A Great Quote

If you can come to such friendly terms with yourself that you are able and willing to say precisely what you think of any given situation or character, if you can tell a story as it can appear only to you of all the people on earth, you will inevitably have a piece of work which is original.

— Dorothea Brande, Becoming a Writer

Revising: Do Not Disturb

I gave myself until the end of August to finish my revision. As of this writing, I have six days and a few hours left. In between, I have a bit of editing to do, and my husband is hoping we might spend some time cleaning the house this weekend, as the past few weeks have made it too hot to move around here, let alone snap on some rubber gloves and wield a toilet brush.

In other words, no major blog revelations this week. But if I do manage to meet my self-imposed deadline, I'm sure I'll have a lot to say in about a week. Until then, I hope you all manage to enjoy what remains of August — which, ideally, should include getting your hands on some frozen lemonade, either via your nearest Del's, or using this to whip up some of your own.

Stay cool,

K

Seducing the Muse

In a perfect world, I'd be able to write at will, whenever and wherever I choose. But this is not the case, sadly. While I am working towards an easier, more open relationship with my muse, we're on uncertain footing now. Summoning her takes effort. 

In many ways, it's like seduction; just as one might dim the lights, break open some bubbly, and put on some Barry White to inspire a romantic mood, I have certain rituals to inspire a creative frame of mind. These things include:

ISOLATION

I can't write in a coffeehouse, I can't write on a train. I can't even write with other writers in the room. Other people are just too interesting to me, and I get distracted.  When I really need to get the job done, I need to be alone, with the door closed and the lights low. If I lived in another era (and had a few more zeroes on my bank statement), I'd be one of those writers who checks into a hotel for a month or so. My muse loves hotel rooms.

COFFEE

Decaf is fine, but regular is much more effective; the caffeinated buzzing in my brain tends to quiet the negative you're-a-hack voices, and the jitteriness prevents me from dwelling on any one issue for too long, which is especially helpful with first drafts. Sometime I find that even the act of making coffee can wake up my muse and lift my spirits.

MUSIC

As I've mentioned, I am prone to distraction. I can't listen to music with lyrics while I'm reading or writing — I end up on a tangent, singing along to Liza Minnelli's cover of "You're So Vain" (which is fabulous, buy the way) or thinking how that certain song by The Cure reminds me of an old boyfriend. Even music without lyrics can be distracting for me, if it involves heavy percussion or syncopation. So I stick to classical music. In particular, there's an album called "Bach for Book Lovers" that I find really effective; it offers just the right amount of background music.  It lulls my muse, and allows me to tune in to my work while tuning out everything else.

CREATIVE CONFIDANTS

On the occasions when I'm not sequestered (preferably in a 4+ star hotel room) with good coffee and the right music, it helps me to stay connected with other writers or otherwise creative people.  I have a few really good "writing buddies" with whom I talk shop at least once a week; it's a great opportunity to offer and receive encouragement, work through story problems, and feel a general sense of camaraderie, that we're all in this crazy writing game together. Regular creative communication can be incredibly invigorating and inspiring. While my muse doesn't do well in crowds, she can't survive in a vacuum, either.

What do you do to get yourself (and your muse) in the mood?

Things that Currently Interest Me, August Edition

1. A new summer office (better late than never)

2. Homemade peach pie, with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream

3. These Crocs, for rainy days (yes, I wear Crocs sometimes, don't be a hater)

4. Julie and Julia

5. Finishing my revision Bird by Bird-style, one chapter at a time

6. Keeping my new houseplants alive

7. The season premiere of "Mad Men," and whether Joan is going to marry that awful doctor/rapist

8. Reading fabulous books by esteemed colleagues, such as Laurel Snyder's Any Which Wall, Jumping Off Swings by Jo Knowles, Going Bovine by Libba Bray, and Geektastic, anthologized by editrices Cecil Castellucci and Holly Black (whew, link-a-palooza!)

9. Listening to the Kossoy Sisters

10. Not getting too bummed out about being a year older

And you?

"A squid...or a pebble...or a policeman."

Writers and editors might not always see eye to eye, but we can all agree on one thing: 

This is hilarious.

Things that Currently Interest Me, July Edition

1. The Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell

2. Nurse Jackie, my new (anti)hero

3. A tall glass of freshly-squeezed lemonade, with or without a shot of homemade limoncello

4. Spending a long weekend sitting by a pool, doing absolutely nothing

5. Realizing my shoulder pain may be all in my head

6. A date at the drive-in

7. Icebox cake 

8. Being invited to other people's cookouts, since we don't have a grill

9. Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, which compels me to travel — and, of course, EAT

10. A finished, however wonky, first draft. (More on this tk...)

And you?

