Guest Bloggers – Page 16

Guest Blogger Jennifer Lynn Alvarez writes about The Book You Were Born to Write.

I recently read The Martian, by Andy Weir. It’s a unique, thrilling, and detailed survival story described as “Apollo 13 meets Cast Away.” I thoroughly enjoyed the book, in spite of all the math equations and the use of the metric system (English Lit. major here). But I’m not writing about Andy Weir to review his wonderful book, I’m writing about him because of something he said in an interview:

“I love reading up on current space research. At some point I came up with the idea of an astronaut stranded on Mars. The more I worked on it, the more I realized I had accidentally spent my life researching for this story.” Andy Weir (Book Browse online interview)

You see, Mr. Weir is a self-proclaimed space and science fanatic inspired by the idea of humans someday traveling to Mars. While penning the novel, Mr. Weir wrote his own software program to calculate the constant thrust trajectories of his imagined mission—all based on real-life technology. He crafted the main character’s wisecracking personality after his own, and supplied him with entertainment on Mars in the form of a crewmate’s recorded 70’s shows, which happen to also be the author’s favorites.

The fact that this book is grounded in the passions and education of Andy Weir is what makes the tale ring true. He used what he knows; space travel, computer science, his own personality, and his childhood interests to imagine a story that is pure science fiction. And The Martian has taken the world by storm. Mr. Weir originally self-published the book, but quickly sold the rights to Crown Publishing. The novel debuted on the New York Times bestseller list. Film director, Ridley Scott, and actor, Matt Damon, will bring this story to life next month in theaters everywhere. (Source: Wikipedia)

So how does Andy Weir’s success apply to us as writers? It all goes back to his sentiment from the interview: The more I worked on it, the more I realized I had accidentally spent my life researching for this story. While the author didn’t set out to write the story he was born to write, he accomplished it by pursuing his passions and his expertise with his pen.

We all have a passion for something, right? I hope so. And we all have expertise, whether it’s studied or acquired through life experience. And the intimate knowledge we have about people, places, things, or relationships can be used to bring our books to life for others.

Readers, literary agents, publishers—they respond to authenticity no matter how outrageous the tale. Personally, I wrote and queried four novels before I sold my first book, The Guardian Herd, to HarperCollins. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense that this fifth book is the one that broke through because it’s the book I was born to write. I’m a lifelong horse-lover, I’m fascinated by politics, and I love reading fantasy. My book series is about five herds of flying horses at war with one another and the special black pegasus foal who will inherit the power to either unite or destroy them. As you can imagine, this upsets the leaders who stand to lose their power. It’s politics, horses, and fantasy all rolled into one.

But what do I really know about pegasi: Very little. What do I know about horses: A lot. I grew up riding and I own a horse now. I applied my knowledge of stallion behavior to all my pegasi, male and female, making them fierce, protective, and territorial. But I also used my imagination to give them ninety-year lifespans, emotions, speech, and strict rules of power. It’s an imaginary world, but it’s informed by my real experiences with horses, my studies of politics, and my formative years of reading animal fantasy novels.

This brings me to my last point, which is about genre. I believe that the book we’re born to write is also the book we’re born to read. When you hit the sweet spot of combining your passions with your knowledge and adding that to your favorite book genre, you will write something truly magical. I can’t promise it will become a bestseller, but I do believe it will find a devoted audience of like-minded readers.

How about you? What are your areas of expertise, your passions? What type of book are you dying to read? Well, don’t wait for someone else to write it, that’s your book.

Here are some equations to help you get started (in honor of Mr. Weir who loves math):

                                   Knowledge + Passion + Genre = Book You Were Born to Write

                                  Computer Science + Traveling to Mars + Science Fiction = The Martian (Weir)

                                  Horses + Politics + Fantasy = The Guardian Herd Book Series (Alvarez)

But don’t worry if the book you were born to write doesn’t immediately pop into your head. I loved horses and knew I wanted to write about them long before I tried it. Instead I filled my time writing practice novels, studying the craft of writing, and daydreaming, and so when inspiration struck, I was ready to act! I encourage all writers to set regular hours, don’t judge your first drafts, and to seek feedback. One day, the big idea will come, and when it does, you’ll be ready.

