Kerry Gans Archives - Page 48 of 57

Devaluing Ourselves

April 4, 2013 By Kerry Gans 4 Comments

Humans are strange beings. We are forever envying what other people can do. Whether it is another writer’s success or that mom who always seems to have it all together, we always find something we wish we had or wish we could do as well as someone else. I don’t know if it is cultural or human, but this envy seems to be everywhere.

Here in America, we seem to feel that if we can do something easily, it has no value. Just think of the terms we use: we “earn” our paycheck at “work.” If we don’t have to struggle at it, then it’s not work, right? If we don’t have to work hard, then we haven’t “earned” anything, so what we did must not have value.

That thinking is false.

We all have skills—things we do more easily and better than others. Some of these skills are innate; some are learned. But all of us excel at something. It is ironic, then, that the very things we are good at are often the very things we devalue.

A few weeks ago, at my 25th high school reunion, we held a dedication ceremony for the new doors my class financed as their reunion gift to the school. We dedicated the doors to my best friend, Donna Hanson Woolman, who died of cancer 10 years ago. Along with speaking about Donna, I created a photo montage to show.

The number of people who cried at the montage shocked me.

Many people came up to me afterward and told me how wonderful it was, and what a good job I had done. I nodded and said, “Thank you,” but I was flummoxed. A photo montage, for me, is nothing. It is simple. I have been in video production for nearly as long as I have been out of high school. So to have people so moved and impressed by it felt a bit—embarrassing.

But it did make me understand, perhaps for the first time, that while we are busy admiring others’ skills, there are other people admiring ours. Putting together a photo montage for me is a few hours of work—for others it would be nearly impossible. Writing a blog post (once I have a topic) takes about half an hour. For others, it would take days.

We all have skills, either learned or innate. While we will never totally vanquish envy, when we feel particularly envious maybe we should stop and look at our own skills. We should remind ourselves that the person we are envying might be envying us our skills. Just because we find something easy or fun does not make it less of a skill.

We need to stop devaluing ourselves.

We all have gifts.

Our gifts have value—and so do we.

Contents and Endnotes and Index, Oh My!

March 28, 2013 By Kerry Gans 2 Comments

I’m embarking on a new venture—non-fiction. It’s a whole new world.

As you may know, I am heavily into genealogy. Several years ago, I compiled all my data into a prose format to distribute to my father’s family (I’m still working on writing out my mother’s). Now, I have more information, and I am updating the book. But this time, I am working on it with an eye towards a wider audience.

Now, I know that genealogy books do not appeal to the general public. However, to that sleuth searching for their family, for that one missing link, a book about their line is pure gold. I cannot thank enough the people who have helped me on my quest, nor can I fully describe the joy of finding a treasure trove of well-documented information.

I want to give others that “family tree high.”

My intention is to fully source the book with endnotes and citations, so anyone reading the book will know the primary source of the information. Wherever possible, I will include pictures and scans of those sources. And I will put it online for as reasonable cost as I can so that others can access the information easily. I also intend to donate copies to local historical societies and/or libraries with genealogical collections. I want this information to be found.

But writing this book is much harder work than I thought.

Not the content itself—writing about each family lineage and couple is pretty easy, as it is chronological and all the information is right in front of me in my genealogical database. It’s the rest of the book that’s making me a little nuts. Like the Table of Contents. And Endnotes. And Index. Oh my.

My version of Word (2007) insists on creating my Table of Contents for me. Which would be very nice if I could figure out how to do that. It’s got something to do with “Styles,” but I have yet to get the details right. I need to sit down and figure it out because once I do, Word will supposedly update the Table of Contents as page numbers change. But so far it has been a headache and I long for the days of the old Word where I could do it myself without my computer freaking out and trying to think for me!

The Endnotes are fairly easy—soooo much easier than on a typewriter!—but I had forgotten what a pain it is to cite every fact on a page. Haven’t done that since my Master’s Degree ten years ago. However, citing everything has been a wonderful way of double-checking my sources within my own database and finding holes I still need documents to fill.

Then there’s the index. What a Herculean task! As far as I know, there is no shortcut to doing this in Word. I have to go through each page of the manuscript and enter each name into my Index database, along with the page number. And if I end up adding or deleting things and those page numbers change, what a headache to go in and fix! If anyone out there has and helpful hints at this, please leave them in the comments.

So there you have it—my latest project. It’s growing alongside my fiction works-in-progress. I’m juggling this book project, two fiction WIPs, several short stories, the weekly blogging, and querying for a third fiction project. I’m kinda busy! But I prefer having multiple projects—it keeps me from getting burned out.

Do you switch between fiction and non-fiction? Does it help keep you balanced?

