Category Archives: Life Philosophies

Today’s post is going to cover two gifts for the price of one, both intangible and tangible.

I began my first novel manuscript in January of 1999. There were three of us then, and during our winter break from college, we set out to write the greatest epic fantasy novel known to man. I probably don’t have to tell you our plans didn’t quite pan out. But flash forward four or five years, and that book, the first thing I ever tried to write with a serious intention of publishing it, was nearly the reason I quit writing for good.

My co-authors dropped out early in the process. We enjoyed talking about our story’s awesomeness more than actually working on it together. But I’d continued plugging slowly along on the book throughout college. And by the time I was graduated and then married, I had a couple of hundred draft pages. That seems like a tiny amount to Present Day Greg, but at the time it was by far the longest thing I’d ever written. The trouble was, I’d basically stopped working on it.

I told myself I was just busy. Working at a full-time job and commuting three hours daily left me very tired by the end of each week. But that wasn’t it. In truth I no longer believed in the story I was writing. I was no longer excited by it, because there was a dissonance between the plot and the protagonist. I didn’t believe that this protagonist would be responsible for the acts of his recent past that formed the foundation of the plot.

I’d be willing to bet a lot of writers don’t consciously decide to give up writing. It just sort of happens bit by bit, day by day until they look back and realize it’s been months or years since they’ve written. The point of no return is when this thought no longer bothers them. I came pretty close to that point. A more experienced writer would have just tossed the idea and started on a new one, but that wasn’t how I looked at it. The germ for this story had been in my head for a decade. If I couldn’t even see it through, what hope did I ever have of being a writer? But the Sunk Cost Fallacy had me in its claws. For those unfamiliar, the Sunk Cost Fallacy is the human tendency to “throw good money after bad” and continue investing in something that isn’t working just because you’ve invested so much into it already.

I can’t remember exactly when it happened, but I gradually gave myself permission to scrap what needed scrapping in order to the save the story. It started with rewriting the protagonist into the antagonist, but by the end I trashed every single word of text and started over. Some of the characters’ relationships to one another and some of my original world-building concepts would survive, but every bit of the prose was fed into the furnace of reigniting my excitement for the project. It was total scorched earth, and as much as I’d dreaded the concept, it was surprisingly liberating once I’d committed myself to it.

Eventually I finished my monster of a first manuscript, An End to Gods. The final product is infinitely better than the project was originally shaping up to be. I’ve gotten much faster and trimmer as a writer since then, and the book is still too big and too Byzantine to publish as a novice writer, but I love it for all its messy complexity. My cousins even collaborated to get it printed and bound in leather for me several Christmases ago, complete with custom chapter icon artwork (Ben and Duncan, you guys still rock!) and it is still the coolest gift I’ve ever been given. It’s sitting on my shelf behind me as I type this (and in the picture at the top of this post). I don’t mind telling you I got teary-eyed when I first laid eyes on it, and I still plan on publishing it one day, however many rewrites that takes. I’ve already done it once, after all.

So there you have it. Two greatest gifts for the price of one. Kevin J. Anderson likes to use the phrase “dare to be bad (at first)” and that’s excellent advice. But if that first draft is so bad it’s discouraging you from continuing to write, it may be time to tear it down and start again.

The Gift of Fortitude

December 13, 2013

fictorians

Guest Posts Motivation The Writing Life No Comments

A guest post by Holly Dawn Hewlett.

What is the greatest gift I’ve received as a writer? It is always a dangerous thing to ask any artist this question. As artists, we are affected and marked by everything we encounter. What comes to mind when I see this question is the unspoken expectation of the asker, “And can I use this gift in my career?” I would answer that anytime someone takes the time to consider “the greatest of anything” that has affected them, that you have a rare opportunity to add to those experiences that affect and mark you!

For me, the greatest gift I have received as a writer is fortitude. This fortitude has come in the form of humans and experiences throughout my life. As with most writers, my work is like pouring my blood on a page and hoping not to be a victim of a public execution! As strong as I am, as much as I have to put words to page….I cringe at releasing my work to world. They haven’t birthed it, they haven’t agonized over the consonants and vowels, and they haven’t sat in the darkness as their muse exacts her price for this gift.

My journey with fortitude began early. Writing kept me from killing myself or anyone else during my childhood. I could write anything and get all the horror and pain out, which made space for beauty. I was a gifted student in the ghetto of Philly, fresh from divorced parents, a country bumpkin living in a truck camper on an empty lot with my mom, 3 brothers and several cousins. Until I turned 13, less than a handful of people EVER saw my writings, and no one saw all of it.

