Writing Through The Dark… Or Not

 Writing Through The Dark… Or Not

By Cathy Perkins

One of the mantras you hear a lot if you’re an author is you can’t wait around waiting for that drunken hussy of a writing muse to show up for work. Instead, it’s BICHOK. You have to put Butt In Chair, Hands On Keyboard.

There are, of course, dozens of reasons this is true. Writing is, after all, a craft. Part of improving is doing. Practicing. Challenging yourself in new ways. Putting the words on that page.

So why are so many of us staring at a blinking cursor, if we even heave our protesting butts into the chair? Why are we cursing at that cursor?

I considered this last night during my 3 AM round of insomnia.

Sleep deprivation is an easy target. Lack of sleep has been linked to poor cognitive performance. This includes a laundry list of negative attributes including poor focus and concentration, low creativity, erratic behavior, inability to multitask, and increased mistakes. While there is a clamor about “creative insomnia” these days, the sad truth is we need sleep—and that’s before we explore the myriad ways sleep deprivation messes with the rest of our bodies.

What if you’re getting enough sleep? Or you’re trying to get enough sleep? Maybe you have to look a little deeper. Maybe it’s time to acknowledge the stressors underlying that lack of sleep.

Stress.

Interestingly enough, a number of the articles I read about creativity and stress actually focused on the role of a creative outlet in reducing stress. But as I explored this topic, the preferred “creative outlets” stressed repetitive motions: walking, gardening, talking with friends, activities that are too often curtailed these days by COVID-19-induced isolation and bitter winter cold.

Isolation. Cold. COVID-19. Darkness. Now those are some major stressors.

As I read more, I found useful discussions about psychological safety that doesn’t create crippling performance pressure. Basically, you need to let go of forcing yourself to “be creative.” If you’re already stressed, those threats simply trigger more fight or flights reactions—the most primitive, least creative part of your brain. Instead of demanding creativity, relax. Tell yourself, what if…

Let’s play around with this idea…

Of course, these articles also advocated, you guessed it, stress reducing activities like walking, gardening, and talking with friends. Or “going to your happy place” such as a favorite coffee shop or roaming a museum or art gallery.

Yeah, I’m looking forward to those creative inciting activities too.

In the meanwhile, the helpful ideas include:

1) Meditate. Calm your mind.

2) Walk. Get outside if possible. Let your mind relax.

3) Read. Turns out it’s a stress buster.

4) De-clutter. Research says decluttering your workspace can also clear your head.

5) Live life. Winter and COVID will end. Go enjoy every minute.  

An award-winning author of financial mysteries, Cathy Perkins writes twisting dark suspense and light amateur sleuth stories.  When not writing, she battles with the beavers over the pond height or heads out on another travel adventure. She lives in Washington with her husband, children, several dogs and the resident deer herd.  Visit her at http://cperkinswrites.com or on Facebook 

Sign up for her new release announcement newsletter in either place.

She's hard at work on Peril in the Pony Ring, the sequel to The Body in the Beaver Pond, which was recently presented with the Killer Nashville's Claymore Award. 

Spark

by J.M. Phillippe

Sometimes, I feel stuck. Sometimes, all I have in me is a stream of consciousness dump...

I am fumbling for words, searching my memory for rich sensory details, imagery and metaphor, a perfect picture painted with perspicacity, brought forth from my fertile imagination. 

I am new again, raw, an amateur who is just barely beginning to understand what creative writing is. I am spilling out consciousness on the page in rambling streams of poorly relayed emotion. Write what you know, but what do I know, anyway? What stories are mine to tell?

Oh, and I thought I was dark before, thought I had some sense of loss or grief, of the thousand natural shocks, but I am only a Horatio, battered witness of the twists and turns all around me. Transferred trauma, and they tell me to take care, but care has been taken to take such time away. I have no time. I have no energy to use what time I have.

I don’t take the time. I don’t spare the energy.

I sleep too much and not enough.

I fall back on the old words, the easy words. It was a dark and stormy night. Suddenly, a shot rings out. Once upon a time, in a land far far away. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Call me Ishmael.

In the room the women come and go, talking of Michaelangelo. And how should I presume?

All words are old, all words used so many times already. Should I dig up my vocabulary books, reacquaint myself with the archaic and obsolete, so that I may impress myself with my own prolix prose? 