Note from Marlene: Figure out your equation and just write! Jennifer will be the Writers Forum presenter in Petaluma on Sept. 17, 2015. Join us, if you can. Jennifer will talk about World Building: How to Create Fiction That Feels Real. The Guardian Herd Series Starfire and Stormbound will be available for purchase.

Jennifer Lynn Alvarez is the author of The Pet Washer and The Guardian Herd Series: Starfire and Stormbound and the soon to be released, Landfall.

Jennifer is an active horsewoman and volunteer with U.S. Pony Club. She draws on her love of animals for inspiration when writing her books. Jennifer graduated from U.C. Berkeley with a B.A. degree in English Literature. Jennifer lives on a small ranch in Northern California with her husband, three children, and more than her fair share of pets. Please visit her website for more information.

Follow Jennifer on Twitter @JenniferDiaries
Visit her Facebook page: Jennifer Lynn Alvarez
Guest Blogger Steve Fisher writes about Musical Writing

Writing is a mysterious craft. Part inspiration, part perspiration. This is about inspiration. Or rather one form of it. Music. When I’m looking for a magic tonic of creativity, I turn to motion picture soundtracks.

Think about some of the most effective films you have seen. Chances are they started with a great script, added competent and creative direction, exceptional performances, sublime cinematography and brilliant editing. But perhaps the crowning element was the evocative score. What would Star Wars be like without John Williams’ majestic symphonic score? How effective would Titanic be without James Horner’s haunting themes? How chilling would Psycho be without Bernard Herrmann’s staccato strings? A good film can be made great by the music. A film can also be ruined by a bland or misguided score. In deference to the filmmakers, I won’t cite examples.

So what does that have to do with writing? We’re all affected by music, one way or another. When you sit down to write, play the kind of music that evokes the emotion or atmosphere you are trying to achieve. Take a moment to immerse yourself in the melodic environment. Then try putting pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, ingesting the music continuously as you do so. You may find a new richness wending its way through your words.

Try this for an exercise. Select four tracks of music, each with a different sensation—upbeat, somber, romantic, whimsical. As each plays, write. It doesn’t matter what: poetry, prose, screenplay, essay. They don’t have to go together. Just do it to see how it feels.

When you’re ready to actually use music to work by, be selective. Match the musical themes to the emotional ones you are trying to achieve. You may just find additional inventiveness. And the labors of writing may become more harmonious.

Steve Fisher has written for television, film, stage and print for more than 3 decades. He sleeps in formaldehyde to keep his youthful good looks.
Guest Blogger Hoby Wedler writes about: The Often Over-looked Magic of the Nose: Exploring Smells Around You

I was born blind. Growing up as a blind child forced me to pay closer attention to my nose than perhaps most people learn as children. I use my nose as a method of observing my surroundings, for navigation, to note whether or not food has spoiled, and most importantly to smell, taste and describe food and wine.

It is important to note that not all blind people pay as close attention to their noses as I do. Many of my blind friends walk right past unique aromas that I easily pick up on. Thus, my love for thinking about aroma certainly does not stem specifically from my blindness.

While I love describing aromas of many things, I notice whether they are pleasant, unique, off-putting, etc. I will use this opportunity to describe aromas of a few relatively common areas that I find exciting. I am a part-time wine educator and so I pay close attention to smells. I have found that the best way to get people excited about wine is to describe its aroma and flavor using common things or places they are familiar with. Here are a few of my aroma descriptions to give you a “taste” of how I enjoy describing aroma.

Bars have a bizarre smell because they smell clean to me but also like people. I’d describe the aroma of a bar as a mixture of the type of cleaner they use (usually bleach to keep sanitation), citrus fruit, alcohol fumes, leather (not sure why this one is so present), usually old wood, people, sometimes cigarette smoke, and paper money. I know this is a bit esoteric and strange but it’s the best description of bar smell I could come up with. There are some bars in downtown Petaluma that I think of as having fairly iconic smells. Andresen’s on Western and Volpi’s on Washington come to mind right off.

