Tell me, are you happy being a writer?
Are you, by chance, in it for the opportunity to tell people you are a writer and thereby appear mysterious and intriguing to them?
Do you imagine great writers are found the same way great actors are found, stopped by some movie director in a coffee shop who forces his or her card into said actor's palm with super-exclusive cell phone numbers scribbled on the back and claims said actor is just what he needs for the movie he's starting and please drop the boring life and be on location by 6 am the next morning?
Is an editor haunting your town with the 2010 version of Manuscript Detector hidden in the back of a utility van, holding oversized earphones to her head, waiting for that 'ping' that will tell her that somewhere in your house is the Cinderella of all writers just waitiing to be discovered, locked up in the attic with only a pen and paper to keep her company and no singing mice in sight, and therefore forced to write amazing stories of literary genius for a little escapism?
Really?
I'm telling you now that if you are Cinderella look around.
Harder.
Those singing mice are somewhere. And the story about you is much more interesting (which is not saying much) than the story you wrote and you should stick with playing princess and leave the writing to the people who...
WANT IT BAD ENOUGH TO WORK REALLY HARD AND THEN POUND THE VIRTUAL PAVEMENT TO MAKE PUBLICATION HAPPEN!
To those of you whose talents have been discovered by an agent or editor while sipping your Starbucks and typing with one finger, or discovered because Aunt Serina knew someone who knew someone who owed her a favor, the rest of us have a message for you.
Miss on you, Pister.
Remember: Luck without Work is DUMB luck.
Work rewarded with Luck is Karma.
And to my friends who have recently been so rewarded with agent contracts, I dance the Evan Almighty Dance in your honor. Don't watch, it's not pretty.
Ainsley
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Turn Up The Meaning
The following is a quote from Kandisky's book, Concerning the Spiritual in Art, and it was just the ticket for me today. I think my word count is counting too much these days, when I should be paying more attention to meaning.
Don't feel bad--I had to read it twice.
"... In a conversation with an interesting person, we endeavour to get at his fundamental ideas and feelings. We do not bother about the words he uses, nor the spelling of those words, nor the breath necessary for speaking them, nor the movements of his tongue and lips, nor the psychological working on our brain, nor the physical sound in our ear, nor the physiological effect on our nerves. We realize that these things, though interesting and important, are not the main things of the moment, but that the meaning and idea is what concerns us. We should have the same feeling when confronted with a work of art."
So harken back to why you started writing your story, the message you hoped to convey, the emotions for which you went dredging.
Ainsley, changing gears
Don't feel bad--I had to read it twice.
"... In a conversation with an interesting person, we endeavour to get at his fundamental ideas and feelings. We do not bother about the words he uses, nor the spelling of those words, nor the breath necessary for speaking them, nor the movements of his tongue and lips, nor the psychological working on our brain, nor the physical sound in our ear, nor the physiological effect on our nerves. We realize that these things, though interesting and important, are not the main things of the moment, but that the meaning and idea is what concerns us. We should have the same feeling when confronted with a work of art."
So harken back to why you started writing your story, the message you hoped to convey, the emotions for which you went dredging.
Ainsley, changing gears
Thursday, November 19, 2009
EMBRACE THE HORROR...YA.
Inspiration is an amazing thing. Like pennies from Heaven, you never know when inspiration will pour into your lap, clinking for attention, shaking your femurs with the sudden weight.
My legs are shaking now, not with the thrill of an historical romance unraveling in my mind, but with something I never intended to write...a YA.
When Harry Potter came out I had five kids between ages 8 and 12. In their blind belief that their mother could do anything, they pleaded with me to write a Harry Potter. I laughed.
A few years ago Twilight came out. The same children, now older though no less optimistic, suggested I write the next Twilight. Their lives, they reasoned, would be so much easier if I were rich. Having another series of books to read would be an added bonus.
I explained to them my main requirement for writing a book is for the story to drop into my head and demand to be recorded. At that point only Scottish historicals had the coordinates of my skull. YA wasn't even something I read, let alone something that would "speak to me". But boy, is one speaking now!
