. The conference itself is exhausting, with all the mixing and mingling. I get exhilarated from the people and the creativity at the conference, but as a classic introvert the effort drains me. And it’s just being out of my routine. A person with anxiety likes control—or the illusion of control. So I tend to be highly routinized. The conference is anything but routine. New place, new people, new ideas. So much of it out of my control.

ANYTHING can happen.

That’s the scary part.

That’s the wonderful part.

And that’s why I keep going back.

 

AC at the PWC***See you at the PWC! I’ll be blogging nightly recaps over on The Author Chronicles.

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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TMI: The More I Learn about Craft, the Less I Know

I’m sure I’m not the only writer in the world to get overwhelmed by the millions of little things we have to think about in every single sentence in our novel. Every time I feel like I’m getting a handle on this writing stuff, I learn something new and that gets added to the list of things to check for in my manuscript.

Don’t get me wrong—most of the time this constant learning curve is what I love about the writing craft. You never do stop learning, and most of the time I love that. I also usually love the challenge of trying to get to that next level with your writing, or making this novel better than the last. Most of the time I can’t wait to dive in and get started.

Most of the time.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit defeated by the whole thing. Perhaps it’s midwinter blues, or just the exhaustion that comes with being a 40-something mom-of-a-toddler who hasn’t had eight hours of sleep at night in about three years. Whatever it is, I have felt less like a mountain climber and more like one who has been caught in an avalanche.

I will bet every writer has felt this way at some point in their career. In fact, I found this eloquent and encouraging post by Stephen Parolini that addresses this very feeling.

I have been taking workshops, and what I have been learning has been fascinating. So many nuanced techniques to use in my writing, the mechanics of which I am still learning. So many details to track while I write. There are times lately where I feel like I will have to revise my manuscript a hundred times just so I can make sure all those details are in order. Which in turn makes me feel like I will never finish said manuscript. Which is a little depressing.

Overwhelming.

So much to do, so much I WANT to do with my manuscript, and so little time. Part of my feeling of eternal revision is that my writing time is incredibly limited due to my toddler’s demands on my time. So all these millions (okay, thousands) of things I want to track and check and try with my manuscript seem to stretch before me in a stream with no end.

It’s enough to paralyze me.

But, as whenever I get overwhelmed in other areas of life, I know that the only way to the end is through. In theory, giving up is an option, of course. But not in my world. Some would say I am stubborn, but I prefer to consider myself persistent.

So to get through this funk, I will work on one thing at a time. And if that means doing a hundred passes on my manuscript so I can give everything the attention I need, I will do it. I know, too, that the more I work on these skills, the more ingrained they will become. As they become second nature, they will show up in my manuscripts without my having to think so hard or revise so much.

In a word, my plan to get through this funk is to write. How do you get through your funks?

The Best Laid Plans

In an earlier post about juggling multiple projects, I said the switching back and forth every other day between two stories was working for me.

Not so much anymore.

I’ve put the middle grade on the back burner and have focused on the YA fantasy for the past week. I tried to figure out what it was that disrupted my lovely balancing act. Part of the reason is that I have always preferred focusing on a single project to completion before starting another—that allows me to immerse myself in the details of the project in a visceral way. I can live, breathe, and dream it.

The other part, the “craft” part, is that I am in two very different stages in the manuscripts. In the middle grade, I am writing what is essentially a heavily revised first draft. The YA is in its fourth major revision, and is getting close to being query-ready. So while I needed to plot, character, and write from scratch in one manuscript, in the other I needed to search for –ing words and other grammar issues, as well as incorporate the latest feedback from my wonderful beta readers.

Of course, I certainly could have chosen to continue bouncing between the two. I have often juggled more than one project in my video editing life and created products the clients loved. But, because I did not have deadlines to meet, I chose to focus on a single project to completion, especially since “changing gears” between those two very different skill sets seemed inefficient. Since I have less than 3 hours a day to write, the time it took to get “into the groove” of each mindset felt like lost time to me.

The final deciding factor, though, was the closeness of the finish line. As I reached the last 25% of the YA revision, I could smell the end of the book. I could see the words “The End” emblazoned on the horizon. I wanted to get there, gain that feeling of accomplishment, revel in the knowledge that the manuscript was one step closer to being query-ready.

People reward themselves in different ways when they reach their writing goals. Some put money in a jar, to be used for fun when the project is fully complete. That doesn’t work for me. Some people give themselves “me” time. Well, I have an 18-month-old—all my “me” time is taken up with writing.

So how do I reward myself? It might sound completely pretentious, but my reward really is the exhilaration I feel when I accomplish my goal. I actually get giddy. It is a moment when I have proven to myself that I can do what I set out to do. It lifts my spirits and gives me confidence that I can do it again—and again. As often as needed. That soaring moment when I can’t wipe the smile off my face and my eyes feel like they are literally sparkling is all the reward I need.

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