It’s kind of ironic the last book I wrote was about a young woman who struggled to find her way back to who she had once been, to doing what she had once loved. I say it’s ironic because that’s exactly what I’ve been going through for the past couple of months. I have not written a word, or even had the desire to do so. There has been an illness in my family and things were looking pretty dire. It’s amazing how your creative juices can be completely doused when your entire being is consumed with the uncertainty and fear of losing a loved one. When we write, the words come from our heart, from our soul. If those parts of you are already at capacity, there is little time or desire to tell a story. My son, who is an aspiring writer himself, was told by a co-worker that his book was not good. I wondered if that person knew how painful that can be to a writer who has just put part of themselves on a platter for the world to dissect and hopefully treat kindly. I have a feeling not. Anyway, for as dire as the prognosis of my loved one was, there is a new ray of hope. He is responding to an experimental treatment and the dark cloud that has been hanging over our family has scuttled quietly to the west. Still there, still within our vision, but moving far enough away to allow a little bit of light into our world. So for now….I can write.
Tag Archives: writing advice
“Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person.”–F. Scott Fitzgerald
I remember when I was a teenager, I thought to myself that no one really knew who I was. In true teenage form, I pretended to be who my friends wanted me to be. I was the sweet one, the understanding one, the one who never rocked the boat. It wasn’t who I truly was, it was just what the group needed. Even now, many years beyond my teens, I’m different people. At work, I’m the responsible one, the one that never says “I don’t have time.” To my family, I’m the problem solver, the one who always has a solution in times of trouble. If you ask my sons, they will say I’m the mean one, the one who over-reacts when we wait too long to get seated at a restaurant. Sorry, but I thought two hours was an excessive amount of time to wait. I didn’t yell, I just expressed my displeasure. There are few people who know who I really am; sometimes I even forget who I really am. Writing brings you back to yourself, though. Writing has a beautiful way of emptying your mind of all of the noise and focusing on the new world in which you want to live for the next three months. Fitzgerald was right. We are a whole lot of people. Sometimes I’m brave like Amy (Wait for Me). Sometimes I make really bad decisions like Grace (Saved by Grace). Sometimes I want to stick my head in the sand like Ellie (Second Chance). All of those women in my books are me and I’m those women. I’m in the middle of a life transition right now. We’re packing up our house in the Midwest and moving to Florida. My parents need me and as a friend said, it’s a nice thing that they live in Florida and not North Dakota! My writing is on hold but in a few months (if the real estate market is kind) I should be back at the keyboard while watching the sun set over the Gulf. I don’t have the main character figured out yet because I don’t know who I’ll be in the Spring. I’m looking forward to finding out.
When real life invades…again
I’ve written time and time again about how writing takes dedication. It takes commitment. It takes your full concentration. Well, so do your parents. My dad became ill during my parents’ first week in their new home. He ended up in the hospital while my mom remained in the middle of stacks of boxes, unsure of even where her silverware was hiding. My husband and I headed for not-so-sunny Florida and helped set up their household in between visits to the hospital and sleeping in a very uncomfortable bed. It was a pretty bad week. Like a true writer, though, I kept filing away my experiences for later examination and use. For example, what type of person thinks it is okay to let his dog sprawl out on the couch in a hotel lobby? I want to know more about the two older women who came to the grocery store in a golf cart and bought flowers and wine. Why is the security guard at the front of my parents’ neighborhood taking his job way too seriously? Then there’s Dee, my parents’ friendly neighbor, who was raised in the Bahamas and told us the history of her home country as well as making us a pie from the oranges off my parents’ tree. My dad’s brother, Uncle Bo, was in town, too. I grew up with my dad’s family but have not had a lot of chances to see them in my adult life. Every time I spend time with them, though, I remember how quirky, funny, and downright odd my dad’s family can be. Scotch-Irish, they are born story-tellers. They are not much into watching television or reading; but they can keep you occupied for hours with their tall tales. Spending time with my dad’s family reminds me of who I am and where I come from. It reaffirms what I do. So, I didn’t write a single word while I was away, but I guess I was on a sort of a research trip. It’s nice to be home again, though, and feel the keys beneath my fingers.
