Category Archives: The Fictorians

The Crust of Mediocrity

Goals Kim May 2 Comments

When I was in college I thought I would make dinner for my family. It wasn’t anything fancy — just a pizza and I used Bisquick for the crust — but since Mom worked long hours and my siblings had sports practices that ran late I figured they’d love it anyway.

As it turned out Bisquick was (and still is) my culinary kryptonite. The pizza crust could have doubled for a paving stone. I followed the instructions to the letter and I didn’t over cook it. As far as I can tell it should have turned out perfectly. For that matter, nothing else I’ve made since with the product has turned out either. It’s still edible and the flavor is spot on. It’s just too crunchy for the experience to be enjoyable (and potentially detrimental to dental work).

Now I’m afraid to touch that defiant yellow box.

I have a similar fear concerning my writing. Not that the story won’t turn out right. Practice, study, and good editing will take care of that. No, my fear is that no matter how hard I try my writing will be mediocre.

Now I do realize that mediocre is a relative term. For some it might be the absence of awards and accolades. For others it might be that they can’t afford to quit the day job.  I define it as being as unsuccessful as a writer as I am with Bisquick. That no matter how hard I study and fine-tune my craft my literary contributions will amount to a glutinous hocky puck that will be laughed about for years.

I want to be better than that and unfortunately only time will tell. There’s no way to safeguard against it. I simply have to practice, hone, and cross my fingers that this time it works.

Logging those Flight Hours

Mary Pletsch The Writing Life 1 Comment

I don’t have a lot of feeling in half of my left hand.  I developed an ulnar entrapment in my mid 20s and went to a specialist to see what could be done.  I was offered a choice:  surgery that had a 50% chance of restoring the sensation, and a 50% chance of leaving me with movement problems in addition to sensation problems.

I skipped the surgery.  I may not always be able to feel my fingers, but at least they work:  I can still type, and I can still write.

I’ve written before about my challenges with aphasia, but I got an unpleasant surprise a few months ago when I developed a persistent ache in my right wrist.  I wasn’t sure what I’d done to cause the pain.  I couldn’t remember tripping and landing on it, picking up something too heavy, or any precise moment when the pain began.

I had story submissions that I wanted to complete.  Even if I let those slide, I still had to go to work, in a job that required computer use.  It was like the surgery choice all over again, except this time, there was no choice.  There was only a what-if:  What if I can’t write any more?  What if I have carpal tunnel?  What if I lose movement, not just feeling, in my hands?

Fortunately, I was moving cross-country this summer, meaning I’d be out of work and offline with my computer packed for travel.  I didn’t use a computer very often for a period of about six weeks.  My wrist finally started feeling better.  All healed up, I got my computer online in my new home and sat down to do some writing.

Ow.

This wrist problem is very real, and, while I can manage it, it is not going away.  The spectre of developing carpal tunnel syndrome or sustaining further nerve damage hovers over me even as I try to boost my daily word count.

I now wear my braces when I’m writing.  No exceptions.  I’ve also switched my mouse to the left side of my desk, so that I’m using my non-dominant hand for pointing and clicking.  I’m hoping that by outsourcing the bulk of the point and click work to my other hand, I can give my right hand more of a break.  I’m also undergoing treatment for shoulder and back pain.

When I was flying gliders, we had to record how much time the aircraft spent in flight.  After a certain number of flight hours, the airframes were stripped down and rebuilt from the ground up to ensure all the components were in proper working condition.  The human body isn’t an aircraft, and I won’t be able to swap out parts when they get worn out.  I plan on writing for the rest of my life, and in order to do so, I need to take proper care of my wrists and back.

Long term, I may need to look into voice-recognition software if the wrist problem intensifies.  I’m not sure how well it will work for me, particularly when aphasia is garbling my ability to speak.  I am afraid it will not work for me. I am afraid I will need it.

But I will write.  I will write somehow, whatever accommodations I need to make to do so safely and healthily.

You are not as immortal as you think you are when you’re young.  Parts wear out.  Bodies wear down.  If you are in it for the long haul…make wise decisions and plan accordingly.

 

 

Fear and Loathing in the Writing Life

Horror Leigh Galbreath Publishing Starting a Career The Writing Life No Comments

Welcome to October, everyone!

