Can you relate to this? I know I can.

“…sometimes we find ourselves shifting from one idea to the next in an endless series of discoveries. These discoveries change the piece in significant ways. Unfortunately, they don’t lead to progressive development. They lead to our starting over in an endless chain of new beginnings.” Jeff Heffron

I share this because I often think it’s easier to start something than to finish it. The focus and fearlessness it takes to revise and produce a final draft is tremendous.

All kinds of decisions need to be made. Decisions of commitment and ruthlessness and intention. We have to say, “This is as good as I can make it.” We have to let go of what doesn’t work and polish what is working. It’s not easy. I often think that starting on a new tack, when you should be following through on an old one, is like doing a geographic. You’re just running. But if you want to complete a book, you have to stop starting and commit to crossing the finishing line.

So try this: Take an unfinished short story, essay, or chapter out of the drawer and complete it. Work through whatever problems and issues arise of plot, structure, and language, until you have a polished piece. Then write me and let me know of your success!

Onward!

One of the great joys of being a writer came to me when I read an essay of mine called, “Meltdown” at City Lights bookstore in San Francisco. Famous for the likes of Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, and the Beat Poets, City Lights looks and feels like a punk rocker at a prom–a little dangerous and anarchic–but dead sexy, too. It’s the bad boy of bookstores you want to give yourself to.

Writing, it seems to me, involves some danger. A willingness to write wild, to go off trail.

The poet Allen Ginsberg who first performed his famous work “Howl” at City Lights wrote, “Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.” When we write from a place of intense imagination we cease to be conventional– our words are illuminated, luminescent, aglow with moonlight and madness.

How do we follow that inner moonlight? We write fast, we write furious. We stalk an idea into the deep, dark forest, trusting only to our intuition. We learn to howl our truth on to the page, however strange. We don’t give a damn for being liked, and everything for truth. When I wrote “Meltdown” I broke with all conventions. I mixed memoir with nature writing, I used science and poetry. I was consumed by a need to get the words on the page.

So put on a feather hat, dance beneath the stars, put aside every thought of how you will be regarded–and don’t hide your beautiful madness. Just write!

“...With the approach of evening long, blue, spiky-edged shadows creep out over the snowfields, while a rosy glow, at first scarce discernible, gradually deepens, suffusing every peak and flushing the glaciers and the harsh crags above them. This is the alpenglow, the most impressive of all the terrestrial manifestations of God. At the touch of this divine light the mountains seems to kindles to a rapt religious consciousness and stand hushed like worshippers waiting to be blessed. Then suddenly comes darkness and the stars.”

The above piece is by John Muir. He reminds me that word play can be sacred play. A way of using original language to describe a scene and imbue it with loveliness. His words also remind me of the power of looking long and deep at something, never resorting to stale observations or old ways of seeing.

Ready to give it try? Start by taking a look at some of Muir’s images “irised spray…. spiky-edged shadows…stand hushed like worshippers…” Now describe the scene outside your window with the same rapt attention.

Onward!

First thoughts have tremendous energy. It is the way the mind first flashes on something.
–Natalie Goldberg

As I read these words by Natalie Goldberg it strikes me how often I dismiss my first thoughts. Many times my body will literally thrum with excitement––that “tremendous energy”––as an idea or a way of weaving certain images and arguments together comes to me. These flashes often occur when I’m out walking. I’ll notice my pace pick up, my spine straighten, a rush of excitement. I long to return to the keyboards to make my thoughts real. And then, wham, by the time I get home my inner critic has squeezed the exuberance out me and filled my mind and heart with self-doubt.

So what to do?

Well, for starters, learn to write your first thoughts down despite the naysayer in your head. Tell your inner critic that you simply want to get your thoughts onto the page as quickly and as energetically as possible. Reassure your critic that you will not seek to share or publish these words until the critic has had a chance to edit them–at some later time. Don’t dismiss your critic from the process, just delay his or her involvement until your flash of brilliance has had a chance to be captured.