Other places that have very distinct aromas are banks, movie theatres, coffee shops (of course), parks with lawn and water features, swimming pools (and I’m not talking about right up next to the pool; I am able to identify the pool just by driving by the center where it’s housed), print shops, dry cleaning establishments, to name a few specific places.

If we just focus on our vision, I think we lose all of what we’re discussing to our visual distractions. I’ve spent a long time pinning down the smells of different things I encounter in my day to day life and I find it to be thought-provoking and intriguing.

Being able to describe aroma is like learning a new language. People need to develop an aromatic vocabulary. Smell is another language. For example, if you look at a picture of a dog, you might think of a furry thing that runs around and goes “Woof.” If you look at a picture of a ripe fig, you might think of the fruit and what you know about it. If I hand you a glass with crushed fig in it, however, it may be much harder to come up with the word “fig.” With practice and attentiveness to the nose and aromas, anyone can develop a strong aromatic vocabulary.

Note from Marlene: I had quite an enjoyable email exchange with Hoby stemming from my inquiring if he could describe the “bar smell.” Pinning down that particular smell fascinates me. Hoby came up with leather (yes, leather-topped barstools and booths), wood (of course: stools, chairs, bar top) and money (aha! I hadn’t thought of that). Perspiration. . . (oh, yes,) and cigarette butts in tin can ashtrays, stale beer. I hadn’t thought of using a variety of material to describe “bar smell.” Now, I know . . . use my nose to play detective and capture precise smells. Thanks, Hoby!

I have known Hoby since he was born. As I researched material for this post, I learned more about Hoby that I didn’t know. I am amazed by this remarkable young man and his family. If you have time, click on the links to learn more about opportunities for the visually impaired, what growing up blind was like for Hoby and his family and his zest for life. Hoby credits Learning Ally for being a life-changer.

Henry “Hoby” Wedler is a fifth-year Ph.D. candidate at the University of California, Davis, founder and director of the nonprofit Accessible Science, and host of truly blind wine and beer tasting experiences. Hoby was raised in Petaluma, California where early on he fell in love with beautiful Sonoma County. When he’s not busy working towards his Ph.D. in organic chemistry or leading his blind or visually impaired chemistry camp students in conducting lab experiments through touch and smell, he turns his attention to wine and beer – where he’s passionate about wine and beer flavor, accurate flavor descriptors, and how wine and beer flavor and aroma relate to chemistry.

In May of 2012, Hoby was one of only fourteen individuals honored at the White House as part of President Obama’s Champions of Change program, for leading the fields of science, technology, engineering, and math (STEM) for people with disabilities. The Champions of Change program was created as a part of President Obama’s Winning the Future initiative that recognizes outstanding individuals for the work they are doing to serve and strengthen their communities.

Hoby was inspired by programs offered by the National Federation of the Blind in high school, and with encouragement from professors, colleagues and others, he gained the confidence to challenge and refute the mistaken belief that STEM fields are too visual and, therefore, impractical for blind people.

Hoby founded and teaches at an annual chemistry camp for blind and low-vision high school students. Chemistry Camp demonstrates to the students, by example and through practice, that their lack of eyesight should not hold them back from pursuing their dreams.

Hoby hosts Tasting in the Dark, a completely blind wine tasting experience at Francis Ford Coppola and other Napa-Sonoma wineries. The surprising and enlightening wine tasting, where guests are blindfolded, explores how flavors and aromas in wine are accentuated when experienced in complete darkness. Hoby believes that when a sighted person is in complete darkness, he or she feels more vulnerable and his or her senses become more heightened because vision is not a distraction, bringing out more flavors in a wine or beer.

In 2013, Hoby partnered with Sierra Nevada Brewing Company to host beer tasting in the dark, “Sightless Sipping.” This event, similar to blind wine tasting, allows guests to enjoy beer at an entirely new level. According to the Sacramento Bee Newspaper:
Excerpt from The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury:There was a smell of Time in the air tonight.

What did Time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like, it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box lids, and rain. Time looked like snow dropping silently into a black room or it looked like a silent film in an ancient theatre one hundred billion faces falling like those New Year balloons down and down into nothing. That was how Time smelled and looked and sounded.

Marlene’s Musings: I love the idea of writing what Time smells like. . . sounds like . . . looks like. . .