Sick Days

March 21, 2013 By Kerry Gans Leave a Comment

If you are self-employed and/or a stay-at-home parent, you know that sick days are a myth. First as a video editor and then as a writer, I have worked through fever, colds, and stomach bugs. After all, if you don’t work, you don’t get paid. It’s that simple.

Any stay-at-home parent knows that you don’t get the day off unless you are at death’s door. Your kid needs what she needs when she needs it. I know I am always reluctant to ask my spouse to take off from work when I’m sick. After all, the parent job is much more important than the writing, and I do that even when sick. Besides, he has his job and I have mine, so I soldier on whenever possible. I even avoid taking my temperature when I think I have a fever, because I subscribe to the Schrödinger’s cat theory of illness: If I don’t measure the fever, I don’t really have one.

But it’s all different when it’s your kid that’s sick.

I can’t tell my 3-year-old to soldier on when she’s getting sick at 5 AM. I can’t tell her Mommy’s busy when all my feverish girl wants is to be held. A normally productive day grinds to a halt when she falls asleep in my arms for hours, or when her fever is so high she cries while I hug her and we wait for the medication to work. My daughter needs me, and the rest of the world—including this blog—has to wait.

And that is how it should be.

Cuddling my little girl, feeling her radiating heat, reminds me what’s really important in life. Comforting my sobbing child is a calling more urgent by far than any blog post or writing assignment. I know that it will not be long before a simple hug won’t stop her pain, and there will come a time when I will not be there to hug her. So I cherish these moments when I have this magic power to protect her, to make her feel better, to heal her with nothing more than a hug, a kiss, and my love. Because that time passes far too soon.

So that is why I have no urbanely witty and deeply philosophical writing-related blog post today. And I’m sure it won’t be the last time life gets in the way of a post. But without life, we wouldn’t have anything to write about, so it’s all good.

A Writer’s Thick Skin: Do We Need One?

March 14, 2013 By Kerry Gans 10 Comments

There’s been a lot of talk on the Internet lately about the need to have “a thick skin” if you are going to be a writer. After all, being a writer comes with a ton of rejection and a necessary amount of critique. Nothing you write will ever be perfect, and nothing you write will be loved by everyone who reads it. These facts are part of the job description.

Kristen Lamb tells us we need a thick skin, while Rachelle Gardner makes the case that we don’t. Jody Hedlund ignores the thickness of skin altogether and talks about the unnecessary shame involved in getting feedback.

They all have good points, but I think the key to developing a so-called thick skin isn’t in strengthening your epidermis, but in changing the way we approach criticism and rejection. A thick skin simply means we can take a beating and keep on going—but have we learned anything worthwhile from the beating?

I didn’t always take criticism well. I mean, I never screamed at anyone or anything like that, but it hurt a lot when my work wasn’t up to snuff. The first time my Master’s degree advisor ripped apart my work, I was nearly in tears. I suspect that part of this reaction is that I was a very good student in school. I was used to getting all A’s. To be told that my work was not an A was rather unprecedented, and I had no coping mechanism in place.

So I learned to cope. I turned around the way I looked at the red marks splashed on the page. Instead of seeing them as glaring testaments to my worthlessness, I looked at them as a challenge: every red mark was a place I could improve my story. Once I changed my outlook from a negative (“I suck”) to a positive (“look at how much better my story can be”), the ouch factor of criticism lessened considerably.

This doesn’t mean that when I get a bleeding critique back I do a dance of joy. I get down in the dumps like everyone else. The task can seem monumental. Overwhelming. But in the end it becomes exciting, because each change is an opportunity to learn something new about our craft, and the results of the changes are instantaneous: you can actually feel the story growing stronger.

I admit that revision fits my personality. I love to learn—and honing our writing offers endless opportunities to try something new, to push ourselves higher, or to master a nuance of the craft. I am also by nature a troubleshooter: I love to fix things. When I was a video editor, I was the go-to gal when a system wasn’t working. Tracking down and fixing the problem thrilled me. The same goes for my writing. Figuring out what the problem is, and then finding the solution is an adrenaline rush.

So, back to the thick skin. Do you need one? I don’t think so. Becoming impervious brings with it the risk of becoming immune to the helpful criticism as well as the bad (and there is bad criticism out there that should simply be ignored). I think Jody hit it on the head that our task is not to grow rhino skin, but to change the way we approach criticism altogether.

What do you think? Do we need a thick skin to survive as writers or not?

Overload Paralysis

March 7, 2013 By Kerry Gans 3 Comments

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?

Senseless Description: When Your Writing Doesn’t Feel Real

February 28, 2013 By Kerry Gans 8 Comments

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?

How Books Can Bridge the Polarized Communication Gap

February 21, 2013 By Kerry Gans Leave a Comment

I have become increasingly concerned about our inability to communicate across differences in America. People decide upon an opinion or stance and then stick to it no matter what facts come to light to show the contrary view is correct. It started in the political arena, but it has spread to the general population—this belief that if you change your mind based on new evidence you are somehow weak.