Do I feel transparent, writing to the market? Absolutely. After all, I'm the kind of character who fought reading Harry Potter books just because the rest of the world loved them. I NEVER love what's popular. Now I feel like the first rock star to allow VISA to sponsor my concert, or like a republican taking campaign donations from oil companies. In spite of my shame, however, I'm going to do likewise and embrace the horror.
This pile of pennies is weighing me down, holding me to my chair, demanding that I write the story. I feel as if my lower half is buried in a silo of oats and I'll be trapped here until the novel is complete. Every time I need a great idea for a scene I hear a clink and holy crap, there it is. The floodgates are washing down the hill, and I'm afraid whatever stands in my way is going to be ignored like the tiny town of Thistle, Utah, which now clutters the bottom of a reservoir.
You've all been here. I know you have. But just which story was it? Which genre? Are you there right now, gripping your lifejacket and hoping your raft stays right-side-up until it's safe to climb out?
And here's another question: When these mudslides/dam-breakers/writing marathons happen to you, do they always seem to happen when your schedules are full, after major events in your life, or do you make them happen? Is it only Nanovember, or have you poured body and souls on your keyboards during other seasons?
Spill. Share.
Ainsley, who is headed to the store for Prep-H, tissues, chocolate, and a DO NOT DISTURB SIGN for her office door.
My legs are shaking now, not with the thrill of an historical romance unraveling in my mind, but with something I never intended to write...a YA.
When Harry Potter came out I had five kids between ages 8 and 12. In their blind belief that their mother could do anything, they pleaded with me to write a Harry Potter. I laughed.
A few years ago Twilight came out. The same children, now older though no less optimistic, suggested I write the next Twilight. Their lives, they reasoned, would be so much easier if I were rich. Having another series of books to read would be an added bonus.
I explained to them my main requirement for writing a book is for the story to drop into my head and demand to be recorded. At that point only Scottish historicals had the coordinates of my skull. YA wasn't even something I read, let alone something that would "speak to me". But boy, is one speaking now!
Do I feel transparent, writing to the market? Absolutely. After all, I'm the kind of character who fought reading Harry Potter books just because the rest of the world loved them. I NEVER love what's popular. Now I feel like the first rock star to allow VISA to sponsor my concert, or like a republican taking campaign donations from oil companies. In spite of my shame, however, I'm going to do likewise and embrace the horror.
This pile of pennies is weighing me down, holding me to my chair, demanding that I write the story. I feel as if my lower half is buried in a silo of oats and I'll be trapped here until the novel is complete. Every time I need a great idea for a scene I hear a clink and holy crap, there it is. The floodgates are washing down the hill, and I'm afraid whatever stands in my way is going to be ignored like the tiny town of Thistle, Utah, which now clutters the bottom of a reservoir.
You've all been here. I know you have. But just which story was it? Which genre? Are you there right now, gripping your lifejacket and hoping your raft stays right-side-up until it's safe to climb out?
And here's another question: When these mudslides/dam-breakers/writing marathons happen to you, do they always seem to happen when your schedules are full, after major events in your life, or do you make them happen? Is it only Nanovember, or have you poured body and souls on your keyboards during other seasons?
Spill. Share.
Ainsley, who is headed to the store for Prep-H, tissues, chocolate, and a DO NOT DISTURB SIGN for her office door.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
THIS IS A TEST: ARE YOU A REAL WRITER?
1. Have you written today?
2. Have you wished you were writing today?
3. Have you emailed, tweeted, read or written a blog today about writing, rejection, publishing, agenting, or the subject of your latest research?
4. Did you check your email before leaving home, hoping to see a name from New York?
5. Did you check your cell battery in case you get THE CALL?
6. Did you check a list or chart to remind yourself who might be calling or emailing so you'll recognize their names as they all scramble for your attention, after a long night of reading and re-reading your material?
7. Did you lose sleep anytime in the previous week imagining one or more residents of New York reaching for your submitted work, the look on their faces as they read, or the times during the day when they may have tried to call but either the phone was busy or a satellite in space lost the connection to your voicemail?