Thankfully, English classes require you to write, so from 7^th grade on, my teachers knew of my writings. One of these, Mrs. Sheridan made me apply for the R Stewart Rausch program at Temple University. Little did I know I was about to find my lifelong mentor Lonnie Moseley. This program took ghetto kids who were gifted and let them go to college in the summer! I was in Heaven! Lonnie took each of us, found our passion and fanned it with all the resources at her disposal. She also didn’t shy away from the reality of our daily lives….abuse, broken homes, drugs, and death. For the first time in my life I could show someone ANY of my writings and not be afraid of reprisal or ridicule! This gave me the strength to leave the ghetto. To go explore the world and find my voice.

My journey continued onto the road. I spent 26 years driving a tractor trailer. It you don’t have fortitude or self-reliance when you start, you will either have it or be dead within 30 days. I loved the road, the indescribable beauty of our country and its peoples, and the challenge everyday of what the day may bring. One of my greatest experiences was finding thousands of other truckers who were writers! There is something about reading a poem into a mic at 3 am going down the road that is cathartic and completely unnerving! Unbelievably, you find out there are countless others who feel just like you.

At 32 years old, I finally had the chance to go to college! I experienced the most unnerving incident of my writing career! Apparently, when you are concentrating and learning anew, unless you are endeavoring in creativity- The brain will shut off sectioned to handle the new stress load being placed on it! The chance of a lifetime (for me) eagerly looking forward to the next 4 years…AND I COULD NOT WRITE! NOT ONE BLOODY RHYME! Not even a couplet! I sat in my dad’s kitchen and sobbed, he of course was dumbfounded. Thankfully, I went to my English Prof Adele Mery, who explained that this happened all the time. She turned me onto a Stephen King book, Nightmares in the Sky http://www.amazon.com/Nightmares-Sky-Grotesques-Stephen-King/dp/0670823074 Even the great writer Stephen King had experienced writers block! I took everyone’s advice and tried to just not think about it. Low and behold, about 5 months into my first year—My Muse came back with a vengeance! THANK YOU UNIVERSE!

During these years my fortitude was beaten, bruised, and tempered. I, an out and proud, take no shit Woman and Lesbian…was attending college in South Texas, the only state that has had a criminal statute for just BEING Gay! AND, The University of Texas Pan American, was 93% Roman Catholic. Most of the time my fellow students were waiting for me to burst into a pillar of flames! They let you know real quick that you could wind up dead, but I gave as good as I got and have some awesome scars to tell my grandkids about! Yet, my defining moment wasn’t in school, it was at home; my dad asked me to use a pen name so his customers wouldn’t know it was his daughter writing all this gay and political poetry! I remember going to my room, crying for a couple hours and then there is that moment: I dried my eyes and said Never! I had never hid before then and I wasn’t going to start now. I had the support of my Best Friend, Clancy Metzger, who is also a writer. We are both warriors, each time one of us is weary of the fight the other one grabs the scruff of the neck and pulls you back up and shoves your quill back in your hand and says, “Put on your big girl pants and suck it up!”

I have not looked back since! I look the world in the eye. I speak my truth, and if it helps someone else…I have created a piece of beauty and saved a life! It is not easy, but I can look myself in the mirror and know that that nightmare is NOT speaking, Not writing, not living my truth.

So, speak your truth, stick your chin out, look the world in the eye….fortitude is of no use if you don’t strengthen it with a good work out now and then!

Guest Writer Bio:
Holly Dawn Hewlett is a published poet, Slivers of My Soul on Amazon.com. Her passions are print media, Pitbulls, and Reduce Reuse and Recycle! She is an Energy Consultant for Ambit Energy, working to save people money on their electricity and natural gas bills, check out www.Killthemeter.energy526.com

The Tools You Use Can Change Everything

December 11, 2013

clancy

Clancy Metzger Motivation Writing Tools 1 Comment

Years ago when I was still in the I-Want-To-Be-A-Writer-But-I’m-Not-Writing-Yet phase, I had a crappy desktop computer. It was old, it was big, it was slow and to use it, I had to sit in a less than comfortable chair at a less than comfortable desk. I didn’t write much. Then I met someone and we began collaborating on a book together. I was inspired and writing – at last. It was not ideal and while I was at least following my dream to be a writer, it was still a struggle. The tools I had available were slowing me down.

Not too far into the process, I was visiting with my dad who lived in another state and I rarely got to see. In talking about how I was doing, I mentioned my struggle with my computer. My dad was always a techie, even when tech was barely available. He told me I should have a laptop computer. I scoffed – first, because I was not very tech savvy at the time and second, because I had no money to buy a laptop. Heck, the crappy desktop I had was a hand-me-down. So, I kept plugging away at the story I was writing and doing the best with what I had.

A few weeks later, I received a way-early Christmas present. Two large boxes arrived on my doorstep that contained a brand new laptop with all the bells and whistles and a new printer to go with it. Just remembering that day is making me cry as I type this.

My dad had invested in my dream. In my future – as a writer. He believed in me and gave me the tools to go for it. No excuses. That was such an amazing gift. I finished that book on that laptop in a big comfortable chair in my bedroom and a character was added to it that was inspired by my dad.

