Why I write (almost) every day

For those of you who have been following me, you know that I write this blog almost every day, sometimes twice in a day. I write first thing in the morning, right after breakfast, before tending to the other duties of the day. Usually, I write this sitting on my living room couch, lap desk in lap, typing on a Microsoft Surface. There’s usually at least one cat nearby — today, Buddy is taking up Richard’s seat on the couch.

There are many reasons I write this blog daily. The first reason is because it’s a writing habit, I haven’t written on a novel in a couple of months because I’ve been editing prior novels for developmental edits, but I’m still writing. I’m still keeping my fingers limber and my ideas fresh for when I start noveling again. (Is ‘noveling’ a word? My spellcheck doesn’t think so.)

A second reason is because I feel a rapport with my readers. I estimate there are only about 20 of you regular readers, and that most of you are people I know. A few of you I’m pretty sure I don’t know, given that you come from places I’ve never been to like Germany, France, and Portugal. I like to write for you, and I’m glad you’re reading.

A final reason is that I hope to be published someday, in which case I’ll need to have a blog, because it’s what writers do. You regular readers know that I fret about whether I’ll be published, and some days I feel down about it. I feel down about it today, as a matter of fact. Keeping a blog helps me hope that the rest of the trappings of being published — readers, recognition — will come to me.

Dear Reader:

Thank you for reading this blog.

I know you as data — what country hits come from. I know what posts are being read (but not who is reading what posts), and I know what times random people are posting. Here’s what I know about my readers:

1) I have about thirty hits a day on average. About half of those are from the United States. The rest are from a variety of countries, with Germany holding second place. Other regulars have been from France, Canada, Ukraine, Portugal, and Unknown Region are the most regular.

2) Some of you find me through Facebook, which means I probably know you. Some of you find me from Twitter, and I don’t know if I know you or not. Some referring links are from bit.ly and IFTTT. I’d love to know how the IFTTT link works.

3) Some of you are probably bots. For example, I get about three hits a day from a web address that specializes in “web cam girls”. I don’t follow those links anymore.

4) I don’t know WHO you are. I would love to know who you are. If you’re a regular reader, you know I have said this before, because I mean it. I’m the sort of person who would not only like to sign autographs for readers someday, but chat with readers.

Please, if you know someone who would like this blog (writers, readers, my aunt Edna*) please amplify this and pass it on to them!

Love, Lauren

* I don’t have an Aunt Edna.

Writing Every Day

I have been writing this blog for 21 months on nearly a daily basis, and in a few cases, more than once a day. I’ve missed a week at a time during times I was fighting depression, but for the most part I’ve stuck to this blog. It’s become part of my being, part of my definition as a writer.

Writing this blog wasn’t always part of my definition of myself. Neither, for that matter, was writing in general. What it took was a discipline of writing every day.

Writing every day is not an easy thing. First of all, one has to commit to an action that may not feel natural. I write every morning, generally between 5:30 and 6:30 AM (today is an exception; I didn’t get up at my usual 5 am because it’s a snowy weekend). I can guarantee that, at first, writing a blog first thing in the morning was not something I felt moved to do. Now, because of the scheduled habit, I write my blog almost every morning.

Writing in general wasn’t a habit at first. But after a NaNoWriMo or two, I discovered that 2000 words a day (most days; I think my average per day is more like 1500) wasn’t difficult. So I ended up with somewhere around six novels to play around with, and I’ve been writing for seven years.

Right now I’m not writing because I discovered editing time is as important as writing. So I have the goal of editing at least an hour a day, and so far I’ve been pretty successful (but I have about 5000 more words to add to Voyageurs, and this will be a bit tough. Whee.

Habits aren’t very sexy. It’s much more compelling to be that writer who does nothing but write for days, forsaking everything but coffee (or in the case of Coleridge, some prime hash), who shuns responsibility while feverishly writing. In reality, most writers are not that person, nor can they be. So writers need habits to take the slow, sure course of writing.

Although writing binges, within reason, are a good thing, because it’s fun to feel like the crazed stereotype at times.

Getting from goals to accomplishments

Sometimes I write in this blog when I don’t seem to have a lot to say. It’s not because I love to hear the sound of my “voice”, although some would argue I do. Rather, it’s to keep a routine going so I don’t lose a good habit.

Routine is what helps us develop good habits. That, and a reward for doing them, since in the short run doing what we’ve always done feels better. Habits, as unglamorous as they are, are what turn long term goals into accomplishments.

As a professor teaching positive psychology and behavioral economics, I have an interest in the whole idea of how to change habits. The behavioral economics idea behind behavior is that we’re naturally going to choose the immediate reward over the long-term benefit. There’s proof behind this; behavioral economists (including my favorite, Dr. Dan Ariely) do research to support their hypotheses, like any good professor.

I am trying out a program called Fabulous, which helps people develop good habits. It is based on behavioral economics, and Dan Ariely is one of its driving forces. The program uses environmental cues (such as putting your sneakers by the door if you’re training yourself to exercise), social cues (reminders on the app and encouragement), repetition, and rewards (praise and leveling up). I’m not necessarily going to recommend it, because membership costs $50 a year, but I think the reasoning behind it is sound, having read some of the research myself.

To go back to my blogging habit — I have writing on my daily to-do list, along with one hour of writing activities daily. I set aside some time each morning to write; my computer is my environmental cue.

And my reward? Reading the stats on my Blogger page to see people from many different countries reading this blog.