Sabbatical, Part Two: Retreat to Move Forward

When we last left moi, I'd enjoyed my teaching gigs at Rhode Island College and Lesley University, and was preparing to depart for my very first writing retreat.

Of course, I've attended retreats in the past. But this was my first experience in attending one as a writer, and not an editor. I must admit, I was a little bit nervous about the whole thing at first, especially when I saw the impressive roster of attendees. Would I find a way to fit in with these brilliant authors? I wondered. Or would I feel like a complete impostor? And most important, would I be able to get any work done?

I was pretty nervous about the work part. At that point, I had about forty pages completed of my first draft, and while I liked what I'd written so far, I'd been away from the story for a while, and was worried that I wouldn't be able to recapture the same level of breathless, miraculous creative energy I'd felt in writing those first chapters. I worried that what I'd write would be serviceable, but not up to the same standards. As I've been doing a lot of work on my house lately, I can equate it to painting half a room with one can of paint, then finishing the other half with a different can of the same color; the final product is often close, but not an exact match. So I went into the experience with one goal in mind: to write ten pages. I felt confident that I could at least make that happen, and of course, I didn't stipulate whether or not they had to be ten good pages.

Thankfully, the experience started off with a long car ride with a friend. I love a road trip, especially when the following elements are on-hand: good conversation, good music, beautiful weather, breathtaking scenery, and a fast food pit stop. In this case, it was check, check, check, check, and check. By the time we arrived, I was already exhilarated and inspired. 

The retreat center was, in a word, gorgeous. (Photo above of the view from the porch just outside my room.) And our gracious co-hosts thought of everything — when we arrived, we were given paper and pens, chocolate, and a wine glass. What, no wine? you ask. Oh, you just wait.  As the other attendees arrived, we all situated ourselves in our rooms, then met on the second-floor deck for a meet-and-greet, where we enjoyed snacks and wine (finally!) and a make-your-own-wine-charm station! I used alphabet beads to make mine, which spelled out JUST WRITE.

But that was the least of my charming experiences. Throughout the afternoon and evening, I spent time meeting and chatting with my fellow retreaters, all of whom were beyond lovely and amazing. I felt infused with creativity and goodwill (and more than a little vino), and so, after dinner, I found myself a comfy seat on that back porch, a view of Lake Champlain before me, and I started to write.

What I wrote, unfortunately, was terrible.

The next morning, I would not be daunted by the experience; I decided to write through it.  I didn't go back into my story at first, but instead did some journaling about the bad experience I'd had the night before, which led me to spend some time writing out some character studies.  I realized that in the time I'd spent apart from my story, I'd lost touch with my characters; that's why my reunion with them the night before had been so awkward. As soon as I figured that out, I was back on track, and this time, the writing came easier. Still, it wasn't as magical as it had been during that initial forty-page frenzy, but I was moving forward. I just kept telling myself not to feel discouraged, that I just needed to keep writing, that whatever was imperfect about the story could be set right eventually.  Slowly, slowly I went, and before I knew it, I was ten pages ahead. I made sure to journal again, because I find it just important to write about the high points in my process as it is to recount the low points.

In between, there was great food. And coffee. And conversation. And more great food. And then, more wine, along with a recounting of all we'd accomplished that day, complete with celebratory leis. (Insert joke about getting lei-ed here.) When it was announced that there would be a reading after dinner by those who were willing, my initial reaction was that I'd opt out. But I came to the eventual conclusion that I needed to read, that this first retreat experience would not be complete for me without writing and sharing my work with others. I needed to be brave.

I needed a barf bag and an oxygen tank or some combination of the two at first, when I found myself in front of the mike. But as I started reading from those first chapters, I was reminded of how much fun they were to write; it turned out they were just as much fun to read. And my audience, my fellow writers, my friends, were enjoying it, too. Really, I think the boost of confidence that reading (and the response to it) gave me was both the last thing I expected and the very thing I needed.  Because when I returned home and finally went back into the story, that positive feedback helped to move me forward.  

In fact, just a few weeks later, I was faced with something truly surprising: a finished first draft.  Once I got past the halfway point of the story, I wrote a rough ending, which served as the light of the end of the tunnel. Then I sequestered myself in my room with a pot of coffee and some classical music, and went at it; five hours later, I was done, and experiencing a combination of shock, euphoria, and over-caffeination. 

Many thanks to my fellow attendees at the retreat, Swinger of Birches, for being so welcoming and inspiring.  You helped me to feel like a real writer.  And that helped me to act like one.