Time to write

Having time to write after a long writing hiatus is like ... it's ... well ... I don't have a good analogy. Damn. What I do have is a very tidy apartment. I have a desk clear of everything but the essentials of what I'm working on right now and the tools I need to work on it. The "work," meaning the writing ... not going so well.

Actually, it's not going at all.

It's the curse of all the time in the world. Of course, I don't actually have all the time in the world, I have less than three weeks until semester starts again, so I know I will eventually get around to the whole writing fiction thing again soon. But in the meantime it's amazing how quickly my apartment can get clean. Which of course makes me feel like a slob for letting it slide for the past four months. Ah well, hindsight.

For now the goal is to keep the apartment this clean and tidy -- not make it cleaner, no seriously, it doesn't need to be cleaner, stop, put down the sponge now -- and get into the swing of writing. Writing a lot. Lots of a lot. Not just hours a day but many words per hour. Yeah. That's the goal.

I missed NaNoWriMo based on my crazypants schedule. Now's the time to go it alone, without several hundred other writers tagging along for the experience. I've also got several editing projects that I'm working on. This is how I work: lots at once. It's what I refer to as the academia model opposed to the logical model.

The logical model says work on one thing until it's finished -- don't split your energy or your focus.

The academia model says take five classes with five different projects and focuses and just alternate which you work on, have a bunch of small deadlines and you'll get through everything -- splitting your energy or focus doesn't matter so long as you focus on what is in front of you now.


No, it's not terribly logical, but what can I say? I do well in that academia/student-life model.

Not only do I do well with many projects, but what I've found myself having to explain to quite a few people lately is that it's not a hobby. When it's not a side project on top of all your other projects for work, family, life, personal hygiene and automobile maintenance, then it's your main project and you can put a lot into it. It's not an issue.

The issue, it seems, is getting started again after completely changing gears.

Photo credit: pOOfkAt (Katherine Choate)on flickr

Low-residency MFAs

Judging from some of the comments I've gotten when I started blogging about good reasons to get an MFA and poor reasons to get an MFA, it sounds like a lot of low-residency MFA programs are being overlooked. Don't! These programs provide solid education and great flexibility for many individuals.


A definition: A "low-residency" MFA program is a program where much of the work is done remotely and interaction is primarily through correspondence and a minimum of 14 days of residential study each year. The MFA program will often break this up into two separate visits of 7-10 days. All other study is done from the student's home wherever that is in the country or world.

The AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) says this by way of introduction to low-residency MFA programs in its Directors Handbook:

Since the first low-residency MFA program in creative writing was developed in the 1970s, higher education has established over thirty such programs.  With various combinations of residencies, workshops, lectures, online workshops and classes, study abroad, correspondence, and  one-on-one mentoring, low-residency programs vary; however, their chief attributes are individualized instruction and structural flexibility for students.  Low-residency programs require at least two years of study.  Students study literature and craft by writing original fiction, creative nonfiction, poetry, translations, screenplays, or plays; by analyzing contemporary and canonical works of literature; and by writing critical papers.  Programs also require culminating projects focused on the craft of writing—an extended craft essay, a lecture, or the teaching of a seminar.  The centerpiece of the course of study is a creative thesis, an original literary work in the student’s chosen genre(s). 

With its mentoring relationships involving one teacher and one student, or with small online workshops and seminars, the low-residency program excels in expediting the development of a writer.  Students in low-residency programs tend to be older than traditional graduate students.  Many students enter these programs intending to continue in their already established careers; these students find that their professional work is often improved by the skills they acquire in their artistic avocations.  Low-residency programs have a strong record of preparing graduates for careers in teaching, editing, publishing, public affairs, advertising, and administration. 

Lifestyle favorable: Low-residency MFAs are good choices if you aren't within driving distance of the school you want to go to and have a life you can't easily move. Great for people with kids in school, or a spouse that needs to stay put for work or family reasons, if you have a house you can't sell, or if you have a job. Yep, you don't have to quit your job to get an MFA if that's what you want to do. It'll be tough to juggle it all -- going to night school always is -- but it can be done.

Another perk is that low-residency MFAs do not (usually) come with teaching obligations to round out your funding. Although, if your post-MFA goal is to teach then this may be more of a con than a pro as the during-grad-school teaching obligations are also a form of getting experience. But if you know you don't want to teach -- ever -- then hey, bonus!

But remember that even though you get to keep your current normal life/job/living situation,  it is a form of "going back to school." Even though you meet in person only once or twice a year, you still have weekly homework, workshop deadlines, and scheduled internet chats/emails/etc. with faculty.

