Procrastination At Its Finest

I REQUIRE ASSISTANCE.

Not really, but I do need to bust this bad habit I have developed with old age. I continued to put off everything I had set my mind to do for four solid months in a row. I have yet to touch my underdeveloped and mistreated novel in progress, started and never finished fifteen scholarship applications because I cannot face the fact that I graduate next year, and I have yet to open a non-school related book. A monster is the definition of what I have become, and I am wondering if there are any other beasts I can converse with over this matter. My dearest authors and beloved writers; how on earth do you stay motivated?

Well, a fire has officially been lit under my rear. I have recently been given an opportunity to possibly intern at a local newspaper, so I really need to kick it in gear. Plus, I have a darling mother who continually reminds me that "if you have a book published, I'm sure any college would love to pay for you to attend". Yes, I understand. Stop telling me. Please.

Is there a secret to this whole "being a successful writer" thing? As in I should start meditating and making sacrifices to the gods of literature; because I would totally slay a raven to honor Poe or fight to save John Coffey for the sake of Stephen King, maybe even create a man out of spare parts or take a journey to the center of the Earth. Is my lack of triumph in finishing something because my name is lame? That would make more sense than anything else honestly.

Or, I can blame school! Yes! That is the thing to do; blame the educational system for my troubles like a good student would do. I have been working awfully hard and all I have to show is a pathetic grade in Calculus and a thirty minute master piece in English. (What is that? Well, I'll have you know that I wrote a magnificent research paper in a little over half an hour. I received a perfect score on the AP grading scale. Horn tooting is over now...) Don't believe me? Check it out.

In all seriousness, I do not believe there is a secret. Immature and undisciplined, lacking the ability to create deadlines for myself. I do hope that trait begins to shine through in about a year or so... Either way, I have great respect for anyone how can finish writing anything at all. I barely finish my blog posts, and yet, I always manage to finish my pizza. In the near future, a way to combine writing and eating should be created. (No, restaurant reviewing is not what I am thinking of, but nice try.)

This is my year of finishing. This year I shall finish what I have started; including my brain-child "The Pond", at least a few scholarships, and even finish a work out because I know that is most definitely needed. Jordan should hold me to this, just like my mother; I want the book finished and ready to take to San Antonio this summer to pitch it. If it is not ready, I am not allowed to go. And I am not going to miss an opportunity to see the lovely Jordan Dane so expect great things come.

I hope everyone had a safe and pleasant holiday season, and if you did make a resolution or two, I hope you stick to 'em. (:

Why Hipster Glasses Saved My Writing

Fear. 

Unknown. 

Questions. 

Doubt. 

Sometimes, being a writer means not having all the answers. Most of the time, this is okay. Not having the answers means we have to search for them. Create them as part of the stories we write. And that’s something we’re all generally good at, or at least enjoy. But sometimes, when the doubt keeps coming, not having the answers is terrifying. Questions turn to doubt. And, if you’re like me, you find yourself spiraling from question to question and soon forget what your original question was. 

“Why can’t I figure out this story!?”

“Can I do this?” 

 “I suck!” 

"Why am I so hungry?” 

"Should I Google this more?"

"Is this - IT IS! This is insta-love! NOooo!"

“These words are horrible.” 

“I am even good?” 

As writers, I’ve found that many of us find doubts quickly. This, of course, is not valid. As writers, we create worlds and love and stories. We create people. Of course we’ll have concerns, but doubting our abilities to do the very thing we love? No. The key is to find ways to help, to stop the doubt and change it into something positive. 

 Enter hipster glasses. 

For me, I have certain things I go to that help with my creative process. I’ve found that doubting myself stemmed from not having a plan, not being able to create. So, if I find ways (even if they are silly) that help me create and focus on tasks at hand, that doubt comes around less and less. 

 1) I have hipster glasses that make me feel smart. Okay, I know they don’t make me smart. But I like them. And, if we’re being serious, I like the way they block the room so I HAVE to focus on the screen. Plus, they make me feel kind of like a writer, and that's half the battle.

 2) I have candy. Specifically, jelly beans and Sour Patch Kids. Sugar helps, don’t let anyone tell you differently. 

 3) I have friends. One of the best pieces of writing advice I got was this: LIVE LIFE. As writers, we often find ourselves sitting by a computer. Often alone. But if we go outside for even an hour, it helps get those creative juices flowing. I don’t know about you, but I always find myself inspired when I’m NOT at home. 