Every time you honor your “first flashes,” you honor your creative spirit. As you become adept at capturing your creative ideas on the page, your critic will learn that you won’t be humiliated or die of shame by speaking your truth. And you just might learn the same.

Onward!

This Saturday I heard the frogs singing. After two months of droughts, a couple of days of heavy rain had brought them out. The choir rang loud and clear from the marshes.

Sometimes our pens don’t sing either. Our creativity dries up. Our song falls silent. As writers, this can be a frightening time. We wonder if we’ll ever find the words again. Has our talent vanished overnight? Are we done for? When this happens to me, I remember the frogs. They go underground to await the rain. But when it comes, they’re ready for it. The first downpour and they emerge from their burrows and start their concert. Just as we, as soon as inspiration strikes, can set pen to paper –or fingers to keyboards!

So don’t beat yourself up when your creativity runs dry. Simply hold yourself in preparation. Stay focused on what you want to write about. Keep paper and pen handy. Take notes. Pay attention. So that when your creativity begins to flow again, you’re ready to write up a storm.

One of the best pieces of advice I ever heard about writing was this: lower your standards. These words were spoken by Kim Stafford, son of writer and poet William Stafford. Kim said “lower your standards” were the words his father uttered when asked by people how they could write as prolifically as he did — a poem a day. In the old days armies would “lower their standards” to show the fight was over. William Stafford was urging us to stop fighting with our creativity. When we lower our standards, we give up the battle. We surrender to our words, be they good, bad, or indifferent. We make peace with our writing.

How will you make peace with your writing today?

Revision means being willing to “see again,” to “start over” if necessary. If you’re committed to making a piece work, nothing can be sacred. You must be willing to let go of all of it.

When you achieve this mindset, question the largest issues such as the structure of the piece, its voice and protagonist. Make a list of several alternatives for every major element. For example, think of three or four distinctly different ways of structuring the piece. Think of several other characters who could be the protagonist. Think of a new way of stating your core point or theme.

Onward!

Mary

Bent over the bone white pages (or the melancholy light from her computer screen) the writer scribes long into the loveless night. To many of us, writers conjure up visions of solitary figures. But is that really so? After all, isn’t writing at its best a conversation between the writer and the reader? Writing for yourself is called journaling. If you are writing a book, you are writing for a reader.

So who is your reader … really? Not just some blurry sense of a businessperson or a woman as opposed to a man. But a real live flesh and blood reader: one that you can see, feel, and touch. The clearer the picture you have of your reader, the more likely you are to have something to say that will entertain and inform them.

So take a moment and write a description of your ideal reader—everything from age, hobbies, interests, beliefs, education, buying power.

And next time you write—write with them in mind!

Onward!

Mary

If you find yourself stalled in your writing, you might be caught in the endless, unproductive loop of editing-as-you-go. Stop! Listen to the wisdom of one very smart bear.

“You can’t help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn’t spell it right; but spelling isn’t everything. There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesn’t count.”
Winnie the Pooh
House at Pooh Corner

Days when spelling doesn’t count, are days when you are busy writing, in the flow. Time enough to worry about spelling, sense, and syntax when you’re in the revision and editing stage.

Onward!

Mary

Only by writing extensively, including keeping a journal, are you likely to find your voice. Editors and writing teachers can help with grammar, structure, and sense– but they shouldn’t fundamentally mess with your style. Your voice––comprised of cadence, rhythm, word choice, tempo, and syntax––is your fingerprint as an author. It’s what makes you, you.

Could you describe your writing “voice” to someone else? What sets your voice apart from other writers? Do you have one voice or several, depending on subject matter and audience? What’s the thing you love best about your voice? What needs the most work?

One way to discover the strength of your voice is to read back over what you’ve written, underlining the words, phrases, and passages that please you. Spend time reflecting on why you like them. Then write from this springboard – I am a writer who….

Onward!

Mary