Inspirations
Apologies for the late post, but last night my brain had been squeezed dry of words. Why? Because I spent this weekend on a writer’s retreat, typing my fingers ’til the nails chipped and leaping forward on my wip.
This is the fourth year in a row Therese and I, and our romance novelist buddy Elena Greene, have rented a cottage and devoted a weekend solely to writing our novels. Every year we get a ton of writing done. Freed from family obligations and distractions, we write in marathon sessions, taking breaks only to walk or eat a meal. In the evening we come together, compare progress, talk about writing and drink plenty of wine. It’s become an oasis of fellowship and writing that we look forward to all year long. (That’s Therese on the left looking lovely and fresh, as usual. And as usual after a long writing session, I look like a hag who needs more coffee.)
[Note from Therese: don’t listen to her; she doesn’t remotely resemble a hag as you can see for yourself, and she–unlike me–can actually construct full sentences without caffeine.]
Interested in planning a writer’s retreat for yourself? Here are a few tips we’ve learned over the years to maximize writing and fun.
Read MoreWow, we were tagged this week as a site that makes you think, not only by one great peer site but three! Grazie, merci, danke and just plain thanks go out to Melissa Marsh at Grosvenor Square, Nienke Hinton at The Writing Life – All Kinds of Writing, and Straight From Hel’s Helen Ginger.
I tried to compose a haiku of gratitude for you all, but frankly I fear it would’ve felt more like punishment to post it…maybe another time!
In the spirit of the Thinking Blog Tag, we’ve been asked to name five blogs that make US think. I posed the question to all of us here at WU, and here’s what we’ve got for you:
Read MoreSo there I was, wrestling with a scene from the WIP. There’s been a lot of that recently, not to speak of cursing, fidgeting and running off to make cups of tea. It’s got worse since my new editor decided the two books under contract should be delivered in the reverse order, meaning I had to down tools for the current project and get a whole new one written by the same delivery date.
Anyway, there I was a moment later, suddenly in the groove and writing away, and before I knew it a great scene had appeared on the page before me, a scene in which a character interferes with a juggling display by lobbing extraneous items into the mix with mischievous intent, all the while juggling brilliantly himself … I was thrilled with the scene, which had pretty much written itself. But halfway through the celebratory cup of tea, something began gnawing away quietly in my brain. I had read something very like this scene before.
Read MoreWell, this certainly is nice to hear:
You’ve given yourself a challenge when you decide to write a book.
I think it’s the art form that looks easiest. After all “it’s just words”; how hard can it be. That very simplicity is the challenge. It’s just words. No pictures, no sound, no costumes, no actors, no musicians, no frame in a gallery, no special effects wizards at Lucasfilm to build on your artistry to make it complete. Just words.
Every time you read one of my posts about nitwiticisms, or I sound cranky as hell, remember, I would not have a job doing work I love were it not for you.
We, the non-writer people of publishing, don’t say that often enough. We certainly add value. We certainly help you. In the end however, this entire industry is an upside down triangle and the point we all balance on is your writing.
We need your words, and we need you to write them. Don’t ever forget that.
From the acid tongue of La Snark herself no less.
Man, ain’t it easy to run ourselves down? I do it every time I sit at the keyboard. This is crap, my plotting stinks, my dialogue is about as lifelike as cardboard.
I suck.
Therese has had a bad week of writing, and mine wasn’t much better. But the one thing we have going for us is that we’re doing it. Not talking about it, not dreaming about it, but doing it. And so are you.
We don’t give ourselves enough credit for playing the game if we haven’t won it yet by making a sale. And it’s easy to feed our insecurities. But La Snark is right. Our visions and our talents support an entire industry and many tangential ones. They’d be nothing without us.
Remember that.
Now if you will excuse me, I have some writing to do. Maybe you do, too. Go change the world with your words.
Photo by Librakat.
Read MoreShe wore a black dress with a pink sash to match her shock of hair, and she was being sponsored by a funeral home.
“Go on down, they’re dying to meet you,” she said when introducing her benefactors, and the crowd laughed at this, our first inside glimpse of a standout girl in a beauty pageant I helped judge this weekend (how could I not accept the invitation to step into such an alien role?).
She wasn’t traditionally pretty. Aside from the dye-job, her skin was pale, her mouth full of silver, her hair rough cut into a short style. She was slim and moved across the stage with her nerves on display, her smile slight and her eyes pinning us, saying, “Don’t you dare laugh at me.” Fearful and proud, frail and strong; she wore these banners across her chest as well. She was intriguing because she was such a contradiction up there on the stage.
Three of us were asked, in the first round, to judge twenty-five girls based solely on beauty and poise, to narrow the field down to five. There were girls with handicaps who struggled to move and speak cleanly, girls who were overweight and those with mouths full of braces. What was beauty, anyway? A girl genetically blessed with an oval-shaped face, big bright eyes, Jolie lips and Monroe curves? And then, despite the fact that we weren’t supposed to judge on anything “other,” we listened to each girl deliver a memorized essay.
Read MoreI finally joined the twenty-first century and got an I-Pod. Now I usually like to write in total silence, just my imagination and the clicking of the keypad, but a cool gadget like the I-Pod interfered with this habit.
I realize I risk dating myself here, but I’m an old California punk-rocker who cut her musical teeth on the Strokes and Plimsoles. Imagine my delight when I realized I could download juicy tracks from the past without having to buy the album; even better, my taste for Euro pop and ambient could be indulged and I wouldn’t have to pay import prices. A whole new world, this I-Pod brung me!
I’d forgotten how inspired I could be by a well-crafted song. Sometimes the poetry of the lyrics grabs my soul and I’ll rethink ways to put my own words together.
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