Tags: discomfort

Finding A Room of My Own

by ScrivaMichelle
Published on: March 7, 2012
Comments: 1 Comment

For months I’ve been struggling to find time to write in my working-mom-juggling life. I’ve tried writing at home, but there are too many interruptions and distractions. I’ve tried writing at a coffee shop, but I feel guilty if I stay more than a couple hours, which is about how long it takes my brain to get moving.

I have been intrigued by the strategy of fellow Scriva, Liz, who also has kids and a busy work-at-home life. She has a full writing day once a week, away from home. She begins her writing day with exercise (to clear her head and get into the writing mindset), then she walks to the library and writes on her laptop—undisturbed by phone calls, emails, children, husband—for eight hours!

Doesn’t that sound glorious!?!

Well it did to me, so I thought I should give it a try and see what happens. But I had a number of challenges to solve: what to do with my kids and where to do my writing.

First, I found a Boys and Girls Club in our neighborhood and discovered that for $5 a year my kids can take the bus from school to their facility. There they do their homework, play in the gym, read, whatever until my husband picks them up. My clearly sheltered kids were a bit horrified by this option when we took our tour (“Mom, it’s so loud and crazy!”), but they’re on week three now and so far they haven’t been stabbed or gotten lice. I keep reminding myself, “It’s good for them!”

Second challenge—where to write. Lucky Liz lives close to the downtown library with its wonderfully quiet Writer’s Room, so she can walk there and doesn’t have to pay for parking. Not an option for me, so I found a library close by that has street parking and plenty of tables to write at.

Challenges solved, I packed up my laptop and some snacks, and I headed off to write. My plan? To sit, butt-in-chair, and put words on the screen from noon (when they opened) until 8pm. The first trip was a learning experience. Here’s what I learned:

  1. Be thoughtful about your snacks. Within a few hours I craved something besides the gorp I’d brought, which of course distracted me, so I had to waste time walking to a store for new snacks.
  2. Don’t forget the coffee. After I drank the cup I’d come with, it was pretty much all I could think about. Yet another reason to stop writing—must go buy cups of coffee.
  3. Bring an iPod. While there were plenty of tables to sit at, none were empty. I was always sharing space with someone who was either watching TV on their laptop (why come to the library for that?) or playing a videogame. I was easily distracted by the soccer game or sitcom next door.
  4. Think about your butt. Those chairs at the library are unpadded. After a couple hours my butt cheeks were numb. Another excuse to get up and browse the library shelves instead of writing.

Yet even with the distractions, I was amazed at how much writing I got done in eight hours. The next week I went back armed with a grocery bag of snacks, thermos of coffee, butt pillow and iPod mix. Lo and behold, I got even more writing done.

It’s working!

And even though my kids grumble a bit about the two hours they spend at the Boys & Girls Club on Wednesdays, when I mentioned a new editing project I’ll be starting soon, they asked in worried tones, “You won’t have to work on Wednesdays, will you? How will you get your writing done?”

So if you, too, are having difficulty making the time and space to write, why not give it a try? Just don’t forget your butt pillow!

My work’s been critiqued and I feel (add descriptive word here)… More on PCSD

by Amber Keyser
Published on: June 20, 2011
Comments: 1 Comment

Recently Nicole posted about PCSD (“post critique stress disorder”).  Her words seemed to resonate with readers.  What writer hasn’t had the experience of receiving a marrow-touchingly thorough critique only to sit and wonder what the heck to do about it?  Roni Loren went a step further and detailed (with hilarious pictures) the Ten Stages of Revision Emotions on her blog.

Here’s the teaser (paraphrased):

“Dammit, that makes sense.”
“I can totally fix this.”
“Oh, Sh*t”
Lalalalala, I can’t hear you.
Drowning in my beer.
Hello, Muse.
“Happy Dance Time”
Mania
Peace
What? You want another revision?

Take the time to read the whole thing here.   We’ve got some posts planned to take on how to revise based on critique so stay-tuned!

Innies & Outies: Respecting Differences in Critique Process

by Amber Keyser
Published on: May 26, 2011
Categories: Critique Process
Comments: 3 Comments

Recently Addie posted When Talking is Better Than Writing.  It really resonated with me because I am one of those people who will spew words about anything and everything.  I love talking about my work in progress with anyone brave enough to bear the onslaught.  So my comment was something like “Why the heck doesn’t everyone talk about their writing all the time?”  In her typically gentle way, Ruth reminded me, “Amber Dear, sometimes the work is fragile for a while.”

Hmm… Cogs turned in my head.  Yes, I could see that.  Sort of.  But I am not very fragile (usually) and my work/ideas can take a beating.  Then one of our brilliant readers sent an email that illuminated this cobwebbed corner of the writing process (and maybe my marriage, too!)

She said:

I have learned over the years that there are basically two major groups (though most likely there may be shades of gray in there as well). Inward processors and Outward processors.

I am in the latter group. Things make so much more sense when I can talk it out.

Innies get so upset when Outies want to talk before *they* are ready. Outies NEED to talk before they burst into flames.

Ah-ha!

I should have realized this before since I (like our reader claimed to be) am an outie married to an innie! It’s taken me a decade of marriage to be comfortable with the way my husband works through things and for me to realize that if I want to process out loud, I should grab an outie friend before I subject my husband to my unformed ramblings.

As for critique, I see now why one of my previous groups was so disastrous for me. It had a rule that the person being critiqued could not speak or ask questions.  I might as well have been hog-tied in the corner with duct tape over my mouth.  No asking questions?  No discussion?  It was stifling. Does that mean it was a flawed structure?  No.  It means it was a bad fit for me.

There are both innies and outies in the Scrivas.  Outies are more likely to bring an idea and run it by us before writing.  Innies may wait until the entire first draft is done to start sharing.  Sometimes we have heated discussions propelled by questions asked by the writer about her work.  Sometimes comments are shared and then allowed to lay fallow, taking shape in the writers mind slowly.

I think one of the secrets of Scriva mojo is that we each feel comfortable asking for the kind of eyes we need on a manuscript. Therein lies the key… the writer drives the discussion so that it takes shape in the way she needs it to take shape.

 

Law School, Critique, and Creativity

by Ruth Tenzer Feldman
Published on: May 23, 2011
Comments: 2 Comments

case law

An eon ago in law school I studied the 1929 case of Hawkins v. McGee. Here’s the plot: Hawkins injures his hand and goes to Dr. McGee. McGee says he’ll fix that hand as good as new. He does a skin graft from Hawkins’s chest, resulting in the hairiest palm you ever did see. Hawkins is not a happy camper.

In class that day, my professor let me get nice and comfortable arguing for poor, hairy-palmed Hawkins. Then, bam! He forced me to defend Dr. McGee. Unfair! How could I make the case for such an unscrupulous quack?

Now I see how well my law professor would have fit into Viva Scriva. The Hawkins-McGee flip pushed my brain to get comfortable with the uncomfortable.

Discomfort puts our brains on alert. It can spark curiosity, if we are lucky—or fear, if we are not. Too much discomfort and we freeze. Too much comfort and we stagnate. The mental gymnastics of a Hawkins-McGee exercise helps us to find the right balance that keeps us moving. It’s a way to shake up the primordial soup that nourishes creativity and sustains a good story.

A critique group session works best for me when it travels into the discomfort zone and then assures me that I’ll somehow manage to turn my discomfort into a better manuscript. So my advice to you: Get comfortable with discomfort. Argue the other side. And watch out for skin grafts.

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Welcome , May 18, 2012