And the seven (less or more?) great plot lines continue to unfold, over and over, and as Aimee Mann sings, “But nobody wants to hear this tale, The plot is clichéd, the jokes are stale, And baby we’ve all heard it all before.”

The only thing that’s mine is my voice. The only thing that can be new, the only thing that could make a story I tell different than any other.

But my voice needs words.

Words words words.

Lost in page counts, lost in deadlines, lost in pressures and anxieties floating all around me like ash, so thick it coats you, so thick it chokes you.

But even in the ash, a spark may fly, a tiny flake of potential floating on eddies, looking for the right tinder to settle on, the right wind to blow, and kindle standing by, waiting to burn.

I am a pile of kindle, ready to burn. I am waiting for my spark to find me.

***

J.M. Phillippe is the author of Perfect Likeness and the short story The Sight. She has lived in the deserts of California, the suburbs of Seattle, and the mad rush of New York City. She works as a family therapist in Brooklyn, New York and spends her free-time decorating her tiny apartment to her cat Oscar Wilde’s liking, drinking cider at her favorite British-style pub, and training to be the next Karate Kid, one wax-on at a time.

The Perfect Soundtrack

by J.M. Phillippe

Living in New York City, headphones are a necessity. They not only help you pass the time on long commutes, providing your own soundtrack protects you from the more...natural soundtrack of life in the city. I like an up beat while walking to work, something that quickens my pace to keep time to it. Mellow music makes a bus ride home nice and reflective. 

Progress notes, the bane of every social worker's existence, are made tolerable by a lovely oldies playlist I can sing along to. Even housecleaning, a chore I have loathed since childhood, can be gotten through best with a good music mix.

And there is not a single novel, story, or even blog post I haven't gotten through without a playlist. In fact, my first novel, Perfect Likeness, pulled heavily from the music I was listening to as I wrote it. Sometimes, finding the perfect song can make or break the chapter I am working on. If I want to write something fast-paced and action filled, heavy bass and little words helps me find the right flow to move the scene along. Songs that make me sad help me get in the right head space for those moments in a story where I need to go deep.

Music is the only actual cure I know for writer's block (besides not leaving the blank page until there is something, however bad you may think it is, on it). I have been known to put down a song lyric as a starting point, a way to get the creative juices flowing. In fact, some stories owe their existence to a lyric I couldn't get out of my head.

I used to collect soundtracks, back when people would still buy CDs. I loved them because they were carefully curated playlists that helped move a greater story along. Some of my favorite movies are also my favorite soundtracks: Dirty Dancing, O Brother Where Art Thou, Singles, Forest Gump -- just to name a few. Without their soundtracks, those movies wouldn't even exist, and certainly not stand out in our minds the way they do.

Books don't come with their own soundtracks, though I often think they should (if the copyright issues could be worked out). If you had to pick songs to go with the book you are currently writing or reading, what would they be?

***

J.M. Phillippe is the author of Perfect Likeness and the newly released short story The Sight. She has lived in the deserts of California, the suburbs of Seattle, and the mad rush of New York City. She worked as a freelance journalist before earning a masters’ in social work. She works as a family therapist in Brooklyn, New York and spends her free-time decorating her tiny apartment to her cat Oscar Wilde’s liking, drinking cider at her favorite British-style pub, and training to be the next Karate Kid, one wax-on at a time.

Putting on the Sequel Panties

by Bethany Maines

As my writing goal for this year, I am determined to get my third book in the Carrie Mae series fully outlined and at least one draft done.  Carrie Mae (for those who haven’t picked up Bulletproof Mascara or Compact with the Devil) is the at home make-up sales company that is a front for an international, all-female, espionage organization.  And my heroine Nikki Lanier is one of their top agents.  My original plan for the series involves 5 books, but life (marriage, new business, new baby, changing book deals) has managed to delay my production speed. I made this goal in January and as of Sunday had made zero progress toward that goal.  Every time I went to open up my notes I got pissy and decided to do something else.  It got so bad, that I actually did the dishes one day instead of working on my outline. If you knew me at all that’s like saying I decided to have root canal instead of going on vacation.

So Monday night I gave myself a stern little talking to and opened my notes.  I can’t imagine going through someone else’s writing notes and attempting to make sense out of them. Going through my own notes is like trying to track an elusive animal through the underbrush.  I followed the traces of my own thoughts and began to realize that I was further along than I remembered.  My outline was more complete and my research was fairly cohesive.  But just as I remembered what I’d been planning to write, I also remembered why I stopped. 

The first problem I had was that my plot involves pot smuggling on the Canadian border and Washington State just legalized plot.  Thanks a lot Washington.  Thanks for deciding that if the medical research indicates that pot isn’t all that dangerous maybe we should stop spending money on prosecuting people and also try to make money off of it.  Or in other words, thanks for making my writing life more difficult.

The second problem was more emotional. As I had been working through the plot I came into a strategy conflict with my writer’s group.  They thought the novel was a too much of a leap ahead in my story arcs and wanted at least one short story before the book to fill the gap. I wasn’t convinced they were right and, even worse, I wasn’t convinced they were wrong.  The more we discussed the matter, the less certain I became.  And of course the more uncertain I was, the more grumpy I became about the whole project.  So then I put it aside to “think” about it.  Which is writer code “I give up.”

But now I’m back, dang it.  I refuse to give up on my characters! I will revisit the advice from my writer’s group.  I will put on my big girl panties and make some decisions.  Because if I can’t dictate what my fictional characters are going to do with their lives then I’m not much of a writer now am I?

Bethany Maines is the author of the Carrie Mae Mystery series and Tales from the City of Destiny. You can also view the Carrie Mae youtube video or catch up with her on Twitter and Facebook.

Writing - Bah Humbug and Future Promises

Writing - Bah Humbug and Future Promises by Debra H. Goldstein

The holidays are over.  The Christmas music that began playing on my favorite radio station in November has changed back to easy listening.  Although the station will probably have a Christmas in July weekend, it is pretty safe to say the songs, tinsel, advertising, and holiday spirit are gone.  Bah humbug has returned.  It feels pretty good.

No, I’m not Scrooge.  I actually like the kindness and gentle spirit that is attached to the holiday season.  I love to see the lit candles of Chanukah twinkle.  I enjoy watching shelter children picking out presents for their parents while their parents choose toys for them at the Birmingham YWCA’s Santa’s Workshop or volunteering to help meet a family’s wishes through the Angel Tree or Temple’s Adopt A Family Program.  My issue is that I don’t like to be banged over the head with this “spirit” only in November and December.  I prefer the year ‘round approach.

I often wish I could apply my all year charitable approach to my writing.  I envy the person who sits down and writes a set number of words a day.  For me, trying to write is very similar to enjoying the holidays.  I write in sprints – easily distracted by the music and lights of everyday living.  When the writing is going well, I celebrate joyously and concentrate on the work.  When my ideas aren’t fresh or exciting or I’ve received a rejection letter, I find it far easier to lounge in front of the television than my computer or to pick up pen and paper.  

In the past, I’ve been a master of excuses as to why I’m not writing.  Excuses like I need to be in the mood (compare this to the holiday spirit), my office is upstairs and I don’t feel like going up the steps, or I would write in a notebook but then I would have to transcribe my thoughts to a computer.  Other excuses for the notebook could be a) if I leave it lying around the neighbor’s dog might eat my work, b) if I put the notebook down, I may forget where I put it, or c) if I close the notebook I may not find the page I wrote on again.  

I really wonder what excuses others use and what is the motivation that helps one write consistently?  My next blog will not appear until 2014. In anticipation of it and the New Year, I want to resolve to apply the year ‘round approach to my writing.  It isn’t going to be easy.  How do you do it?  Will you help me or join me in this New Year’s resolution?

Whether we succeed or not, may 2014 be a happy, healthy and prosperous year for you and yours.
                                                                       ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Debra H. Goldstein is the author of Maze in Blue, a murder mystery set on the University of Michigan's campus in the 1970's.  Her short story, "A Political Cornucopia" was the November Bethlehem Writers Roundtable featured story.    

Writer's Block--Do You Suffer From it?

I just read a really good blog about writer's block and though I left a comment I really wanted to write more so thought I'd do it here.

Though I don't really suffer from writer's block, I do procrastinate about clicking on Word and my latest work in progress. Instead, I check my e-mail, read posts on Facebook and write one or two, read some blogs I'm following, and maybe write a blog or two.

Though I don't work outside the house, I do some writing jobs that bring in money and if I have one of those, it will always come first. (Yes, my books bring in money, but not right away like some other things I do.)

If there is some housework jobs I really need to do, I'll probably do them before I write. One of the reasons I do that comes from my bringing up--mom made sure we'd done all of our work before we did something fun. And since writing is something I truly enjoy, I don't feel right doing it until all the more tedious jobs are done. (Funny how moms can still influence us even when we're really old--and in my case, mom has gone on to her heavenly reward.)

Fortunately, I long ago figured out a way to not have a problem knowing what to write when I finally do open up that work in progress and that's to stop in the middle of a scene, that way I know exactly what to write next.

Another trick is to go back and read what you wrote last making it easier to just continue on when you get to the blank place.

I truly love writing and with the book I'm working on now I have so many ideas for it they are spilling out of my brain. What I should do is change my schedule completely and write first--then do all the other things that need to be done. I'll try, but I don't think my many years of training and habit will let me.

I know a lot of you do your writing at night. Wish I could, but by evening I'm done. Brain is no longer functioning well enough to do anything challenging like writing.

Do you have trouble with writer's block? If so, what's your cure?

Marilyn

Writer's Block

I’m dealing with an intense case of writer’s block. I am so fearful of putting pen to paper that I have started and stopped writing this week’s blog about fifty times. (Wait until I finish the first one I started on television shows…that will surely put you to sleep and make you hope that my writers’ block continues for a long, long time.) I have been reading Evelyn’s daily recaps of Mayhem and wondering how in the heck she’s going to seminars all day long and then coming back to write. (And actually making sense, to boot.) So instead of wallowing in my writer’s block haze, I’ll describe some of the things that I do to counteract writer’s block and see if any of them speak to you fellow writers out there.

1. I perform the “one-woman show.” It is performed by one woman—me—and viewed by one being—my dog. (Except for the time I didn’t realize the contractor had come back to sand the spackle that he had put on the walls. He is still talking about how much he enjoyed my rendition of “Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue.”) It consists of dancing, some singing, and the occasional monologue, the general subject being “Why Can’t I Write Today?” Interpretative dance with lip-syncing usually opens the show—seen bi-weekly in my attic, or more frequently depending on when a manuscript is due—with Chaka Khan’s “I’m Every Woman” being a personal favorite to get things rolling. The end of the show usually consists of a slightly out-of-breath blocked writer falling into her desk chair and turning off her computer with the one finger that she can still use after all of the gyrations that went on during the one-woman show.

2. I read every cookbook I have, cover to cover, searching for that perfect coq au vin recipe. I haven’t actually made coq au vin yet because I usually get so hungry reading the cookbooks that I end up walking into town for a chicken salad on rye.

3. I call every friend I have who I know will either be at their desk at work or at home. Most of them have caller ID now and don’t answer the phone when they see my number come up.

4. I read. But not anything that is similar to what I write because I fear that I will start sounding like someone else. So, I read the manuals that came with my stove, dishwasher, and dryer; the tags on my pillows (some of which I have ripped off, despite their warnings); the back of shampoo bottles (there’s a lot more on there besides ‘lather, rinse, and repeat,’ you know); and papers that I’ve already read. I know a lot about what happened last week, but sadly, not enough about what’s going on right now.

5. I shop online. And yes, I do realize that if my writer’s block continues, I won’t be able to shop online because I won’t have an income. Interesting conundrum, yes?

6. I watch television. Interestingly, I just took a break from writing this blog and turned on the Food Network where, much to my surprise and delight, Anthony Bourdain (who I love about as much as anyone can love a chef who eats gross things for a living) was talking about writer’s block. He was sitting in front of his computer typing the words “chicken and ribs…chicken and ribs…chicken and ribs…” over and over again while attempting to write an article on his trip to St. Martin. God bless you, Anthony Bourdain for letting me know that I am not alone.

So, what do you do? I know what Evelyn does and I know what the writers in my writers’ group do, but I’m interested to hear your coping mechanisms. And if anyone writes back with the advice to just “shut up and write,” I promise you will receive an unflattering characterization in my next book. It might be just the thing to end my writer’s block, though.

Maggie Barbieri