Accountability Partners: Colleen Winter & Lori Twining
I have a simple goal: I want a writing career.
Unfortunately, it is not as simple as quitting my day job and writing the damn novel. Other things factor into a writing career, besides having money to pay the bills. In 2021, as a writer, it is essential to have a social media presence, network with others, be searchable on Google, be knowledgeable and experienced with the craft of writing, have an agent, have a publisher, and the list goes on and on. It is endless.
I have been thinking a lot lately, actually ruminating, about my method of creativity. It occurs to me that I write blogs, memoire and psychological reports in basically the same way. I always have to draft something in long-hand, then let it sit for a minimum of 24 hours or sometimes days or weeks. Until now I always labeled that as procrastination or laziness. But truly I get too much done every day for those nouns to be accurate.
I know that my mind has always gone a mile a minute as they say. When I was a little girl, age 7 or so, I would hide under the covers and use a flashlight to read after being told by my parents to turn out my light. By the time I was 13, I would lay awake until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning listening to U.S. Radio Stations playing rock and roll. It is any wonder I was late for school 4 out of 5 days a week? When I was in University I ‘pulled-all-nighters’ in order to cram for exams or write essays. And my grades were always good provided I was interested in the subject matter.
My phone emits a blaring warning: A tornato has been spotted in your mobile area. Take immediate cover.
I go outside to stare at the sky. It’s not windy, not even raining. I check the weather app and news feed: A tornado has touched down twenty kilometres away from our home and is heading toward us.
My writing mojo has disappeared. Again. After good progress with character development in recent months, the ever-elusive and serendipitous inspiration has evaporated.
Waiting to stumble upon inspiration or hoping it will somehow just show up is not working. The muse is not going to surprise me and strike like a thunderbolt.
Most writers already know this. Understanding the theory is one thing but now the reality is becoming all too clear.
This is me making excuses and I am tired of my own whining. Writing requires a commitment to work harder. Plain and simple.
What does one do when a year of pandemic stretches on and on promising never to go away? What does one do when the faith one had in the ‘powers that be’ wanes to such an extent that one can no longer imagine a future of any predictability whatsoever? Well, if you are me, you have a “wake up” stroke.
The literal meaning of that phrase is that a stroke occurred very deep within my brain while I slept on April 21, 2021. Fortunately, the literal side of things are all on the mend and my rehabilitation will be complete on June 10th. The part that’s going to take substantially longer is the figurative side of that “wake-up” event.
I saw a Tweet the other day from Canadian author Andrew Pyper promoting a course he’s teaching on writing suspense and it reminded me of something.
Pyper is a good writer. I’ve read some of his books before and he’s the kind of writer who has the skill and talent to write any genre he wants. Those are the kind of writers I like to read. But what his Tweet reminded me of is that for a romance writer such as myself, there are many little tricks in the suspense author’s bag that can be helpful to a writer like myself.
Currently I’m reading Don Winslow’s “Broken”, a collection of novellas based on his drug cartel fiction series that includes “The Power of The Dog”, “The Cartel” and “The Border”, all based on the Mexican drug war. I love Winslow’s books because they’re fast paced, very suspenseful and well written. He knows how to tell a good story, and that’s why I’m reading “Broken”. Read more
Today is Easter Monday. For some of us, that means it is a day just like any other; only you have a chocolate hangover to go with your early morning coffee. Other people get another day off to add to the already extra long weekend. I’m jealous.
Last week, Seana Moorhead wrote the blog post, The New Social Writer. If you didn’t get a chance to read it, go HERE. Seana talked about registering for an online leadership course that runs for a year, but they started with a two-day virtual retreat online together.
When I heard about this, I couldn’t help but smile. I, too, applied for a virtual writing retreat in early January with the #5amwritersclub on Twitter. I got in! I paid my fee, and then I started to panic.
My weekend retreat is all about writing, not leadership. Honestly, I’m quite worried about how it is going to go for me. I’m stepping way, way out of my comfort zone on this. I’m usually more of a loner when it comes to writing. Plus, I rarely share my work with anyone. I show my husband and possibly one other writer, but that’s it. I don’t want so many opinions on how shitty my work is that I get confused on how to fix it. Read more
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about death and dying.
Mostly it’s because I’m starting a new romance novel that features a character who is a death doula (cue the jokes and the confusion about writing a romance novel around death, haha!). But I suppose it’s also because I’m in the latter half of my own life now and have elderly parents and in-laws, and so it seems like the right time to delve into this great and final mystery. Plus, I like to challenge my writer’s self with unusual topics.
There is another reason, too. Frankly, I’m a bit haunted.
A former colleague and friend died more than three years ago after a very sudden and short terminal cancer diagnosis. He was only in his early 50s, with two teenagers at home and a wife who was battling her own health issues. He didn’t want to go, understandably so. In the short time he had remaining after his diagnosis, he could not come to terms with his own dying. He became depressed. He cheated himself out of talking about it, of comforting his family, of allowing himself to be comforted, and of coming to some kind of peace with how his life was going to end. Things progressed so quickly, that my goodbye had to be in the form of an email that was read out loud to him. Read more