My 10 Commandments of Writing
As a licensed therapist, I spend my day being a cheerleader. For eight hours a day, I tell people that they can do it, they can get better, they can rise above this difficult time in their lives. As an aspiring writer, there are times that I could use some cheerleading. I love writing and I love what I write, but there are days that I wished for more affirmation. Today is such a day. So, before I totally let myself fall into a pit of self-pity and self-doubt, I have decided to establish my 10 Commandments of Writing.
1. Remind yourself why you write. You write because you love to tell stories. You don’t write to make money (good thing) or for accolades. You write for the pure pleasure of creating a story.
2. Read more. Never stop learning the craft. Study what you like and what you don’t like.
3. Stop perusing your book sales spreadsheets. When you tie your art into your finances, one or the other is bound to suffer.
4. Don’t take rejection so personally. Allow yourself a ten minute pity-party, then move on. You can’t get into the minds of publishers or agents or advertising sites, so stop trying.
5. Take pleasure in other’s successes or at the very least, don’t resent them. Sure, the pinch can hurt when a book that you wouldn’t touch again with a 10-foot pole becomes a best seller, but good for them! It might be your turn next.
6. Remind yourself how satisfying it is to finish writing a book. There’s no feeling like it. Waiting for your first sale, your first review–knowing that someone in this world is out there enjoying your hard work is a priceless feeling.
7. Remember that every day is a new day; one with endless possibilities. My brother is a photographer and aspiring filmmaker and we have talked about how every day we are both just one phone call, one e-mail, one text away from greatness.
8. Don’t allow self-doubt to eat away at you. Like anger, resentment, and jealousy, self-doubt is a selfish, destructive emotion.
9. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that you will ever give up writing.
10. Just shut up and write.
My drug of choice
I have had a bad week. Details are not important, but this week sucked. By the end of the week, I was a bit of a madwoman, looking for more things to piss me off just so I could rant and rave about what a bad week I was having. In the midst of it all, though, I kept writing. I kept writing mainly because I am an overly-disciplined, neurotic rule-follower and I have a set-in-cement rule that I have to write something….anything….every day, no matter what. So, I wrote and I was reminded of why I write. Just like reading, writing is a form of escapism. Writing whisks you away into another world and insulates you from the harsh realities of life. One night this week, as I was positioned carefully in bed with an ice pack and ibuprofen, I began writing and before I knew it, hours had gone by and I had written one kick-ass chapter. I hadn’t thought once about work problems, my back being out, family issues…I had been totally lost in my writing. I’m a pretty “straight as an arrow” kind of girl—-I’ve never been tempted by drink, drugs, gambling, or other vices. I’ve never craved them like I crave writing. Writing is necessary to my sanity. Just like Alice couldn’t resist the little bottle marked “Drink Me” I can not resist the blank pages that demand “Write Me.” Writing is my drug of choice.
I’ll start…you finish
“A writer only begins a book. A reader finishes it.”–Samuel Johnson
I was talking to one of my patients today and we were discussing how much we both enjoyed reading. She told me that she loved to read because she could make the people and the places in the story whatever she wanted them to be. I asked her what she meant and she said, “The characters can look like whatever I want them to look like. The setting is what I want it to be.” Now, as a fanatic reader, I know she’s right. When I read, all heroines magically look like me. If the author describes a character or a setting in such a way that it doesn’t feel right in my head, I just change it. That’s what readers do, right? As a writer, though, it took me aback to think that someone might do that to one of my books! These stories were gifted to me by my imaginary friends. I gave birth to these tales and, frankly, it wasn’t always an easy labor. As I mulled over her words, I realized that I was looking at this in the wrong way. I write to share my imagination, my fantasies, and all things scary, lovely, and weird. If someone is enjoying my work enough to meld their own dreams with mine, that’s pretty cool. It’s all very kumbaya, but I like the thought that we’re all connected in our literary world. I’ll start the book, you finish it.
Sandy Huth 