Green-Eyed Monster

Merrilee pointed me towards an amazing post by Beth Ravis entitled Greater and Lesser, which explores writing jealousy. I cannot stress how much Beth Ravis’ words struck a chord with me. So I would like to raise my hand in solidarity and admit it: I also suffer from jealousy.

I get jealous of those who are published. I get jealous of those who can build an amazing online following. Now that I’ve finished writing one novel, I’m jealous of those who can edit and rewrite quickly. Of those who write better. I’m jealous of those who have the technical skill to make amazing ebooks and websites. Of those who’ve written multiple novels. Particularly of those older than me with kids and partners and careers and all sorts of things and yet who STILL manage to be more productive.

Those that know me call me a perfectionist, an over-achiever. But whatever I do never feels like enough, because there is always someone out there doing more, and doing it better. Because I will always think of myself as the lonely nerd at school, forever on the outskirts, and there is something not right with me because I cannot attain what others do.

I know this is all rubbish. I know there will always be greater and lesser people. Just, sometimes…. Sometimes it’s hard to remember. And Beth Ravis’ post came at a time when I needed a reminder.

“You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.”
– From Desiderata

Weather Changes

Snow is coming down in buckets today in London. Winter is well and truly here to stay.

I huddle down under layers and layers of cardigans and t-shirts and tank tops, artfully ordered to make the combination look semi-intentional. I wrap my fingers around steaming cups of tea, clutching the porcelain so tightly I burn my palms while the backs of my hands remain frozen.

I don’t mind the cold, in small doses. But the onset of winter brings about a strange restlessness, a cabin fever. Part of me wants to stay snug at home, under my duvet. The other part is frustrated that the weather’s so miserable, because all of a sudden staying at home seems a necessity rather than a choice.

There’s something about the winter that makes me write better, though. Perhaps I go out less, have more time to think and edit. Maybe it’s the channelling of that restlessness into creativity. Maybe it’s my way of dealing with Seasonal Affective Disorder. Who knows.

I’ve been quiet on the fridayflash front, but I have been busy writing.

I’m working on a short story horror/dark fantasy anthology which I plan to release early next year. Some of the stories are old fridayflashes, edited and reworked and repurposed. Others are brand new tales. All of them are around the same theme.

Writing around a theme has really pushed my creativity to its limits. How to write a solid number of stories about one particular topic without making them all sound the same?

I am, ultimately, left-brained. While I consider myself a pantser, I always have a plan. I like to do lists and schedules and calendars and deadlines. I like to do lists OF to do lists. So I approached the anthology problem as logically as possible.

I gave myself ten minutes and wrote down every possible storyline I could think of. Then I told myself I couldn’t use any of those, because they’re the obvious plots, the clichés.

That’s where the real work started. Every single story idea I’ve had in the last few months has been twisted to fit my theme. I keep a detailed list, try to avoid similar plots, similar protagonists, similar voices and moods. I take disparate story prompts and mash them up together.

Sometimes it’s like pushing a square peg into a round hole, but I keep trying anyway, keep trying until one day the weather changes, and it works.

Other Sides: From Conception to Publication

Merrilee Faber is one of my favourite writers online: her blog Not Enough Words is always insightful, amusing, instructive and just generally envy-inducing, and she writes some pretty awesome stories.

She was kind enough to have me as a guest blogger, rambling about the making-of for Other Sides: 12 Webfiction Tales, including some general advice on how to make a short story anthology of your own.

Do head on over and check it out.

Lessons in Livewriting

On Monday November 22nd, somewhere approaching midnight, I became a livewriting survivor. Why? Because I had just finishing livewriting Chapter 6 of my current webfiction Between Worlds (Book 2 of the Above Ground series).

“Livewriting?” I hear you say. “What is livewriting?” For your viewing pleasure, an excerpt from the AMH English Dictionary:

* * * * *

LIVEWRITE
[liv-rahyt] verb, live·wrote; live·writ·ten; live·writ·ing

1. to express or communicate in writing at the time of viewing; a writing performance
2. to form characters, words, etc. on a screen before a live audience, using a keyboard or similar means: Livewrite your story in Google Docs
3. to produce as an author by setting down words before a live audience: to livewrite three novels

Origin
circa October 2009; 1889 Labs.
—Can be confused: liveblogging
—Synonyms: insanity, lunacy, silliness.