Your Turn: Choose an item, an object, a thing, that interests you. . . what does it smell like? sound like? look like?
Guest Blogger Daniel Ari writes about Sense And Specificity: The Soul of Great Writing

Great art is about balance. Okay, great art is about a heck of a lot of things. But one thing that makes great writing stand out from the superfluity of all writing is that it strikes a balance between emotional abstraction and concrete specificity.

We want to read about things like devotion, honor and transformation. But the actual words devotion, honor and transformation aren’t concrete enough to sweep a reader away. As I discussed in “How to Make Your Poems Stand Out: Advice From a Reader” for Writer’s Digest online, abstract nouns can’t be grabbed, and they don’t grab readers. And what’s worse, they tend to come in flocks. Once a writer writes honor, then love and respect want to come in. Then deep, forever, and mutual are at the door, having chased away all the beautiful specifics like moonstone, cardamom, and foxtrot.

But luckily, concrete nouns also come in flocks. That’s because when you tell a story or describe a moment, either remembered or imagined, the telling includes all the specific things that make the moment unique and moving. If you want to test whether your writing is too abstract, imagine illustrating it. Could you? If there aren’t enough nouns and verbs to make into a drawing or painting, then your writing may be too abstract to interest most readers.

Allen Ginsberg put it well: “You can’t write about ‘The Stars.’ You can go out one night and see a glitter in Orion’s belt, or see a constellation hanging over Nebraska, and that’s universal. But it’s got to be over Nebraska—particular—otherwise it isn’t universal. If it’s just the stars in the abstract you don’t even see them, so it’s not a living experience. It’s not an instant in time actually observed, and only instants in time are universal.”

What’s universal is the sense of being human that we translate into language as writers and that readers translate back into thought. That’s why concrete sense imagery is so crucial. That’s how the abstract system of language is able to relate living humans to one another—though memory and imagination of sensed experience.

Here are two poems that I think do a good job of being relatable by being specific. The first is one of my own, a draft in a series about a legendary backwoods character named Starlight. The second is by Rebecca Auerbach, and I think it’s wonderful how her imagery isn’t just visual, but also auditory, and even more interesting how the sensation she describes is often the absence of sensation and hunger for it.

“To build a supper”

by Daniel Ari
```
Without matches, I’m sure I could build a fire.
I may be city, but I’m not dumb. I would
just use a lighter. No lighter either? Hm.
Then I’d use friction between two bits of wood
to weave threads of smoke into a baby spark
 
then huff and puff the infant in a hoodie
of soft, dry bark or needles. I’d be famished
by the time the contained blaze could be called good.
Then I’d have to start the hunting or fishing
or just eat miner’s lettuce and blackberries.
 
I wonder how much hungry equals finished.
Lost in the woods, I’d be grateful for Starlight.
She knows a thousand growing things that furnish
sustenance and comfort. She could catch a trout
with a thorn hook—or we could stalk the shoulder
 
of Tyler-Foote Road for fresh (truck-)grilled meat,
a bumper crop of headlight venison.
```
**********************************************

untitled

by Rebecca Auerbach

We used to start with eyes meeting,

exchanging a smile,

then voices,

speaking, sharing names.

Now we start with a photograph & a profile.

If you like the way a man smiles

when he isn’t smiling at you,

the way he introduces himself

when he isn’t meeting you,

you might exchange words without voices,

& if you like what he says when you can’t hear him,

you might consent to speak aloud by phone,

& if you like how he speaks to you

when he has never seen you,

you might

maybe

consent to look into his eyes.

Daniel Ari began dancing to Freeze Frame” by The J. Geils Band at an 8^th grade dance in 1981. He hasn’t stopped. About five years later, he began courting poetry as a practice, and that, too has stuck. As a poet and professional writer these days, movement remains key to his creativity. Daniel recently won Grand Prize in the Dancing Poetry Festival, and his poem about swing will be set to choreography and performed at the Legion of Honor in September. His forthcoming book One Way To Ask from Zoetic Press, pairs poems in an original form called queron, with artwork by 67 artists including Roz Chast, Tony Millionaire, Bill Griffith and R. Crumb.