Since then, I’ve received many gifts of faith and support in my writing, but that first gift from my dad gave me the confidence and responsibility to believe in myself. Investments in my dream since have included attending the Superstars Writing Seminar and recently getting a newer laptop, though I’ll never part with the one my dad gave me. My dad died several years ago, but not before he got to read that first book I ever wrote.

Your tools are important and can make all the difference in the world, but then so can one person’s belief in you.

The Fan Club

December 6, 2013

Evan Braun

Evan Braun Motivation Publishing The Writing Life 5 Comments

The Fan Club On the evening of November 7, a small group of readers gathered at my parents’ home to hear the first reading from my new book, The City of Darkness. This was the pre-launch, and it was reserved not for close friends but rather the people who had responded the strongest to the first novel in my ongoing series, which had been released two years earlier. (An unconscionably long gab between books, by the way, but that’s a subject for a different post.)

It was an interesting mix, to say the least. If I had merely invited close friends and family, this would have been a very different sort of evening from what it turned out to be. We would have snacked and visited… and yes, had a few drinks. We would have talked a little bit about the book, I would have shown them the cover art, and then we would have moved on to other subjects. It would have been comfortable.

Not that it wasn’t comfortable. It certainly turned out that way. But this was a combination of people unlikely to get together for any reason except to discuss my book. Over wine and cheese, they peppered me with insightful questions about the plot and characters, about where the story was heading, about how many books I would publish in the series and when they would be released. It was heady and strange.

At some point in the evening, one of the guests sidled up to me and remarked, “How does it feel to have your own fan club?” I smiled politely and waved her off. This was no fan club. A book club, kind of, but a fan club? Movie stars have fans. J.K. Rowling has fans. Me? I have a few readers, sure, but…

Thankfully, I knew better than to say any of this out loud. As I walked away, I realized how wrong I was. My self-deprecating side had shown up right on cue to downgrade the compliment, but the more I thought about it, the sooner I realized that these were my fans. And all I had done to accumulate them was write a book, and then another book. Some of these people had known me for years, and others I really didn’t know at all, but they all had one thing in common—their appreciation for my writing.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. What a powerful gift it is to have readers—and not just any readers, but sharp and intelligent and engaged readers.

Well, my fan club is small, but I am so grateful for what they have given me. It’s now impossible to do any kind of writing without thinking about them, and the thought of them spurs me to write faster. And hopefully better. When I’m sitting on the couch watching TV, the thought invariably occurs: I should be writing. These people are waiting for me, and I shouldn’t make them wait a moment longer than necessary.

Just two nights ago, all of my marketing efforts culminated in my actual launch. It was held about forty-five minutes away from the small town where I live, at a big bookstore. I had worked hard to ensure an exciting turnout. My fans, too, were exerting a lot of pull to draw people in. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that they were willing to do all this legwork for me, but nonetheless, the work got done, and I could sense that the launch was going to be a big success.

When I woke up on Wednesday morning, all ready to do my final preparations—practice my reading, gather my notes, decide what to wear, etc.—I heard the sound of a keening wind outside my bedroom window. My heart began to race as I ran to the front door and looked outside. Snow, snow, everywhere snow. There was a storm advisory. More than a foot of snow had already accumulated on my driveway, and I knew it would be hopeless to try backing out of the garage through it. Worse: I knew it might be hopeless to drive forty-five minutes through open countryside to get to my launch. Even worse: Assuming I could get there, would anybody else brave the trip?

Over the day, the emails and Facebook messages poured in: “So sorry, Evan. I was planning to come, but I’m snowed in! Good luck this evening!” After about a dozen of those, I was good and truly discouraged. I wanted to hide in a dark corner and just forget the whole thing. How embarrassing it was going to be to venture into this big venue and sit in an empty room after months of preparation.

But I practiced my reading, anyway. I gathered my notes. I decided what to wear. And I made the drive, though it took a bit longer than usual. Certainly, the turnout would be down from what I had anticipated. I feared being alone. I feared being a complete failure.

Well, the turnout was down from my original expectations. Down by two-thirds. Maybe more. But something wonderful also happened. As the minutes ticked by and I waited nervously, people started to arrive. First just a handful, then a dozen, then two dozen. Three dozen. Four. On an evening when I didn’t think anyone would care enough to brave some of the harshest winter conditions imaginable, more than fifty people came. And among them were so many members of that fan club—not to mention many new members, who will surely be invited to my next pre-launch soiree. A few feet of snow, high winds, and barely navigable roads weren’t enough to stop them from having to wait even one more day to read my book.

Talk about humbling!

I’ve often said that writing is reward enough. If need be, I would write for the sole purpose of entertaining myself. I’ve said those things and I will continue to say them. But as of today, I can say a new thing: from now on, I don’t have to write just for myself. I’ve got a fan club—and they have my back.