 4) I have writer friends who GET IT. Sometimes, there is nothing better than talking to someone who gets exactly what you’re trying to say before you even say it. 

 5) I have goals. While I don’t write from outlines, I do set goals for myself. And if I fail to meet those deadlines I can’t do things. I’ll tell myself that if I don’t meet my August deadline, I can’t buy a book. And, you guys, I want that book. 

 6) I hate odd numbers. * 

 So, hipster glasses for the win. And if hipster glasses aren’t your style, find something else that makes you think. Even if it’s silly. Even if it means walking away from your writing for a little while. Sometimes, instead of letting our writer doubts take over, we need to find ways to continue to be creative. The life of a writer is by no means stress free, but it is a good life. A great one, if you let it be. And I really wouldn’t trade this life for anything. 

 *I really do. So I had to make this even. Nerd. Alert.

David James writes books about stars and kisses and curses. He is the author of the YA novel, LIGHT OF THE MOON, the first book in the Legend of the Dreamer duet, as well as the companion novellas, THE WITCH'S CURSE and THE WARRIOR’S CODE. A Legend of the Dreamer anthology, SHADES OF THE STARS, will be released NEXT WEEK. Check out his FACEBOOK for exclusive teasers and giveaways.

Those Boys in the Basement

Ever have those moments when you've slaved all day over a hot keyboard and gotten in all your pages and so you think, okay, I deserve a break today? (And, no, I don't mean a Big Mac and fries.)  Or let's say you've been fretting all day and you just can not, for the life of you, figure out how to tweak something to make that plot go?  In either case, you get up, walk away, head out to the gym--and then <DOH> it hits you, that Bart Simpson moment: how you're going to have to go back and tear up about five of those ten or twelve pages because you messed up.  Or that messy plot point unravels for you?  Or there's something even better you coulda/shoulda/woulda written if you've only been THINKING?  

Ah, but the trick is: you thought of it because you didn't.

In BAG OF BONES and ON WRITING, King calls it the boys in the basement.  Other people call it: muse, the subconscious, the unconscious, the artistic impulse.  Me, I call it both a Bart Simpson moment and a necessary ingredient to creativity: those instances when you have relaxed your conscious attention to a task and, Eureka, the answer--or a reasonable facsimile--presents itself.  For it to work for me, I need to be exercising or out in the garden, out in the sun, or hiking--doing something outdoors.  I have a writer-friend who routinely takes a nap if he comes up against a plot point that just won't fix itself.  Stephen King goes for long walks, and so does his protag in BAG OF BONES.

What we're all doing is diverting our attention from the task at hand.  We're removing ourselves from the surround and environmental cues that not only dictate how we should be behaving (i.e., hoeing a garden is altogether different from tapping on a keyboard and composing sentences) but create the expectations that we SHOULD both create and be creative.  That is, we're taking ourselves out from under the eye of the boss-man, who'll certainly dock our pay if we take one second's extra break than we're entitled to.

We all know the difference in these styles of thought, too, because we feel them and we feel the transitions back and forth.  (Hinky and unsettling, but true.)  Conscious thought is analytic and derivative; that is, when we're focused on a task, we think about it and make judgments.  We winnow; we parse and pare; we don't encourage the weeds.  Unconscious thought is, of course, much more closely related to dreaming, when the mind makes what feel like bizarre associations on the basis of connections we've forgotten about.  Think of the dream's imagery as the brain's attempt to find near-matches, places where your experiences should be slotted.  Those pathways are not logical; they're not derivative; they're a bit like weedy cross-connections: dandelions that worked their way into your cucumber patch because both plants have yellow flowers.

Allowing your unconscious to help you out is a bit like letting the boys in the basement play.  You need to relax enough to allow them to play, and for many of us, that means distractions: walking, napping, ripping out pesky weeds, breaking up of dirt, cooking dinner, doing the laundry; anything that allows your rigorous control over where your thoughts go to slip a bit.

But creativity is still a two-step process.  Yes, you can let the boys play.  They can come up with an interesting and novel solution.  But then you have to allow that solution to become conscious; it has to translate and transfer itself from the back of your mind to the front.  This isn't trivial either.  If you've ever tried a dream journal (I did, waaaay back when I was in analysis), you realize how stupid your dreams feel and sound and how fleeting they are once you engage a secondary, cognitive process like forming words with a pen or pencil.  What felt so logical or emotionally laden in a dream becomes, well, kind of dumb in the translation--and you also tend to forget if you can't find a way to allow the transfer to occur, and quickly.