Daniel Ari will be the August 20, 2015 Writers Forum Presenter in Petaluma, CA
Guest Blogger Alison Luterman talks about “how to be true to the complexity of intimate relationships, while at the same time protecting the dignity of all concerned.”

The other night in essay class, a student read her story aloud. Behind her moving account of her mother’s death, I could sense something missing.

“I can tell from your description what a wonderful woman she was, ” I said. “But there are hints here and there about things that might have been difficult as well.”

“Yes, that’s true,” she admitted. “We got into some tangles, but I didn’t know how to write about that part. Maybe I wasn’t ready.”

I knew exactly what she meant. I also struggle with how to be true to the complexity of intimate relationships, while at the same time protecting the dignity of all concerned. I don’t have any one-size-fits-all answer. I just know that the weight of things unsaid, or said partially, becomes a presence in a poem or story, as much as the words that are actually on the page.

As we continued our discussion, other students wanted to know if they always have to write about “bad stuff” to be considered honest. Aren’t some love affairs or family relationships just sweet? Isn’t mortality, that ever-present shadow of loss that accompanies every human love, enough?

I admit to a certain personal affinity for the shadow. When I was very little, my father assigned me the chore of picking up rocks, finding earthworms underneath, and putting the worms in his vegetable garden where they would aerate the soil. He was probably just trying to keep a six-year-old occupied while he tended his tomatoes and zucchini, but I took my job very seriously. I still like to pick up rocks and see what’s writhing under there. Under the shame, rage, and terror, there lurks raw life energy, that thing we desire and fear the most.

When my friend Carla was dying, she said her favorite word was “bittersweet.” Never had the beauty of life been so vivid to her; never had pain been so intense. That’s the shadow. I don’t know how to get away from it. That’s why there’s a big box of Kleenex on the table at writing class. At the same time that’s why the room often erupts into peals of raucous laughter, and why we all hug each other so hard when our time together is over.

Originally posted March 15, 2015, Alison Luterman‘s Monthly Newsletter.
Guest Blogger Bella Mahaya Carter writes about courage, love, and intuition.

In fall 2014, I attended Hay House’s I Can Do It! Conference in Pasadena, California. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to attend what was being advertised as a “mind, body, and spirit retreat.” The conference featured luminaries in the fields of self-help, personal growth, and spirituality. Looking back over that experience, I felt like a kid in a candy store with a twenty-dollar bill in my pocket.

I’d been scared to go. I was just coming off a year of grief and debilitating anxiety. I’d felt like I couldn’t breathe, and an irrational thought that I’d quit breathing and drop dead in public haunted me. So the thought of being at a venue with three thousand people unnerved me. Why was I going? I asked myself. What was I looking for? What did the words I Can Do It! mean to me? I wasn’t sure, but I felt drawn to the event, and I knew I had to face my fears and go.

The conference helped me identify three staples in my life that have a big impact on my writing: courage, love, and intuition.

As a poet and memoirist, I have to dig down deep inside myself and come to terms with the good, the bad, and the ugly. I have to make peace with my terror, accept what hurts, and understand that a broken heart is an open heart. There’s strength in vulnerability. I often tell my students people don’t care about you, per se, but if your writing is honest and closely observed, they will care about your writing because they’ll see themselves and their own lives reflected in your words. We all have challenges. We all struggle. We all long for freedom from our fears. I love that the root of the word “courage” means heart. It was the first staple I identified, and I want to live more from my heart than from my head. I want to release fear and be guided by love.

Love was the second staple of my writing life. Anita Moorjani, a Hay House author who had a remarkable near-death experience and then wrote Dying To Be Me: My Journey From Cancer, To Near Death, To True Healing, said at the conference, “Love yourself as if your life depends on it—because it does.” Loving yourself means staying by yourself no matter what. It means being your own best friend. It means believing in yourself when nobody else does. It means giving up the idea that you must win the approval of others.