The view that it is a weakness to change your opinion or belief based on rational thought and evidence defies logic. It is not a sign of weakness, but of strength. Only a person who thinks independently can be willing to grow and change in their worldview, and only a person of strong character can graciously admit that they were wrong initially and changed their minds. The entire basis of the rational scientific process is based on this idea that a hypothesis is made based on current evidence, but can be revised when new evidence presents itself. That’s not weakness, that’s progress.

But people today seem afraid to even listen to the other side’s view—afraid that they might hear something to make them question their beliefs or opinions. It is a fact that people tend to listen to news sources and read articles that support their beliefs rather than challenge them. People remember the bits and pieces of an event that support what they believe and forget the rest. That seems to be the way people are wired, and no amount of shouting or data from the other side is going to change what they believe.

So how can this communication gap be crossed? If people will not listen to facts, if they will not listen at all to the other side, how can people be reached?

Experience. People don’t like their worldview threatened. But if they experience something that shakes them, they may see the world differently after that. We’ve all been through experiences in our lives that have profoundly changed us for better or worse. Job loss, personal loss, marriage, children. We change the way we think when we experience something emotionally.

This is where books come in. I am not talking about non-fiction books full of data, but novels. Good novels draw a reader in. They allow the reader to experience what life is like for the protagonist. When the reader finishes the book, a really good novel leaves them thinking about ideas and questions they hadn’t considered before. Most of us have read To Kill A Mockingbird in school, and most of the people I know count it as either a favorite book or as one that touched them deeply. We’ve all had books like that in our lives.

This is how the polarization can be neutralized. I think one reason people don’t want to change their mind is the fear that they will lose face by being “defeated” by their opponent. A book doesn’t have that social fear attached. If a book changes your mind, you can claim you came to the decision yourself—which you have—and not been coerced by the other side.

Thinking for oneself is the ultimate freedom. Our culture today seems to discourage that and just want everyone to accept sound bites and celebrity shenanigans as “important news.” Don’t fall for it. Talk to the people on the other side. Failing that, read about them. Read outside your normal zone, stretch your mind into corners of the world you never even knew existed. This is the strength of books—they empower you. This is why the first thing most totalitarian governments do is burn the books or limit access to them. Books are dangerous. They allow people to think for themselves. They allow people to experience a world outside the accepted dictatorship.

Books are freedom.

Be free.

Read.

What books have you read that changed the way you see the world?

Life Transitions

February 14, 2013 By Kerry Gans 2 Comments

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?

The Revision Exercise Regimen

February 7, 2013 By Kerry Gans Leave a Comment

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!

Authors: Helping kids and teens find their voice

January 31, 2013 By Kerry Gans Leave a Comment

In the US, “civil discourse” seems to have become a thing of the past. Pick any issue you like—the economy, gay rights, guns, etc.—and look at the media coverage. Most likely, you will see the most polarizing views splashed across the headlines. The extremes on both sides are the loudest, so they get the microphone. Those of us in the middle rarely get heard.

In the media and in politics, our world is increasingly painted as black-and-white, us-versus-them, my-way-or-the-highway. But this is not the real world. The real world is full of nuance, full of people who fall somewhere between the two extremes—people who would like to be heard but cannot get a voice.

Authors can be that voice. Authors tackle the hard subjects and are able to bring out the nuances, the shades of gray, the hard compromises that so many people face on a daily basis. Authors can speak to and for the people in the middle, the vast silent majority that think the extremes on both sides have gone nuts.

Nowhere is this authorial speaking more important than in middle grade and YA literature. It gives voice to the most voiceless among us—the children (and, yes, teens are still children in many respects). Young children in our culture are often taught to be seen and not heard, to obey without thought, and to conform to our societal norms without question. But children have things to say. They see things differently from adults. They may not conform to our expectations, and then what? Then they feel lost and rejected and alone.

Children’s authors can help these kids find a voice, understand themselves, and know that they aren’t alone. Authors can help open up a dialogue, get kids to understand people different from themselves.

Teaching children that their opinion matters and that they can speak up is a positive and powerful message. Whether it’s speaking up against a bully or against the horrible food in the school cafeteria, children should be encouraged to think for themselves and speak for themselves. If we instill this in our children at a young age, the effect on them as adults might be striking.

If we teach kids to speak up yet speak with respect, to allow others to have opinions different from them yet still be able to work together, to understand that they do count and what they think does matter, we might begin to negate the polarized world we live in. We might have a middle that can be heard. We might have a new generation that understands how to discuss and debate without vitriol. We might have a generation who will turn out to vote in elections. We might have a generation who can find the middle ground on the hard issues and actually fix things.

We might raise kids that can change the world. All we have to do is help them find their voice.

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