I've been told that to be a successful low-res MFA instructor you need to be good at expressing yourself in email -- that is, expressing yourself thoroughly and without confusion. So I'd assume that the flip side of that is that if you're a low-res student, you shouldn't be afraid of extremely long emails from your faculty; you should be willing and able to plow through those and learn whatever you can; you should be able to then express yourself succinctly through reply emails. Regardless of how well you can write a story, some people just can't email worth a damn -- odd, but true -- find out if this is you before you apply so that you can have a strategy for success or choose another route.

Niche and genre-favorable programs: If the classics aren't your thing and say, mystery writing is your thing, then odds are that there's a low-residency MFA program with a niche program for mystery writers. Same goes for screen writers, YA writers, science fiction, fantasy, romance, crime, and other forms of "commercial fiction," "popular fiction," or "genre fiction" (all three terms refer to the same thing and are used interchangeably). It's my experience that it's much harder to find programs that specialize in any of those things among traditional (high residency) MFAs, but there are quite a few now in the low-res world. The University of Southern Main, Seton Hill University, and Western Colorado are just a few I know off the top of my head. It's my opinion that more programs should be more open to training writers of popular fiction.

Non-MFA granting training programs: There are also non-MFA programs which are great.  Some of them, like the Odyssey Fantasy Writing Workshop, are potentially better than MFA programs in terms of how much you grow as a writer. If you're a sci-fi/fantasy/horror writer, consider Odyssey Fantasy Writing Workshop, Clarion, Clarion West, and others. For romance writers, join the RWA -- I don't know how much of an education the local chapters will give you, but I know that they often run bootcamps for members nationwide which you can attend (which anyone can attend but by joining the RWA you actually get notified of the upcoming event). I have little doubt that there are similar workshops and bootcamps for mystery writers and others interested in commercial genres check them out. They may be the alternative to a high residency MFA which is perfect for you.

Resources: While a google serach for "Low-residency MFA" will bring back oodles of results, there's also a handbook you can get in paper or Kindle format. It appears to be made by the same people who made the Creative Writing MFA handbook, which presumably didn't have an in-depth enough section on low-residency programs and thus the low-res volume. I've not taken a look at either -- they were either not in print yet or had gone out of print when I was applying to programs.

What I recommend is checking out the Portable MFA in Creative Writing (a $10-17 book) before you begin. If the book puzzles you, presents items you never thought of, makes you feel in over your head (ever so slightly) or tantilizes you to learn more, then getting an MFA may be just the thing to do. I remember looking at A Portable MFA before starting my program, and everything that I read sounded vaguely familiar. At the time, my vocabulary wasn't up to snuff (particularly the vocabulary I use to talk about writing) so it presented a challenge when the authors were talking about writing. But mostly I remember reading that book and agreeing with them on the lessons and the theory ... and then putting down the book and having no idea how to apply that to my own work.

And that is precisely what a good teacher/mentor can do for you: teach you how to take what works theoretically and make it work for you.

Forthcoming MFA posts: 

• How to find a program
• Why you should pay no attention to "rankings" for any school or program

Reasons to get an MFA in creative writing

Here's my big question -- before we even get into the "are you ready for an MFA?" and "where should you apply/go?" -- why do you want to get an MFA, and are your reasons strong enough to hold you through 2-3 years of graduate study?

Good reasons to get an MFA:

• You want to work on improving your craft.
• You are encouraged by having deadlines for your writing.
• You want funded time to write (assuming you get funding).
• You'd like to teach writing at the college level including composition.
• You learn well in a school-setting.
• You have a high threshold for pain when it comes to people critiquing your writing.
• You enjoy classic and contemporary "literature."
• You want to push yourself.

Poor reasons to get an MFA:

• You got a BA in English and don't know what to do next.
• You hate the thought of teaching freshmen to write essays and only want to be an artist.
• You want to be an artiste.
• Your writing doesn't need any work, you just need to network.
• You believe that once you're in an MFA program, you need only stay long enough to network your way to an agent/editor/publication.
• It will look good on your submission cover letters. 
• You think a masters degree in creative writing will make you employable.

An MFA, in theory, is the terminal degree for a creative (or artistic) form.  There are creative writing PhD programs out there, but for the moment both a PhD and an MFA are considered "terminal."  As a creative discipline, the Fine Arts part of your Master of Fine Arts degree makes you not terribly employable.  There are no ready jobs for MFA holders they way there are ready jobs for holders of JDs.  (Although lately there's no ready jobs for them either.)

With an MFA in creative writing you can teach college level writing classes -- most of these openings will be college level composition classes not college level creative writing classes. With an MFA in creative writing a couple publications, you can also teach community ed. classes in creative writing. You must have substantial publications in your creative field and substantial previous teaching experience to land a decent job teaching creative writing full time.  Know this ahead of time if it's what you want.