Dreamblogging

I wish I could blog in my sleep. Right now, I’m sleepy enough that I can’t build up a brilliant topic to write, and I don’t want to leave this space blank. If I could sleep and blog, I could blog my dreams while they were happening, without the internal censor of my waking self trying to make sense of them. I might look something like this:

Richard and I are moving out of an apartment which apparently isn’t ours. We’ve been putting this off because we don’t know whether we’re taking the train or driving home, We are all actually in a house where the family is leaving to go on vacation, leaving it to us (who are leaving) and a half-dozen teens who were hanging at the house without making any attempts of cleaning up after themselves. I am standing in the hallway on the cell phone with a friend (let’s call him Kermit) advising him on how to deal with another friend (let’s call him Arnold), who has a rather unique and quirky personality. I go back in and find Richard’s gone, and I can’t get a hold of him on the phone. I search a nearby college union (University of Illinois Illini Union) to no avail. I’m all weepy all over the place for the next day, stumbling through conferences at the Union because whatever. I finally hear from Richard, who acts like nothing happened. He tells me where he is (notice we are not fully packed for the trip to one of two places, either by train or by car, and all of a sudden I’m on roller skates in an upscale shopping mall, trying to find where Richard is. I discover the only way down to another level in the brick hallway along a mirrored wall is a wide, stalled escalator. I wheel onto the escalator, and instead of skidding down the stairs, I hover down them, all the way down, until I lightly touch the ground.

Think about how I would have written that if I was awake. I would have interpreted it: “The moving out of the apartment mirrors our current situation with evicting renters … ” and I would have tried to make sense of it, smoothing out some of the discontinuities and pointing out that, in real life, I neither skate nor hover.

When I write from a dream, I try to capture that wild discontinuity, the more fanciful elements. But I admit I smooth them out, because it’s only human to either want things to make sense or blame the vivid weirdness of a dream on pizza before bed or a bad acid trip. But think about if the above was a less prosaic dream — and it is rather prosaic in topic. How about a dream about finding a commune in the desert populated by immortals who were trying to hide their identities, and then finding out you were the child of one of those immortals and a human? What kind of identity crisis would she have? And what if she were being pursued for the secret she holds, bringing danger to the commune?

That was a dream I had 30 years ago while sick with a kidney infection, where the dream stretched over two days. I’m writing that book now — it’s called Whose Hearts are Mountains, and I hope to get it done someday.

The Valley of Love and Delight

I can’t give up writing.

I hone my words (although sometimes I miss spelling errors) to share my visions of the Peaceable Kingdom, where we have quieted our lives enough to discover the biggest secret in life — each other.

Perhaps what I write is what I seek — less distraction from material things, less status-seeking and dressing for success and hero worship. A place where discussions beyond “How are you?” are possible, and we choose connection over possession. Where people aren’t rejected for being different.

Of course, the utopia in my books is far from perfect. People who pride themselves on being open-minded shut their hearts toward those they view as “other”. Factions stash guns and explosives on the grounds of a pacifist collective, and one of the pacifists delights in slugging the antagonists. The Seven Deadly Sins still exist, even among the good guys. But the Peaceable Kingdom is an ideal, not something to be shunned for power and fame.

Because of their perpendicular shift from dominant culture, my books have a gentle tone to them that is decidedly “girly”. More My Little Pony than GI Joe. My characters have mostly holed themselves up in a safe place, but are under siege from inside and out. The emotional wars trump the explosion of hand grenades. My characters come to realize, however, that they have failed the world in hiding their light under a bushel, as Jesus would put it. If I had to describe my writing in terms of the snarky one-liners that pass for elevator pitches, I would say, “The Friendly Persuasion with otherworldly complications”.

I’m still trying to figure out how much more time I want to spend bashing my head against the outside world to get published. I know I’d rather live in the world I write about, where our hearts strive to “find ourselves in the place just right,” as the song Simple Gifts would put it.

My 250th entry!

Today marks my 250th entry in this blog.

I’m really surprised. Previously, blogs I have started have generally lasted about two entries before I didn’t know what to write anymore. I think this is mostly because they were just journaling, out loud, when I was feeling bad about something. They weren’t so much blogs — they were emotion dumps, and I was so embarassed by them I couldn’t let them continue.

My husband and I (mostly my husband) kept a blog together once. This was more of a journal about our lives — “This is what happened today”. I think the reason we quit writing that blog was Facebook, which is largely a forum of short-form “This is what happened today” essays. Facebook proves that we are all writers at heart.

I tried something new with this blog. A combination of observations about writing, essays about writing skills, and personal works, this blog strives to talk about what it means to be a writer, and that one can be a writer in spirit without ever publishing. I hope I have done what I set out to do.

Thank you for reading!

Thanks again for reading.

Wow. I don’t know what to write today. I think all my brain cells dedicated to writing are all tied up with this novel. Which is a good thing, I guess — I think some of my posts have been suffering in quality because of my latest writing obsession.

I suppose I could take a break from the blog while writing, but — I can’t —

Because I love the attention.

I’m not really an accomplished Facebook writer, because I don’t know how to be one of the cool kids. Honestly. I’m in my own little world sometimes, and someone asks, “How are you?” and I say, “Kitty! Look at the kitty!”

I love that you’re visiting me. I hope I’m not babbling every day, I hope you care about what you read, I hope that I’m giving you an idea about what the mind of a writer, and in this case a cute, cuddly writer who writes about apocalyptic futures (appearances can be deceiving, can’t they?) and cats.

Yes, I will be the first to admit that I can be a little dramatic, especially when talking about finding an agent, editing, and My Mission to Save the World through My Novels. (Capitalized for embarassing self-importance).

But I see you come visit — not by name, but by place: US (the majority of visitors), Portugal, Poland, Ukraine, Germany, Peru, Russia, Costa Rica (I think I know who you are!), France, Canada, United Kingdom (I DO know who you are!), Hong Kong and India (Haven’t seen you folks in a while!) and maybe a couple I’ve forgot.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for putting up with my ups and downs. Thank you for being the anonymous people who make my day.