8. Did you try to memorize all the area codes in New York so out-of-state sales calls won't give you a heart attack? (Good luck)
9. Do you keep praise for your writing near at hand, like hiding alcohol in a drawer, for particularly hard days?
10. Is anyone in your family under the misconception that someday they will be rewarded handsomely, and with cash, for all the times they tolerated your eccentricities and various forms of abandonment?
_____________________________________________
If you answered 'yes' to question number one, you are a real writer.
If you answered 'yes' to questions 6, 7, or 8, you are a psycho. The good news is, if you also answered 'yes' to question one, the world will overlook your illness.
If you answered 'yes' to number one and to any of the following--2,3,4,5,9, or 10--you're quite normal for a writer. Especially 10.
If you answered 'no' to question number one, but yes to any of the other questions, shame on you. Return to your word processing program and earn your shingle.
2. Have you wished you were writing today?
3. Have you emailed, tweeted, read or written a blog today about writing, rejection, publishing, agenting, or the subject of your latest research?
4. Did you check your email before leaving home, hoping to see a name from New York?
5. Did you check your cell battery in case you get THE CALL?
6. Did you check a list or chart to remind yourself who might be calling or emailing so you'll recognize their names as they all scramble for your attention, after a long night of reading and re-reading your material?
7. Did you lose sleep anytime in the previous week imagining one or more residents of New York reaching for your submitted work, the look on their faces as they read, or the times during the day when they may have tried to call but either the phone was busy or a satellite in space lost the connection to your voicemail?
8. Did you try to memorize all the area codes in New York so out-of-state sales calls won't give you a heart attack? (Good luck)
9. Do you keep praise for your writing near at hand, like hiding alcohol in a drawer, for particularly hard days?
10. Is anyone in your family under the misconception that someday they will be rewarded handsomely, and with cash, for all the times they tolerated your eccentricities and various forms of abandonment?
_____________________________________________
If you answered 'yes' to question number one, you are a real writer.
If you answered 'yes' to questions 6, 7, or 8, you are a psycho. The good news is, if you also answered 'yes' to question one, the world will overlook your illness.
If you answered 'yes' to number one and to any of the following--2,3,4,5,9, or 10--you're quite normal for a writer. Especially 10.
If you answered 'no' to question number one, but yes to any of the other questions, shame on you. Return to your word processing program and earn your shingle.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
YOU ARE NOT DAN BROWN, SO KNOCK IT OFF!
I say again, you are not Dan Brown...unless you are Dan Brown and you've gotten lost while searching for someone else's blog.
For the rest of you, knock it off!
We, the silly writers of the world, have somehow gotten it into our heads that we are capable of anything any other writer does or has done. If Mr. Whatsit can get a contract for 17 books to be written in a couple of years, or if Thee Nora can crank out a book every two months, or less, we assume they're spinning gold right off their tongues, or fingertips, landing on the hard drive in a perfected state. After all, it's not unreasonable to believe that after you've got your head on straight and that writing muscle pumping like a machine, you are able to pump out fantastic first drafts.
You would be wrong. They would be wrong. We are all bloody wrong, okay?
Of course we get better the more we write. The fourth book is always better than the first, and so on--unless we are burdened with a degenerative disease or an incredibly stubborn pride in every word we write. Yes, stubborn pride is a burden--don't be proud of it! Remember Elizabeth Bennett won the day only AFTER she put her pride aside. So will you. Okay, we.
The point, Nuwanda, is that the only one who might enjoy reading your first draft is you--not your critique partners, probably not even your mother. You are the only one who could think your raw material is brilliant. If you think your first draft, or second, is a gift to the world, you'd be the kind of chef who would advertise two eggs for ten bucks because they have the potential of becoming a gourmet omelet.
I have news for you. No one wants your eggs. Eggs are a dime a dozen, (or a dime each these days).
Recipe for a sellable omelet? I can only guess. Second drafts might crack the shell, but drastic revisions can break them wide open. At this point, it's just a mess without a bit of containment/organization. Using tips from other writers and conferences should add a bit of spice, but you still need to put in some elbow grease and a lot of heat/focused attention.
You selling fresh eggs with great potential?
You may as well be selling blank paper.
Need more professional advice than mine? See this post from Jessica Faust: http://bookendslitagency.blogspot.com/2009/07/good-enough-is-never-enough.html
For the rest of you, knock it off!
We, the silly writers of the world, have somehow gotten it into our heads that we are capable of anything any other writer does or has done. If Mr. Whatsit can get a contract for 17 books to be written in a couple of years, or if Thee Nora can crank out a book every two months, or less, we assume they're spinning gold right off their tongues, or fingertips, landing on the hard drive in a perfected state. After all, it's not unreasonable to believe that after you've got your head on straight and that writing muscle pumping like a machine, you are able to pump out fantastic first drafts.
You would be wrong. They would be wrong. We are all bloody wrong, okay?
Of course we get better the more we write. The fourth book is always better than the first, and so on--unless we are burdened with a degenerative disease or an incredibly stubborn pride in every word we write. Yes, stubborn pride is a burden--don't be proud of it! Remember Elizabeth Bennett won the day only AFTER she put her pride aside. So will you. Okay, we.
The point, Nuwanda, is that the only one who might enjoy reading your first draft is you--not your critique partners, probably not even your mother. You are the only one who could think your raw material is brilliant. If you think your first draft, or second, is a gift to the world, you'd be the kind of chef who would advertise two eggs for ten bucks because they have the potential of becoming a gourmet omelet.
I have news for you. No one wants your eggs. Eggs are a dime a dozen, (or a dime each these days).
Recipe for a sellable omelet? I can only guess. Second drafts might crack the shell, but drastic revisions can break them wide open. At this point, it's just a mess without a bit of containment/organization. Using tips from other writers and conferences should add a bit of spice, but you still need to put in some elbow grease and a lot of heat/focused attention.
You selling fresh eggs with great potential?
You may as well be selling blank paper.
Need more professional advice than mine? See this post from Jessica Faust: http://bookendslitagency.blogspot.com/2009/07/good-enough-is-never-enough.html
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Don't look now, but I can see my CORE STORY
New buzz-topic in the Romance Industry? Maybe not, but it's new to me.
Core Story.
From what I've gathered, it's the story behind all the stories you're telling.
When I first read this, I thought, "Oh, how unoriginal, to tell the same story over and over. I'll be damned if I'll only tell one story."
Well, it looks like I'll be damned.
In the Writers On Writing section of the August 2009 RWR, there is a great interview with Jayne Ann Krentz. She was able to identify the core story she was telling in a paranormal she couldn't sell and that discovery led her to the Regency genre where she did very well.
She made it sound simple. Simple is something I can handle even on my laziest days, so I took a poke at the stories in my brain...
It's like seeing a face in the texture of the ceiling above your bed. Once you've seen it, you can never go back. Every time you look at that spot, you see a chin, an ear, and the spaces where the eyes should be.
Unnerving, really.
I've been unnerved, dammit. I don't know how this is going to help me in future stories, and I don't know if it has ruined me. I do know that I have given myself a 'holy, holy crap' psychotherapy session that may or may not affect the rest of my life. And it was all so simple...
Hell NO! I am not going to share with you my core story. It turns out my core story just so happens to be MY core story, if you get what I mean. You can try to see it in my novels as they come out, but thank heavens the ones who know me best won't be able to pick out such things. Surely. Surely!!!
I suppose the real purpose in this post is, I don't want to go quiet into that good night. I want to rage, and I don't want to be raging alone.
Many of you will think I'm out of my gourd...still, or...again, or...it was just a matter of time.
Some of you may never speak to me again, if you have the violent reaction I'm having.
But I can't help it. And neither can you...yes you!
Right now, you're wondering what in the hell I'm talking about. Some of you don't want to know. Some left the blog after the first manic paragraph, or curse word. But right NOW, in the back of your mind, you're wondering what your own core story is. Well, we're ALL wondering. So take a minute. Look at your current wip. Compare it to the one you recently finished. You were telling a story about a woman who....
Having trouble? Try peeling the story away from her, the genre, the trappings, the story set up. Just look at her. Is she interchangeable with your other heroine? How? What is that thing they both end up doing?
Take a minute. I started typing her basic arc. Starts here, meets hero, changed here. Then I realized my endings were similar--not the way a reader would see them, just in theme--a buried-under-six-feet-of-dirt kind of theme.
Take all the time you need. Then, if you've had any breakthroughs, if your core story eerily reflects your past, or how you wished your past would have evolved, share a comment. If you're like me, and your core story is too close to home, tell me. You don't have to show your core, just let me know if you found it, how it makes you feel, whether or not you're worried you might be found out, or whether or not you'll be able to write a more original story next time.
If I'm the only one out here, I'm going to look stupid, but I don't care anymore. In that same RWR issue, there is also an article called "What Make You Strong Makes You Sell", and I'm selling crazy baby.
Ainsley
Core Story.
From what I've gathered, it's the story behind all the stories you're telling.
When I first read this, I thought, "Oh, how unoriginal, to tell the same story over and over. I'll be damned if I'll only tell one story."
Well, it looks like I'll be damned.
In the Writers On Writing section of the August 2009 RWR, there is a great interview with Jayne Ann Krentz. She was able to identify the core story she was telling in a paranormal she couldn't sell and that discovery led her to the Regency genre where she did very well.
She made it sound simple. Simple is something I can handle even on my laziest days, so I took a poke at the stories in my brain...
It's like seeing a face in the texture of the ceiling above your bed. Once you've seen it, you can never go back. Every time you look at that spot, you see a chin, an ear, and the spaces where the eyes should be.
Unnerving, really.
I've been unnerved, dammit. I don't know how this is going to help me in future stories, and I don't know if it has ruined me. I do know that I have given myself a 'holy, holy crap' psychotherapy session that may or may not affect the rest of my life. And it was all so simple...
Hell NO! I am not going to share with you my core story. It turns out my core story just so happens to be MY core story, if you get what I mean. You can try to see it in my novels as they come out, but thank heavens the ones who know me best won't be able to pick out such things. Surely. Surely!!!
I suppose the real purpose in this post is, I don't want to go quiet into that good night. I want to rage, and I don't want to be raging alone.
Many of you will think I'm out of my gourd...still, or...again, or...it was just a matter of time.
Some of you may never speak to me again, if you have the violent reaction I'm having.
But I can't help it. And neither can you...yes you!
Right now, you're wondering what in the hell I'm talking about. Some of you don't want to know. Some left the blog after the first manic paragraph, or curse word. But right NOW, in the back of your mind, you're wondering what your own core story is. Well, we're ALL wondering. So take a minute. Look at your current wip. Compare it to the one you recently finished. You were telling a story about a woman who....
Having trouble? Try peeling the story away from her, the genre, the trappings, the story set up. Just look at her. Is she interchangeable with your other heroine? How? What is that thing they both end up doing?
Take a minute. I started typing her basic arc. Starts here, meets hero, changed here. Then I realized my endings were similar--not the way a reader would see them, just in theme--a buried-under-six-feet-of-dirt kind of theme.
Take all the time you need. Then, if you've had any breakthroughs, if your core story eerily reflects your past, or how you wished your past would have evolved, share a comment. If you're like me, and your core story is too close to home, tell me. You don't have to show your core, just let me know if you found it, how it makes you feel, whether or not you're worried you might be found out, or whether or not you'll be able to write a more original story next time.
If I'm the only one out here, I'm going to look stupid, but I don't care anymore. In that same RWR issue, there is also an article called "What Make You Strong Makes You Sell", and I'm selling crazy baby.
Ainsley
Monday, August 10, 2009
CHEERLEADING PRACTICE
READY? Okay!
As a new or reinvented writer, is your hook as important as your book?
Yes.
Is your query as crucial as your book?
Yes.
Is your synopsis as important as your book?
Yes.
Voice?
Yes.
Concept?
Yes.
Pitch?
OF COURSE!
WHAT DOES IT SPELL?
P.A.C.K.A.G.E.
You are going to need the whole package to sell that book, team. Now check your pompoms and megaphone. Make sure your shoes are tied and your rockets are in place. (Clean underwear, jic.) Warm up your vocal chords and get out there. This game won't win itself.
As a new or reinvented writer, is your hook as important as your book?
Yes.
Is your query as crucial as your book?
Yes.
Is your synopsis as important as your book?
Yes.
Voice?
Yes.
Concept?
Yes.
Pitch?
OF COURSE!
WHAT DOES IT SPELL?
P.A.C.K.A.G.E.
You are going to need the whole package to sell that book, team. Now check your pompoms and megaphone. Make sure your shoes are tied and your rockets are in place. (Clean underwear, jic.) Warm up your vocal chords and get out there. This game won't win itself.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Agent Stalking is a Good Thing
A writer must have invented "TWITTER".
Seriously.
Wish you could get to know these agents a little before deciding whether or not to query them?
Target/Agent doesn't blog, but does she tweet?
Going crazy waiting to hear back from an agent or two? Wish you could see what their day is like, if they ever spend any time looking at submissions, and why in the world haven't they reached out for yours, which you're sure is sitting right in front of their faces? (ahem)
If I had the capacity for internet program design, and if I were a similarly neurotic writer, I'd invent a program that would seduce agents and editors, and famous writers, to jot down a line or two during their days, telling me just what it was they were thinking or doing at the moment. I'd arrange their comments to be sent to my own little window on their world. I'd make sure I could send off a pithy response or two which they actually may read...sometimes.
I'd make it the coolest thing to join. I'd give it a cute name.
Twitter, maybe. What is cuter than taking a moment to tweet?
Okay, so Twitter may just as easily have been created by someone who likes to stalk others...
Sounds like a writer to me.
Of course it’s not as exciting as stalking them in person, at a national conference, for instance. It’s not as classy as linen stationary correspondence. But it’s great for weeding out agents whose attitude rubs you raw, or who lets it slip that something incredibly close to what you’re shopping around is really not his/her cup of tea, even though he/she requested said cup of tea which is currently sitting on his/her desk, getting cold.
On the other hand, you may find an agent’s sense of humor makes you laugh EVERY TIME she tweets. You see that she just may be the one to GET you. You may find that this perfect agent is going to participate in a conference just a state or two away and if you’re quick, you may get a face to face appointment!
Disclaimer: as someone who has tried to limit her time on-line, joining Twitter was the last thing I had planned to do. But I’m happy I did. My neurosis has lessened. I don’t spend time wondering what an agent is doing. I now have a good guess. I know he or she has a lot more on her plate than I used to think. Client reads, edits, edits, edits, submissions to read, then a hundred more tomorrow. When I get a reply back, I feel a bit more blessed.
So, if you have some stalking to do, I’m just sayin’... After all, that’s what the Indians used to do. Hide in the bushes and make bird calls.
Ainsley MacQueen
Seriously.
Wish you could get to know these agents a little before deciding whether or not to query them?
Target/Agent doesn't blog, but does she tweet?
Going crazy waiting to hear back from an agent or two? Wish you could see what their day is like, if they ever spend any time looking at submissions, and why in the world haven't they reached out for yours, which you're sure is sitting right in front of their faces? (ahem)
If I had the capacity for internet program design, and if I were a similarly neurotic writer, I'd invent a program that would seduce agents and editors, and famous writers, to jot down a line or two during their days, telling me just what it was they were thinking or doing at the moment. I'd arrange their comments to be sent to my own little window on their world. I'd make sure I could send off a pithy response or two which they actually may read...sometimes.
I'd make it the coolest thing to join. I'd give it a cute name.
Twitter, maybe. What is cuter than taking a moment to tweet?