To fit the occasion, this being the month of fears, the Fictorians will be looking at the things that give us pause, make our hearts pound, or just plain give us grief.

That’s right, we’re looking at the darker side of the writing life.

As writing hobbiests, when our scribblings are just to feed that hungry monster in our souls that demands we create worlds all our own and put those worlds and the people that live in them on a page, we don’t have to deal with anything we don’t want to. We can live in our heads, playing with our characters to our hearts content, and be perfectly happy doing so.

It’s not until we decide to make a living off those worlds and characters that we run into trouble. After all, no job is perfect. They all have negatives. Writing is no different.

Actually, it might be a little worse.

In a normal job, we can say, “Hey, that’s not my responsibility.” Often, we can procrastinate, we can ask for help, or push whatever it is on to someone else. Or, we have to grin and bear it until we’re done, but hey…we’re getting a steady income that pays for shelter and food for our trouble.

Not so in the life of an aspiring author.

All of us in this business face things that we don’t particularly want to do or aren’t good at, especially those who take the self-publishing route. And in this day and age, going with a publishing house doesn’t mean you get to hide away in your underground bunker to type away and cackle like a mad genius.

Everything is our responsibility. We are self employed introverts, for the most part, so there are no coworkers to push the work on, or to help us, and procrastination just means it takes that much longer before we get the payoff. We always have to grin and bear it, not for a steady paycheck, but for the chance of an advance or royalty that could be steady, but for the most of us, not big enough to live on or balance out having to earn it.

Good thing we’re not in it for the money, right?

No, we’re in it for the love. Our love of words and worlds and characters. The hungry monster in our souls cares nothing for paltry trinkets and paychecks. But when they’re fed, we’re over the moon.

So, we deal because we get to feel that anticipation when inspiration strikes and we know we’re off to someplace new, that satisfaction of finishing something uniquely ours, that pride at inviting other people into our creations and knowing they enjoyed it there. At least, that’s why I do it. I don’t know about you.

So, this month, we and some of our friends, will be sharing stories about having to face the less enjoyable parts of being an author and how we’ve dealt with it, from fears of not finding an audience, to dealing with catastrophic book launches and writing induced injury.

We all have to face the fears of not being good enough, or the hassle of being our own promoters, or dealing with our own real life antagonists. So read on, my friends, commiserate with us, and join us as we conquer our writing fears and professional loathings.

September on Tap

Evan Braun 1 Comment

A month of stranger than fiction stories were promised… and, well, promised delivered! I’ve been friends and colleagues with the many writers of this blog for years, and yet I found myself consistently surprised, amused, and horrified by September’s crop of posts.

One of the dominant stereotypes about writers is that we’re all J.D. Salinger types, antisocial nerds who shut themselves up in their dark little basements and slowly grow pale from lack of direct sunlight. Okay, that might be overstating things somewhat. The point is that it couldn’t be further from the truth. In order to write resonant, exciting, and cathartic prose, you have to get out into the world and live. September was certainly a showcase for that.

In case you’ve missed any of our excellent posts this month, take a few minutes to browse what’s on offer.

Stranger than Fiction, by Nancy DiMauro.

Hair Popsicle, by Clancy Metzger.

The Self-Cleaning Dog, by Gregory D. Little.

What’s Up, Doc? by Kim May.

A Hangman’s Tale, by Karen Dudley.

The $80 Mission Bank Heist, by Jace Sanders.

The Thin Line Between Memoir and Realistic Fiction, by Kristin Luna.

The Longest Ten Minutes, by Evan Braun.

My Close Encounter, by Robert J. McCarter.

Based on a True Story, by Kevin Ikenberry.

The Strangest Part of Real Life Is that It Happens Every Day, by Matt Jones.

Life vs. Story, by Frank Morin.

Haunted Hospital, by Paul Genesse.

Texas Heart Shot, by Quincy Allen.

Hell in an Elevator, by Scott Eder.

Perfectly Harmless Lake Flies, by Gama Martinez.

From Plane to Progress, by Colette Black.

When Life Is Larger than Life, by Mary Pletsch.

In the Company of Giants, by Lou J. Berger.

Webbed Toes and Dream-Memories, by Nathan Barra.

Come on back tomorrow, as Leigh Galbreath begins a journey into our more angsty writerly psyches. For October, we’ll be tackling Fear and Loathing in the Writing Life.