The time spent getting the MFA is a time to learn, but it's also a time to write.  That is the most valuable part of the MFA for any funded student: funding to write.  The most valuable part for the unfunded student: a chance to learn craft from people who (usually) are good teachers.

MFAs are horrible places to network your way to publication. Unless you make it into Iowa.  If you make it into Iowa and convince them to give you a degree, it will be easier (eventually) to get a teaching position and/or your first book contract. But every other MFA in the country is not Iowa.  Only Iowa is the Iowa of writing programs. No other MFA holds that clout -- no matter its "ranking."  More on that ranking nonsense tomorrow.

The MFA community can sniff out those who are there to network not learn. And it takes them about as long to find the fakes as it does the new family on the block to figure out if their neighbor is bringing them a casserole to welcome them in and save them from ordering pizza while unpacking, or it the goo and noodles in the corning wear is really just an excuse to get in the house and snoop. And those who are identified as using the program to network, don't ever integrate fully into the community. Although I will say that most of my faculty are the biggest name droppers I've ever met ... but that doesn't mean they'll introduce you, the student, just because you're there.  If you're looking to network, then go to local readings. Find out about readings, get on email listserves.  The university, library, or community group in your area likely brings writers and editors to town to talk and you don't even know it. Ask to be included on those email list serves and then, you know, attend readings -- it's one of the best ways to meet writers. And it'll generally cost you the price of their book (to get it signed) and not the few grand it would cost per semester of MFA.

Motivation, Making it happen, and Me

Three M concepts for today.  Let's start with "me":  my crusader challenge interview is up on Cerebral Lunchbox today.  Check it out here.

Motivation is one of those tricky, intangible forces of the universe.  If I push on a block of wood, that's a force that can be seen.  But like gravity and centripetal force, motivation can't be seen.  But it can be felt and measured.

Okay, so there is no standardized means of measuring motivation, but I'm certain you could make a personal scale if you wanted to.  You know when the force of motivation is affecting you and you know when it's absolutely not part of the picture.  The question is, can a body at rest perform work without the influence of motivation?

Did I just make the part of your brain that vaguely remembers high school physics freak out? Because I definitely have a little part of my brain spazzing out right now.

There's so much involved to go from body at rest, to applying motivational force, to making it happen -- whatever "it" is.  Take for instance the garbage disposal.

Several months ago -- yes, months -- I convinced my garbage disposal to stop working when I stuck a lemon half down it and the disposal protested by stopping and not starting.  I thought I'd burned out the motor.  I thought I needed to go put in a work order with the apartment office idiots (oh, I have reason to think very little of my on-site staff, like when they said they were taking me to court for over a thousand dollars of unpaid rent and then it turned out they owed me $70).  And then wait for lord knows how long for a repair man to show up for my not-very-urgent repair.  And I, of course, would want to be home for this so that my cats would not dart off into the wide yonder when the repair guy came into the place if I wasn't here.

So I put it off.  And put it off.  There was no motivation to get it fixed.  I had another sink I could use, so I did.  I had a working dishwasher I could use, so I did.  It wasn't convenient, but it was manageable, therefore cancelling out any force that might have become motivation to fix the situation.

And this is where "what I've learned from the TV show Dexter" comes into play.  Srsly.

Then, during my marathoning of four seasons of Dexter, I watched the character Dexter "break" a garbage disposal, take it apart to look for evidence, and flip a switch to get it going again.  And I was like, wtf? there's a switch down there? So I wondered over to my garbage disposal, looked underneath, and sure enough, there's a reset button down there.  Ten seconds later: working garbage disposal.

I learned a lifeskill from watching Dexter -- how many people can say that?
 

"I Don't Believe in Writers' Block"

I don’t believe in writers’ block. Plumbers don’t get plumbers’ block. Why should writing be the only profession that gives a special name to the difficulty of working.
- Philip Pullman

There are some authors who have no problem meeting their daily word count. Stephen King, in his hybrid memoir-manual On Writing, notes vaguely that he’s written “thirty-five or so” novels and wonders (impatiently) what exactly writers do with their time when they’re not writing:

Knit afghans? Organize church bazaars? Deify plums? I’m probably being snotty here, but I am also, believe me, honestly curious. If God gives you something you can do, why in God’s name wouldn’t you do it?

Sage, if somewhat flippant advice.

The OWL at Purdue (the go-to site for every college Writing Center Office in America because they'd like to make their own resources look like this but why bother when Purdue's already done the work?) claims writer's block is real.  Their Symptom/Possible Cure approach doesn't challenge the writer's belief in being blocked -- but if you look carefully at the symptoms you'll see that they all fall under "things I've done to myself that make writing impossible."