* * * * *

Despite reading MCM’s how-to guide, as well as his rules for livewriting, I still bungled things up. I’m starting to think that’s the point of livewriting, actually.

Four things I learned from my first attempt at livewriting:

1. Be prepared

If you’re going to be writing before a live audience, you really need to know what you’re going to be writing about. You need an outline. There’s no time to think. Unfortunately I lost my outline ten minutes before the start and couldn’t find it, which meant my chapter went WAY off-track and broke some plot points. But it was fun!

You’ve also got no time for bathroom breaks or to get that glass of water or to run around the house looking for your laptop charger (guilty as charged). So be prepared!

2. Use your audience!

Livewriting is by its nature interactive. It’s not a one way you-write-they-read process. So when you’re planning things in Step 1, make sure to plan for places where readers can make suggestions. You need to strike a fine balance for these: if you only let readers pick insignificant details like how many grapes a character eats, they’ll feel ripped off, but if you give them too much power they’ll derail your chapter entirely.

It was also nice to sit back a little and let my readers chat to each other while I took a small breather from writing. It’s interesting to see their live thoughts and reactions to your writing, and judge what’s working and what isn’t.

3. Forget about editing

Livewriting is basically a hardcore version of NaNoWriMo. Non-stop writing, get the words down, and don’t you dare go back and edit because there’s no time and no point. Yes, it can get silly, but you can always edit at a later date after the livewriting period is over.

I wrote a chapter of 1,400 words in about 40 minutes. After editing out some of the sillier suggestions and fixing the plot holes, I ended up with a 1,800 word chapter. That’s about double my normal input.

4. Have a glass of wine ready

When you’re done panicking livewriting the adrenaline high kicks in. Make sure you’ve got a glass nearby to celebrate surviving! And whatever you do, skilfully avoid requests for a repeat performance any time in the near future unless you’re sure your heart can take it.

Livewriting is not for the faint hearted. It’s panic-inducing, thrilling, entertaining, and often very silly, but it lets you connect with your readers in a way you generally don’t. It’s an art, a performance, an act of insanity.

I think MCM should start a support group.

On Marathon Writing

One reason National Novel Writing Month — or NaNoWriMo, for those in the know — does not appeal to me is that I have never been a marathon runner. I’m a kindling, a firefly. I burn bright and fierce and am gone tomorrow.

I’ve never been the sporty type. At school I had to do two years of cross country (it was either that or a team sport, yuck.) I was stick thin, all bone and muscle, training three or four times a week for our races against other schools. And I didn’t do too badly, either. But I cheated.

Where my best friend would maintain a steady plodding pace, unfaltering, unwaving, I sprinted. Sprint and walk, sprint and walk. My energy came in bursts, and I recovered quickly. I tried to change but the races where I forced myself to maintain a steady pace were my worst. Perhaps I am just not built for the long haul.

The same applies to my writing.

Write 1,667 words in a day? Fine. Been there, done that. Write 1,667 words a day every day on the same story for 30 days? No thank you.

A marathon is about being committed to one goal to the exclusion of all else, and I have my fingers in far too many pies for that. I’d get bored working on the same project all the time, so I work on many projects in many sprints.

It’s Monday night! I’m supposed to update my webfiction on Tuesday. Sprint, sprint, sprint! Phew, that’s over. I’ll stroll for a bit until… Oh noes, I’m behind on my schedule for that short story anthology! Sprint again! And when that’s dusted I’ll take a week off fiction and write book reviews.

I’d rather run loads of little races than one big one. It keeps me fresh, keeps me challenged. It avoids that dreaded mid-race slump where nothing seems worthwhile anymore and the finish stretches further and further away.

And if you add up all the sprints, well then I guess I am a marathon writer. Just a cheating one.