“Don’t dance for the people whose approval you don’t have,” Anita said. “Win your own approval by following your heart.” She also said that many people seek approval from the one person who won’t give it to them. Boy, could I relate. I spent my childhood trying to gain the approval of my stepfather, who couldn’t see or appreciate my gifts. Then, as a young writer, I sought the approval of my father-in-law, whose response to my work was that I should write male characters, because “Not everybody wants to read about women all the time.” If only I’d realized these men were not my audience—and never would be! I wish I’d trusted myself more as a young writer. I wish I’d validated myself, and honored my instincts and intuition. I’ve come a long way, but I’ve learned that valuing and appreciating myself is an ongoing and ever-deepening practice.

Attending the Hay House Conference, even though I wasn’t sure exactly why I was going, and despite my fears, was a sign of growth. I followed my heart and my gut and—as is usually the case when people listen to and act from these body parts—was rewarded. One highlight for me was attending a talk by David Kessler, an expert on grief, death, and dying, who happens to be an old friend. Our kids went to kindergarten together. It was wonderful to reconnect with him after many years, and hear him validate that much of what I’d been going through in my grieving process was normal.

Sometimes we don’t know why we’re drawn to a place or to a project, or to a situation or event. Following my intuition was the third staple in my writing life. This requires trust and faith. I often tell my students that even though they may not be sure where they’re going with their writing, when they follow their instincts, when they listen to that small voice inside, and to the voices of their characters, the work eventually reveals itself. All we have to do is pay attention, though sometimes paying attention is difficult. Distractions uproot us like seaweed in a turbulent sea.

In retrospect, I know exactly why I went to the Hay House conference, and what I hoped to gain from the experience. Inner peace topped my list. And I wanted to feel like myself again, like the person I’d been before my mother died. I wanted to move forward with the writing and teaching careers I’d spent my entire adult life building. I wanted stability, strength, and clarity. I wanted to heal, and to live a calm, inspired, and courageous life. I wanted to quit feeling sorry for myself, stop feeling like a victim, and find some joy. I can do it, I thought driving home from the conference that Sunday night in November—I am doing it!

Marlene’s Musings: Bella wrote a fabulous article called, “8 Tips for Taking Care of Yourself while Writing Painful Memories,” in SHE WRITES. Definitely worth reading these important tips.

Bella Mahaya Carter is a poet, author, teacher, and coach. In 2008 Bombshelter press published her poetry book, Secrets of My Sex. Her poems, stories, essays, and articles appear in dozens of print and online journals. Bella is currently writing a memoir, The Raw Years: A Midlife Quest for Health and Happiness. A practicing Spiritual Psychologist, whose mission is to heal herself and others through creative work, Bella serves clients around the world with her transformational classes, workshops, and coaching. She’s a featured columnist at SHE WRITES, an international online organization serving over 25,000 writers, and maintains her own blog, Body, Mind, Spirit: Inspiration for Writers, Dreamers, and Seekers of Health & Happiness. Visit her online: www.bellamahayacarter.com.
Guest Blogger Steve Fisher writes. . . (and I love it) . . .

Writing. We love it; we hate it. Anyone who has put pen to paper, or in this modern age, fingers to keyboards, understands that sentiment. It’s a process both joyous and painful. When it works—that is, when our brain clicks into gear and coherent thoughts manage to escape the gray matter—there’s no more exciting feeling. When emotions actually materialize on the page, or screen, leaving you feeling drained in the best of ways, it’s the best of all possible worlds.

On a rare occasion I have found myself laughing at something one of my characters said or crying because of something they did. And I didn’t feel like the mystical God creating those words or actions that I was at that moment. Once, I actually walked out my door and ran into my characters. People who seemed like mirror images of what I had just written. It was like something from The Twilight Zone. And it was glorious.

But there are also the times that can only be described as writer’s hell. When the dreaded BLOCK forms. There is no worse feeling of helplessness. No one to call or text or email with a magical solution. It hits us all—the newbie and the pro. We go for runs or walks or drives, we drink, we turn to mind-altering substances of dubious legality. Yet none of that works.

Ironically, the secret cure is within each and every one of us, and it’s very simple. Write. Write anything. Don’t worry about whether it’s good or bad. Don’t evaluate it for worthiness. As in the old Nike ads, just do it. You may end up eventually deleting most of it, but it may just be the jump start you need to write something you’ll read later and say, “Wow! Who wrote this?!!” In a good way.