Not everyone's as nice as the online writing lab at Purdue.  Some are tough-love-bitches on the subject: "There is no such thing as writer's block. Anyone who says they have it is just in denial."

I now know what writer’s block is. It’s the fear you cannot do what you’ve announced to someone else you can do, or else the fear that it isn’t worth doing. That’s the rarer form.

Tom Wolfe in an interview with George Plimpton in Writers at Work: The Paris Review Interviews: Ninth Series (Viking 1992).

Just when I begin to think the condition doesn't exist I find proof that it does: Writer's Block Wines out of California. With a nice picture of the Bard on the label to remind you of how prolific he was and how prolific you ... maybe better just to drink the wine until you can't think.

Isaac Asimov had writer's block once. It was the worst ten minutes of his life.
* Attributed to Harlan Ellison

So, what do you think? Does it exist? What is it? Have you suffered it? Or just bantered witty quotes about it?

Where I'm At

- News: President Obama chose Kalamazoo Central High School as the one US high school where he'll give a commencement address this year.  http://www.whitehouse.gov/commencement  They won a video-essay contest.
- Speak Coffee journal giveaway: still open!

This is so where I'm at right now.  YA writer Natalie Whipple blogs that should she never get another idea for a novel/story she would have more than enough to keep her writing for the rest of her life (agreed).  She's restarting/rewriting a project (so am I), and it turns out she's a big fan of rewrites (I sure hope I am).

I start today on a novel that I've officially started twice before.  This time, however, I have an outline and a much better idea of who my characters are.  I hope to finish said novel draft within the month of May.  Which is crazy, but no more crazy than author Kiersten White completed her first novel.

On Kiersten's blog (Kiersten Writes) she posts on her "method" ... basically there is no method other than obsession. Getting the novel done  means becoming completely obsessed with the material.  I'm completely with her on this one (minus the writing while the kid is napping part).  My one completed novel manuscript (it's drivel but it's completed) came out of a January of obsession -- I remember nothing of that month but writing, coffee and overcast skies.  And wearing the same sweatshirt most days. Hmm.

But I'm worried about being able to complete a draft of this project. The first time I attempted it I had a fun idea but I didn't know where it was going or who my characters were, so it died at 20,000 words of manuscript. That's 20,000 words of place description and funny snips of dialog that had no place in the narrative and very little actual story.

The second time I attacked it I still didn't really know where I was going -- I'm a self declared pantser -- and I tried to edit the old scenes and then write the new ones.  I got bogged down by rereading the first attempt scenes.  I ended up spending my time editing not writing.  And then I got depressed at how poor my old writing was and further depressed by my lack of forward progress.

This time I don't intend to look at anything but my synopsis and outline as I write the new draft.

I know!  A synopsis!  An outline!  The self-declared pantser has an outline.  Have I gone over to the dark side and become a plotter?  I don't yet know.  Ask me in three weeks.

I used to love attempting the type of controlled chaos that Linda Grimes talks about on her blog Visiting Reality.  (BTW, I love her blog when she starts tell stories, like how she was accidentally recruited to run guns for the IRA).

Now is the perfect time to start (and finish) a manic novel writing dash because I'm free. Spring semester has ended and I don't teach in the summer nor am I taking class this month.  Sure, I'm playing big-bad-editor for the literary journal, and I'm getting ready for a six week stint in New England, and trying to recover my apartment from the tidal wave of chaos that washed in during finals ... but I'm free(ish).

My new mindset is wholly encompassed by this flow chart. I'm printing it out and taping it to the window behind my desk. No seriously, I'm taping it to the window. And if my neighbors start doing something stupid but entertaining I will have to lean to the side to watch around the flow chart taped to my window.

It's time to get the damnwriting done.  What's your method?  How do you get it done?

I suppose I should actually write a post this week.

I've spent much of the past four days working on the first ten thousand words of a new novel and successfully avoiding my linguistics class projects. Today I presented on that linguistics project. Don't worry: it went well. I only procrastinate until the last possible minute, not beyond.

Writing this blog post is another means of procrastinating on the written part of the project. Though, by the time this "runs" on Thursday morning I will have finished writing so no need to leave me scornful, mother-like comments about getting back to work. I know, I'm sucking all the fun out of it ;)

Working on the novel has been delightful. It's a "commercial" (i.e. not literary) project but it's happy. I've developed a pattern that has worked extremely well over the past few days. In the afternoon I print out the last half page of the text, then that evening I continue the scene or start the next one by writing it out long hand on the print out page. This gives me a quick edit of the typed text and it also means that the next morning when I go to type it up I have a "running start" for finishing my daily goal of 1000 words.