For me, that means talking to myself, out loud, especially since I'm usually miles from home.  Yes, I get many strange looks because I have to keep talking, or my attention begins to wander again.  (This is both good and bad.  I may lose what I just discovered, but I may also gain something else.   In the middle of the night, if I jump up after a long period of staring at the ceiling and letting my attention wander, then I have a little tougher time deciphering what I meant if I've written it down.  Hearing my own voice tends to sock it home.  Even then, I still forget, which is kind of a pain.  Not to mention the fact that I'm jumping up and down all night long, and the husband is . . . well, a little annoyed.  OTOH, I have a very understanding spouse who doesn't seem to mind talking for a while in the wee hours.  He understands the value of calming the savage beast.)  I know other authors carry notebooks; some talk into digital recorders or their phones.  We all have our ways of translating that play into the work we've secretly been doing all along.

The important thing is to recognize that not paying attention allows us to solve complex problems--BUT that only works when we actually have a goal.  In other words, if you're inattentive and sort of a space cadet and have no real goal or problem or purpose . . . yeah, you're going to flounder, you're going to drift, and no Eureka moments for you.  On the other hand, if you are engaged in solving a complex problem, then not paying attention--not thinking about what's bothering you--will actually help the boys help YOU find the answer.

Now, excuse me . . . oooh, there goes a really pretty butterfly . . .

'Splain It To Me, Lucy!

by Jordan Dane

I’m taught an online writing class recently, hosted by YARWA, the online chapter for Young Adult Romance Writers of America. We’ve chatted about how to get over the hump and finish a book once you’ve stalled out for various reasons. Some people might call this writer’s block, but for me, I refuse to acknowledge anything like that exists. It’s too easy to blame an affliction we seemingly have no control over. I prefer to think my brain is secretly trying to tell me something that I’m not hearing, even though we are close neighbors.



When I can’t hear my brain SCREAMING at me to stop writing, apparently my body can hear that pesky 3-pounds of mush. My fingers boycott me and quit hitting the keyboard or I find many excuses to distract myself—even doing laundry, for cryin’ out loud. Now that’s desperate.





I’ve learned to listen to my body when this happens. It’s my interpreter when it comes to “brain speak.” One way to get me back on track is first understand and accept that my brain is trying to tell me something about the plot, character revelation/motivation, or certain scenes aren’t working and could be better. Usually this part only lasts hours or a day or two, or a good night’s sleep. I’ve found answers for my dilemma in commercials, the NOVA channel, and even have found the complete ending of a book from watching an old skateboard flick, starring Christian Slater, called “Gleaming the Cube.”


But when I can’t find the answer alone, I’ve found a tried and true method for me is cornering ANYONE to listen to me ‘splain it. Usually this poor person is my husband, John. We can chat over breakfast, spending quality time talking about how to kill people and get away with it, or he listens to my ramblings as we drive. (Your gas mileage may vary.) One thing amazes me about this process. It doesn’t seem to matter who I corner or how I ‘splain it, I invariably come up with the answer on my own as I talk it out. It seems the brain needs the mouth to communicate back to my brain. What a weird Détente!


If you haven’t tried this, do it. It will blow your mind. Literally! I’ve concluded that since I spend most of my day in my own head—without speaking—that when I finally DO speak, my brain is listening and finally sends messages that result in solutions. Things I wouldn’t have explored purely thinking about them. Apparently explaining things to someone outside my “brain trust”—whether they ultimately contribute to the process or not is irrelevant—forces me to work things out in a way I can’t do on my own. The act of being more thorough in my explanation seems to be a critical element to my process.


But given the old adage about a tree in the forest, does it take someone else listening to get results to my dilemma? Or is this the first stages of schizophrenia and my way of justifying it? I haven’t ranted to me, myself, and I on this yet. That day might come on its own—along with a nice helping of meds.


Please share with us:
1.) How do YOU jumpstart your writing process?
2.) What have been your strangest diversions when you should have been writing?
3.) For non-authors, please tell us about your best or worst brainstorming session. (This could be from school, work, or a volunteer activity.)


Below is a video on how the publishing industry works from author to store: