A Creativity Ritual

I need something to slap my imagination into working.

Life has been pretty staid lately. I’ve already complained about it — the lack of scenery, the lack of creative forces, etc. Time to not complain.

When my editing is over (at least on the current novel, which is three out of four), it’s time to spend some time in creative freefall.

This will involve some sort of ritual — A bubble bath, some rose-scented spray, a candle burning, some fresh paper and fountain pens. Free writing, possibly based on one of the novel ideas (pun intended) I have sitting in a drawer that I haven’t felt passionate about). Possibly based on short story ideas.

I need to do something besides edit, I think. Although I have another novel that needs a rewrite. Maybe I should go there. But I am so, so bored of editing that I think I need a recharge.

Really fluffy towels

This is the Grotto (spa) at The Elms in Excelsior Springs, MO.
I wish I was there right now.

Editing Apocalypse (for the fortieth time) is a real bear.

One moment I think it’s looking good, the next I know I’m feeling discouraged. I feel I have it all together, and then I think it’s missing something. I forget I’m reading for character and start changing grammar in sentences.

It’s a frustrating time.

I think it may be time to go on to something else. I need to make a poster of my latest research for an online convention poster session. Great idea, I think. My mind is tired of six hours of reading a day. Of course, it will take me at least six hours to do this poster, so …

Sigh. I need to take a break. One that involves a spa and really fluffy towels.

How Easy it is to Quit

As someone who has started many projects and not finished them, I feel uniquely qualified to talk about how easy it is to quit something.

I have three sourdoughs in the refrigerator downstairs that, if I don’t feed them soon, will expire. I was supposed to feed them yesterday, but said “I don’t want to go through the trouble.” But if I say that day after day, the culture will die out.

I have to push myself to keep the momentum.

This relates to my writing as well. If I don’t write this blog every day, it will probably expire. If I don’t work on polishing or writing or rewriting daily, I will probably abandon writing.

The things that are easy to quit have no immediate rewards to keep me going. It’s human nature to seek immediate reward, and it’s human nature to conserve effort. Doing the things that are easy to quit, then, requires a longer view and an ability to find reward in the process rather than the result.

So I write this blog daily, even though it’s easy to quit. The rewards are nebulous (I average 40 readers a day right now, but hope for more) and I find value in the experience of writing itself.

A Fresh Set of Eyes

I never appreciated the value of a fresh set of eyes until now.
I’m making some needed repairs on Prodigies right now after not looking at it for a while, and — wow. I am finding ways to make good enough into great (I hope).

It seems overwhelming at this point, but I know this latest edit is only making my work better. This is one of the reasons I am glad I haven’t decided to self-publish — because I’m impatient and I think my stuff is good coming out of the first draft (it’s not; I just get excited about things) and I would publish before things were “right”.

I love the process of learning my craft. I get so frustrated sometimes when I don’t get an agent or publisher, but then I learn something new (like Save the Cat plotting) and improve my work.

I hope it’s worth it. That’s always the fear, that I’m spending too much time polishing something that may not get published. On the other hand, it’s gratifying seeing something improve even more.

Hubris

I am re-editing Prodigies again, this time for character development of the secondary characters. This whole discovery process has been humbling. I am hoping that, when I tear everything down like this, that what’s left of my work is worth publishing.

That’s the thing — I don’t mind being wrong. I don’t mind not doing things right — who am I fooling? I hate making mistakes and I grovel to the universe every time I do it. But I’m seeing new things every time I do, and I’m fixing new things. (And I have other novels that need the same treatment, damn it).

Maybe this note is my groveling to the universe. Dear Universe, I’m sorry I made you read my mediocre books. I’m sorry I thought I was a big thing when I was making big mistakes. I’m sorry I ever thought I didn’t need dev editors and beta readers. I am making amends, and I hope they’re good enough.

Now I need to go and write.

Reflecting on six weeks of isolation

This is the view from my window”

Gloomy, isn’t it. The window is right by my downstairs workstation, however, where I do most of my writing. Sometimes it’s sunny. Sometimes I see people walking past and cars driving by.

This is my life under quarantine.

So are my experiments with sourdoughs. Today, a loaf of yeast water no-knead bread (Henrietta) sits on the stovetop, waiting for its time to bake. (Yeast water is different from sourdough in that you have what amounts to a weak wine working on the bread dough).