Someone recently reminded me that Stephen King in his memoir On Writing (which I really need to finish one of these days), says that the first draft of a novel should not take more than three months to write, otherwise the story gets stale in the mind of the author and that staleness translates into the writing. Editing that draft may take forever, but the first one should make it's debut in a heated rush. [I'll leave you to create your own similes and double entendres to follow that statement.]

This week's writing in The Artist's Way deals primarily with shame and anger. Shame that others inflict on us for being creative and "outside the box" of their perceptions and noting the anger we feel as indicative of what is really the matter. No, we don't act on our anger in society (most of the time) but we shouldn't dismiss that anger as irrational or unimportant because there had to be something that triggered it. Just because a hay bale seems to spontaneously combust does not mean that there was not a legitimate reason for the bale to go up in flames.

(Oxidization of wet hay in the center of a tightly bound bale spikes the internal temperature. I did a report on it in eighth grade science.)

I've been thinking about it but, as anger is not socially appropriate to air no matter how wonderfully introspective it is. And I'm really itching to just blab it all. Damn politeness.

Sing Me the Writerly Blues

I've been feeling "out of it" for the past three weeks. Occasionally, a flurry of activity or excitement (like submissions going out or hearing that my story is now an opera) will distract me and I'll begin to think that I'm feeling better and that this depression-like-feeling is lifting. A few days later the feeling returns.

It's a feeling of being generally useless. It's inspired by grading student papers, by not grading student papers, by reading, by watching TV, by sitting at the keyboard and pulling 500 words out and feeling like there are no more to follow it. It's doubled by scanning the Amazon.com backlists of writers I enjoy. She kicks out how many books a year! no way! Not human.

I've come up with a couple theories of how I can break this feeling. That I can go out and take walks (very The Writer's Way of me) and that I can give myself an hour a day of story-writing-time. Except it's not the time that's the issue. I can find plenty of that to spare on all sorts of idleness.

I've said before that I cannot wait for this semester of grad school to be over, and I really, really mean it. There's only 20 days of it left.

I want, really, really want to write novels this summer. I attempted NaNoWriMo and JanNo and failed at both because of coursework. I just don't have enough time in the regular semester to devote the energy to a novel. Not even that it's the time (the time I can find) it's the energy that the novel takes. The thinking through and piecing together and really getting to know the characters I'm writing about -- that all takes mental energy or focus. And with so much coursework my focus shifts elsewhere several times a day and I get writerly-ADHD. I write (consistently) 500 word blocks of stories. At 500 words my mind blanks and wants, begs, throws a tantrum until I go on to something else.

I just don't know what to do with myself other than whine and wait out the next three weeks. However, it's going to be a scary three weeks: I've started to doubt my novel-ing ability given the novel-agony of the past few months. I just want a big ol' juicy project to really sink my teeth into. I like my short stories, yes, but I want to fall in love with my characters and that really doesn't happen for me in 10-30 pages worth of story. I know my short story characters but I do not care about them one way or another.

Short stories, in my humble opinion, are about craft and concept. They should be insanely well written and they should be intriguing. They should make the reader go hmm.

Novels are about storytelling. They are about finding people you would want take an eight hour car trip with and then doing so. Novels, no matter the genre, are about pure fantasy. A fantasy so real that as readers (and writers) we begin to love and hate the characters like they are people, like they are real, like they matter.

Those are the worlds I want to build. And I am terrified that as I gain the time to write at the end of this month, that I will not be able to be that storyteller.

What an MFA Program Does to Your Writing Life

How long has it been since I posted about writing? And did so without posting about teaching? Without posting about workshop? Without posting wacky stories that demonstrate the blog as a storytelling form without actually commenting on the form? Probably a month: yikes!

I've been woefully off topic.

And yet I've been on topic at least for part of it, as I promised to blog about the MFA portion of my life as well. Which leads me to today's post: what an MFA program does to your writing life.

As I was leaving workshop yesterday the two people behind me were having a conversation essentially about course schedules and the amount of time they spend on writing. One is in her second year of the MFA and the other is in his third and final year. The woman in her second year was discussing the fact that she was taking nine hours this semester instead of the usual six to help stay on track for graduation. Such a course load is doable but rather insane if you're also teaching one or two sections of freshmen composition.

Then the guy said something that felt completely true to me:

Everyone says an MFA is 'time to write' but it sure doesn't feel like I have time.

Bingo.