Steve Fisher has written for television, film, stage and print for more than 3 decades. He sleeps in formaldehyde to keep his youthful good looks.

Marlene’s musings: “Like something from The Twilight Zone.” Steve Fisher writes what I think. How did he do that? I’ve never even met him . . . cue The Twilight Zone theme song . . . Like he says . . . Just write!
Writers! Need to build your cred? . . . or, as they say, need to build your platform? One way is to be a guest blogger. The Write Spot Blog seeks guest bloggers. ~600 words, something inspiring and informative for writers. Contact Marlene if interested. mcullen – at – comcast.net
Guest Blogger Jordan Rosenfeld: 5 Habits of Persistent Writers (That you can adopt, too).

Show me two equally capable writers and I’ll show one who succeeds at her publishing dreams and one who struggles. What’s the difference between them? And no, the answer isn’t luck, or “being born with it.” The writer who succeeds persists. What does this mean, precisely? We hear a lot about persistence–is it just a numbers game, where if you keep submitting the same story or novel eventually it will just magically land? No, that’s blind hope. Persistence is passion + commitment + practice. Below I’ll walk you through seven strategies for becoming a persistent writer, and I promise you the answer will not include self-immolation or losing sleep.

Find a Passion Root: One of the most amazing things about rose bushes is that they are notoriously difficult to kill by chopping or cutting. You can prune it down to a tiny little nubbin, and next season you’ll simply have a fuller, more glorious rose bush. You have to cut out its root, its heart, to kill such a persistent, gorgeous flower. We writers can take a lesson from the rose, even if it’s not your flower—if you can identify those qualities and reasons that make you passionate about your writing—whether you do it for work or pleasure—you will forge a root that is incredibly difficult to kill inside you despite the many vagaries of the field, from rejection to comments from trolls. You do this by identifying why you write, what it means to you, and how you can use it to serve yourself and others.

Set Boundaries: It took me nearly a decade to stop allowing interruptions to my writing time—answering the phone to friends in need, getting up to answer my husband’s shouted-across-the-house questions, or making overlapping commitments that would cut into my writing time. I don’t cancel on my clients, I don’t show up late to appointments, so why would I not treat my own writing time with the same respect? The more you build strong boundaries around your writing time, the more you train yourself and others to treat it with respect (and you’re more likely to get it done). But in order to do this you first have to do the next step:

Treat Creative Time as Work Time: When you sit down to write, especially when it’s NOT for work (but even if it is), you have the right to let your friends, family and pets know that you are no longer interruptible. Shut doors, put up “writer at work” signs, do whatever you can to approach your own writing with serious intent and others will follow suit. Not to mention, the only way to find inspiration is to show up and make time for it. Inspiration rarely comes in lightning bolts, but often comes when you prime the pump and let a little imperfect writing flow first.

Don’t be an Island: The mistake many of us make in this already isolated craft, is to do everything in isolation, perhaps to even take pride in this state of being. But you need the support of other writers who get what you go through, and their eyes on your work to see past your blind spots. I firmly believe in trusted allies you can kvetch to, seek cheerleading from, and rely upon for helpful but critical feedback.

Revise: Many of us writers are addicted to the fresh outpouring of a new draft—that’s the stage at which it feels like release, flowing out of us at last onto the page. And as much as we’d all like to produce finished work on the first try, there’s beauty in the revision process, which David Michael Kaplan calls “re-seeing.” Though you may feel a stab of fear at the idea of having to cut and pare, snip and trim, take comfort in the knowledge that even the NYT bestsellers have editors, and rarely is a piece of writing ever published that hasn’t been revised.

Jordan Rosenfeld is the author of A Writer’s Guide to Persistence, Make a Scene, Write Free (with Rebecca Lawton), the novels Forged in Grace and Night Oracle and the forthcoming novel Women in Red, and Writing Deep Scenes (with Martha Alderson). Her work has appeared in: AlterNet, Brain Child, Bustle, DAME, GOOD, Mental Floss, Modern Loss, New York Times, The Nervous Breakdown, Ozy, Role/Reboot, Rewire Me, Salon, the San Francisco Chronicle, STIR Journal, Sweatpants & Coffee, Washington Post, and The Weeklings.