So is my writing. I took a break from adding a stronger beginning to Prodigies yesterday; I should be able to finish that today and then go through the book to adapt things.

So is coffee. Between my husband’s roasts brewed in a vacuum pot and the Nespresso machine for mid-afternoon cups, I’m covered.

So are the fountain pens I’m collecting — All under $25, mostly Japanese (Pilot Metropolitan, Platinum Plaisir) and German (Lamy Al-Star), and a really inexpensive Jinhao that looks like a Lamy made by Rubbermaid). This and ink is where my allowance has been going the past few months, as I like collecting practical things I can use.

So is my teaching online. And the Zoom faculty meetings.

I don’t have it too bad, despite the view out my window being very limited. My husband and I still have jobs that allow social isolation. We have money for groceries. We have four cats. We have each other. We’re staying healthy.

This quarantine is so much harder for so many other people.

Unmotivated

I’m not feeling it today.

Some days, I don’t feel like writing, and today is that day. I need to write that next chapter to Prodigies (the revision adds four chapters, maybe 5). I need to write this blog (I am writing it, but it’s taking a lot of will to do it.)

I’m tired (still). Maybe the coffee will help.

A change of scenery would help, but I can’t go anywhere!

The best remedy for procrastination in my opinion: Write for five minutes. If you want to quit after that, do so. But chances are you’ll want to write more, once you’re in it.

Except today. I don’t think it’s going to work today.

Maybe the coffee will help.

The Incomplete Dev Edit

Right now I’m adding for chapters to the beginning of Prodigies, in order to reveal the character better and capture more of the spirit of Save the Cat (in other words, placing the character in her before life, setting a theme, introducing a debate).

What frustrates me is that this book went through a dev editor, and I in good faith thought that I had done what I needed to in the book, only to be tipped off by a thoughtful agent who rejected me: “I loved the beautiful description you started with, but I lost interest in the characters.” I had to figure out for myself, given what I recently learned about plotting from Save the Cat, what I needed to do. This is something I couldn’t have figured out myself, given my familiarity with the characters, and something I needed the dev editor to pick out for me.

I’m ashamed that I sent this out to query with this kind of flaw in it. I have found similar flaws in other books of mine — I start right into the action, and apparently this is bad.

I wish someone had told me.

A Sunday Morning in the Age of COVID

(There was to be a picture here, but for some reason I can’t get my pictures to mail to me.)

Sunday mornings in my house:

This much hasn’t changed: Classical music in the background — today it’s an album of violin concertos.

Coffee — currently we’re drinking a store-bought coffee; usually we drink beans that Richard roasts himself.

Cats — there are four, although one seldom comes upstairs. One of them, Girlie (the patched tabby with the attitude) is sitting next to me. She helps me get my work done.

Now, in the time of COVID: Breakfast is usually cereal, but in the quarantine I’ve discovered that I like playing with sourdough starter, and so sourdough bread as french toast is the featured meal of the day. I will make more sourdough bread later. I’ve named my starters: Marcy is a Polish whole wheat starter, Horatio is a home-captured wild yeast, and MarcyxHenrietta is an accidental batch that got spiked by the yeast water known as Henrietta.

My computer — I work on my writing on Sundays. Normally, I would be on my way to the cafe to write for a while. Now I write in a corner of the living room, burgundy and gold. I hate to be far from the action, which is part of why I used to write at the coffee shop. I miss the coffee shop.

The view through the window — all the snow from the freakish snowstorm has melted, and the sky is a blue-grey. I need to get out, even if it’s just a trip in the car to the local park.

Today, for some reason, feels like Easter (which it is for the Orthodox faiths) and I have hope that we will rise from this pandemic a more thoughtful people.

Collecting Kindness

Today, one of my favorite Internet Cats, Maya, is #collectingkindness. Toward this end, she is asking people (I love the imagery of this) for pictures, poems, essays, etc about what they consider kindness to be.

To me, kindness is giving without calculating a return, without regarding how the other compares to you relative to color, race, ability, socioeconomic status, sexual orientation, or religion. Just giving, whether that be a smile, a favor, a conversation, recognition, love. No strings attached.