If I had to break down the hours of my week the amount of time I spend on things would go like this:

• Sleeping: about 56 hrs.
• Cooking, cleaning, shopping, showering, etc.: 28+ hrs.
• Time spent on internet blogs/forums/news: 16+ hrs.
• Prepping for the one class I teach: 12+ hrs.
• Reading for my Teaching Methods class: 7+ hrs.
• Teaching: 4 hrs.
• Writing (fiction in general): 3.5 (+/-) hrs.
• Sitting in Methods class: 3 hrs.
• Sitting in workshop: 2.5 hrs.
• Reading/commenting for workshop: 1.5 hrs.
• Writing that will actually contribute to my workshopped story: 1 hr.

Crazy.

It's a lot less like an MFA is time to write and a lot more like an MFA provides deadlines for your writing that you must make time to meet, if you ask me.

There are people who harp on MFA programs with the argument that you'd be more successful spending that money, not on a degree, but on renting a cabin in the woods for two years where you could write in solitude.

There are essentially three flaws in that argument. The first is simply the fact that if you want to teach then two years in the cabin doesn't do you any good so you need to get the degree and learn to teach.

The second flaw is that not everyone can learn by looking at others' books and then trying to write their own. Some people need to learn from others through discussion, and discussion requires individuals to talk to, mentors and teachers.

The third flaw is the implication that an MFA is lots and lots of free time. It's not. Because you're doing all that learning stuff at the same time as the writing stuff.

Now, don't get me wrong; this is where I want to be and what I want to do. I love teaching in the college classroom and I know I have to get another degree to continue to do that so I don't begrudge the time and effort this stuff takes -- but the writing life of an MFA candidate is really no different from the writing life of anyone working 40 hours a week; you're doing a full time job just keeping up with life and classes, and then you have to figure out how to squeeze in time for writing.

But the really great news is that in an MFA program, your full time job pertains to English and writing 80% of the time. It's not busywork, it's not laying brick, processing payrolls, adjusting claims or serving coffee. It's all about writing.

[That said, I think I may need to get a second job serving coffee to pay my bills. Sigh. So much for ending on a hopeful note.]

Ways to Keep Writing

Here's a list of ideas and suggestions of ways to keep writing toward your goal. You'll never be able to completely get rid of all the disctractions in your life, here's some suggestions for working around life and occasionally for tricking yourself into writing anyway.

· Set a timer for a short period of time (15 minutes or 30) and stay at the keyboard--no matter what--until it dings. Then do it again. Only allow yourself to get up after the timer dings, and always set the timer again if you stay at the keyboard. This will hold you in place long enough for the first impulse toward work-avoidance to pass, and you'll often discover yourself eager to keep going when your time's up.

· Schedule your day's activities--and schedule writing hours first. This doesn't necessarily mean putting them first in the day, but putting them on the schedule itself first, so they get priority. Schedule everything: bathing, eating, sleeping, telephone time (outgoing calls, at least), walking the dog--everything. Then, if it's not on the schedule, don't do it. Schedule it tomorrow.

· Form a support/nagging network of other writers.

· Graph your hours and/or pages against those of your support group. Post the graph where you can see it when you write. Also post it where you can see it when you don't write.

· Challenge other writers to finish a story a week, losers to buy dinner (or dessert, or whatever) for winners.

· Generate story ideas mechanically. Roll dice and pick characters and settings from a list. Tumble a desktop encyclopedia downstairs and write about whatever it opens to when it lands. Throw darts at your bookshelf and write a homage to whatever you hit. The goal here is to demystify "idea" as a stumbling block. Ideas are a dime a dozen once you learn how to find them. Become a supplier rather than a consumer.

· If you've been sitting on an idea until you think you're good enough to do it justice, do it now! You may be run over by a bus tomorrow. Even if you aren't, by the time you think you're good enough, the passion for it will be gone. Write it now! Write all your good ideas as quickly as you can after you get them. Don't worry about getting more; they'll come faster and faster the more you write. Before you know it, you'll be begging people to take them, like a gardener with zucchini.

· Turn off the internet until you’ve met that day’s goals. No email or web surfing until the time/page count/word count is met.

· Carry a note pad or tape recorder with you wherever you go. Use it to record ideas as well as the actual text of stories. Make it your external memory. The idea here is to keep yourself focused on writing no matter what else you're doing.

· Keep more than one project going at once. Switch to another the moment you slow down on one.

Accept Rejection and Reject Acceptance

"You have to know how to accept rejection and reject acceptance."
- Ray Bradbury

There it is, the Bradbury quote from above printed on a strip of green paper and affixed to my bulletin board. It lives there resting on top of my series of rejection letters from a handful of literary magazines and one from a children's book publisher.

I started pinning them up there in December 2006 as physical proof that I was doing something. They were evidence that I was trying and trying again to make it. And a part of me loves them for that. Actually, all of me loves them for that. I must be the most wacky writer out there: I love all my rejection letters. Okay the poetry contest I made an honorable mention in made me dance but when the little certificate came in the mail I showed it to my mother and then stuck it in a pile. My mother wanted to frame it but I refused as it was a cheap certificate that someone had obviously run through an inkjet and shoved into an envelope. The acceptance didn't inspire me, didn't make me feel any more like a writer than the rejection letters had. Then again, if it had come with publication not just a certificate then maybe I would have felt differently.

However it has been months since I've received a rejection letter from a literary magazine: because I've stopped submitting. Oops. This must change. Take a look at that bulletin board again:

There's lots of room there for more pre-printed notes. And it is my intent and desire to fill the board with more notes. More proof that I am working toward my future in print.

Don't get me wrong, I love my blog, but my blog needs friends. Friends that come in hand held editions.

What you don't see in that picture are all my electronic rejection letters. I don't print emails just to tack them up there just to make me feel better as I feel it is unfair to the trees. Those electronic rejections would probably double the number of letters in the picture and there would be one from as recently as early December 2007 for poetry and a couple fiction from summer 2007. But they weren't heartfelt submissions sadly.

What you do see in that picture in the lower center area is a pre-printed note with about three handwritten sentences to me from the editor. This is my most cherished note. Handwritten comments are rare. However that note is from my poetry days and I've realized I don't really have what it takes to stick in poetry. It was a phase. My strength has always lied in fiction but I think I was simply tempted by the glitz and speed of the shorter form.

So here it is, a toast to new fiction and new literary rejection letters in the new year! They are the pebbles tossed in the river: they seem small and insignificant but if I gather enough of them I may some day walk across them to the far bank.

Write in the Snow

If you grew up around snow you've undoubtedly written in it at some point. I always chose to do so with a stick or fallen branch, some used other means. But this post isn't about who can best write their name in the snow.

This is the world I've been living in for the past two days. (See pictures.) Despite the fact that 12" of snow fell on my house in under 48 hours the national weather guys (well, Good Morning America) don't really seem to think I'm worthy of mentioning. Instead they focused on parts of New England that received the exact same amount of snow. I console myself by the fact that considering who the guests were on GMA today I'm happy not to be mentioned among them.

Most cities around me received only 8". The south side of town only got 10". But me? I went big. But once you get 8" in 24 hours what's another four? Either way, you're better off staying inside and eating whatever lives in the back of your cabinet than going outside to make friends with two truck guy. Instead just sit tight and wait for your burly, but handsome and charming, neighbor to come shovel your sidewalk for you. (I'm still working on acquiring such a neighbor.) This picture is my path, foolishly shoveled at the 9" or 10" mark. As you can see there's already more snow fallen on what was cleared cement about a half hour before.

I look now for reasons to write in the snow. You might think they are obvious but procrastination is a fine art. One that many of us have mastered at a young age and have yet to overcome.

1. There's only so long you can play in the snow before you turn into the snowman in the Campbell's Soup commercial. Come inside, get your soup, and write something productive.

2. It's inferior snow. You can sled in this snow or ski. But you couldn't make a snowball or snowman if your life depended on it. Wait until February for the good packing stuff.

3. It's ethereal. Falling snow does strange things to the sunlight. It makes you feel like you should be somewhere else, floating outside along with it, not trapped in your own mind or body. Just watching it you're halfway to connecting with your subconscious.

4. There's a sense of lethargy, a lack of urgency that accompanies the kind of snow that traps you indoors. Curling up in an ancient sweatshirt and watching Christmas movies is just as lovely a feeling as writing another thousand words ... except if you write you have something to show for it at the end, if you watch White Christmas again for the umpteenth time you're just that much more capable of completing Danny Kaye's sentences.

5. If the Christmas season is magical then anything you write during it will have some magic of its own. It's kinda like that old silk hat they found. (Okay it's a stretch, but so are most movies on Lifetime and they're still in business.)

6. It's going to be a long, cold winter. I have no science to back this up. The weathermen haven't told me and no news company is willing to put their stamp on that fact -- they're all still reeling from calling Florida too early in 2000 to call anything before the final count. But I'm going out on an icy limb and saying it: long, cold, not over anytime soon. The past couple winters have been nice, mild treats. Now we dig in. Make sure to stock water, canned goods, and extra paper so you're not bored.

7. It's cheaper than snowboarding lessons. (Ouch.) And you're not as sore afterward. (Oof.)

8.If there was an alien race trying to take over the Earth and the snow was really just a part of their master plan of destruction and doom, wouldn't you want to have written your novel before Jeff Goldblum convinces the President that eminent danger is lurking? (Work with me here, I'm trying to get to number ten.)

9. Writing prevents you from kvetching about the snow. I know, I know, it's your favorite pastime. You and everyone else around here. And if you like snow you've learned to keep that to yourself, but you know that your complaining companions are too grumpy and caffeine deprived at the moment to wonder at the little smile on your face. The smile is more productive. What's even more productive? Writing! (Good guess on your part, by the way. You're catching on to the pattern.)

10. Lastly, certain other forms of writing in the snow that were cute when you were a kid might just get you arrested as an adult. Best to stick to pen and paper.

Keep Writing!

I once dated a guy who claimed he was on the verge of the next Great American Novel (dispelling the myth of the 'Great American Novel' will be a later entry). He told me he had planned the whole thing out in detail. Plotted it meticulously. Developed characters that the critics were going to love him for. With such great insight into the human condition that it would be on reading lists long after his death. Except this was all in his head. He hadn’t written down a single word.

I pushed for him to write it. To write anything. I even threw my weight behind it both as girlfriend and as fellow writer, but he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t even discuss it with me other than to tell me it would be great and talking about it would ruin his vision.

To this day, I’ve never seen him publish anything. Anything.

I don’t tell this story to upset or to discourage. I tell it to reinforce that if you want to write there is a necessity of actually writing. No one runs the Boston Marathon just because they’ve been thinking about it without getting up and running every morning for months before hand. You have to get over whatever is keeping you from running -- your ego, your inexperience, your bad knee or your schedule -- and hit the pavement.

The best advice anyone can give to those who want to write is to write constantly. The second best: don't be afraid to talk about it. Constructive criticism and feedback are very important to learning any new skill. And no one, no matter how great a writing, ever publishes without accepting both criticism and feedback.

But first you need to keep writing. Think of being on that morning run again: it's easier when you're already in motion than when you are starting from a complete stop. The second mile is much easier to start than getting off the couch ever is. Once you decide to write, and write for writing's sake there are ways to trick yourself into writing more. Just like there are ways to trick yourself into running further when you're out on the pavement.

1. Keep paper on you always, I have a thin little pocket notebook perfect for my back pocket. (People keep asking me if I’m a reporter and if I’m feeling spunky I tell them yes.) Write down anything interesting you think or hear or see. I’ve got a great description of the bum who lives on my corner and a transcribed conversation between three hicks about the end of the world all because I kept my eyes and ears open and paper in my back pocket.

2. Keep a journal. Keep five. Anything that makes you write. I have one journal that is notes on my own life, not very useful for stories but cathartic. Another is ideas for fiction. A third is made up entirely of single lines that rattled around in my brain and would not stop bothering me until I gave them space on paper. It might not be a good space, or the right space but I will find that someday and in the meantime I don’t let myself worry about their rhyme or reason. A fourth journal I use for notes on humorous subjects that I might want to blog eventually. My father keeps a journal entirely based around recipes he finds and his experiences making them. You get the picture.

I've read that there's a school of thought that you need to keep at least one handwritten journal so that you can stay in touch with actual "writing." I think this is a bunch of bull. Do what feels right for you. If labor intensive longhand slows down your process then forget it. If you can't type to save your life then use a pad of paper and pay the neighbor kid to type it up later. NO ONE has the upper hand on method; it is, after all, an art not a science.

3. If you struggle with getting to the point where you write for the sake of writing constantly, then take a class. You'll also get that much needed chance to talk about your work. Writing workshops aren’t just for college students. They’re popping up around the country, in city recreation programs, community colleges and bookstores nationwide. And if you still can’t find one there’s always the internet and low-residency MFA programs. Also available are week or weekend long workshop retreats. I went to the Kenyon Review's workshop and loved it. All these options present deadlines. Deadlines are an amazing thing. Some times you really do just need a boot to your behind to get you going. See Poets&Writers for listings of writing programs and conferences and residencies.

4. If you possess more discipline and can do it on your own then set aside time to write each day. Or maybe you want to begin with setting aside a few hours Saturday morning to work yourself into it. Mornings or evenings doesn’t matter, but whichever you choose make sure it is something that you are not going to trade for time to sleep or do laundry when push comes to shove.

In the end, these ideas are all just suggestions to trick yourself into writing. Everyone’s different and maybe something else will work for you. But there is one sure fire way to fail at writing: by not writing. Remember that old boyfriend of mine? He’s only ever written one short story, and, last I heard, still not one word of that supposedly great novel.