Okay, so Twitter may just as easily have been created by someone who likes to stalk others...
Sounds like a writer to me.
Of course it’s not as exciting as stalking them in person, at a national conference, for instance. It’s not as classy as linen stationary correspondence. But it’s great for weeding out agents whose attitude rubs you raw, or who lets it slip that something incredibly close to what you’re shopping around is really not his/her cup of tea, even though he/she requested said cup of tea which is currently sitting on his/her desk, getting cold.
On the other hand, you may find an agent’s sense of humor makes you laugh EVERY TIME she tweets. You see that she just may be the one to GET you. You may find that this perfect agent is going to participate in a conference just a state or two away and if you’re quick, you may get a face to face appointment!
Disclaimer: as someone who has tried to limit her time on-line, joining Twitter was the last thing I had planned to do. But I’m happy I did. My neurosis has lessened. I don’t spend time wondering what an agent is doing. I now have a good guess. I know he or she has a lot more on her plate than I used to think. Client reads, edits, edits, edits, submissions to read, then a hundred more tomorrow. When I get a reply back, I feel a bit more blessed.
So, if you have some stalking to do, I’m just sayin’... After all, that’s what the Indians used to do. Hide in the bushes and make bird calls.
Ainsley MacQueen
Thursday, July 23, 2009
MURDERING THE WRONG ME
To be, or not to be...me. That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler to use a pen name is really what I was after. But like Hamlet, I've already wasted far too much of my life pondering this question.
When first considering a pen name, I made a list. This took no small amount of time. I used every marketing-inclined brain cell while considering each alternative and bothered every acquaintance for his or her input (field research).
Ultimately, I landed on something that spoke to me, rang my bells, and seemed a good marketing move. I got business cards, a website, and started this blog. I have been, for the past two years, Ainsley MacQueen.
I don't know if I'm the only writer to do this, but I have actually been jealous of myself, Ainsley MacQueen, on occasion. The thought of Ainsley MacQueen getting credit for the books I write rubbed me wrong. It's like the gal in the mirror walking out of the glass and taking over the most exciting parts of my life.
So I rebelled. I told my RWA chapter friends that I was plotting Ainsley's murder. I began imagining my own name on those book covers, and I imagined my new fans awaiting my every release, but then I stalled. My name is often pronounced wrong, spelled wrong, and not easily remembered. So I was back to square one.
Or was I?
Perhaps I have been trying to eliminate the wrong person from my career picture. Perhaps Ainsley needs to do the murdering!
Besides, I made the pen name decision two years ago. I spent all that time making the best decision I could make, and I went forward. Why try putting the rose back on the bush, when I have a perfectly lovely vase to put it in--a vase that looks a helluva lot better in public than the old bush, you know?
(Dorian Grey has nothing on me.)
Ainsley MacQueen is alive and well and taking over. Vive la portrait!
When first considering a pen name, I made a list. This took no small amount of time. I used every marketing-inclined brain cell while considering each alternative and bothered every acquaintance for his or her input (field research).
Ultimately, I landed on something that spoke to me, rang my bells, and seemed a good marketing move. I got business cards, a website, and started this blog. I have been, for the past two years, Ainsley MacQueen.
I don't know if I'm the only writer to do this, but I have actually been jealous of myself, Ainsley MacQueen, on occasion. The thought of Ainsley MacQueen getting credit for the books I write rubbed me wrong. It's like the gal in the mirror walking out of the glass and taking over the most exciting parts of my life.
So I rebelled. I told my RWA chapter friends that I was plotting Ainsley's murder. I began imagining my own name on those book covers, and I imagined my new fans awaiting my every release, but then I stalled. My name is often pronounced wrong, spelled wrong, and not easily remembered. So I was back to square one.
Or was I?
Perhaps I have been trying to eliminate the wrong person from my career picture. Perhaps Ainsley needs to do the murdering!
Besides, I made the pen name decision two years ago. I spent all that time making the best decision I could make, and I went forward. Why try putting the rose back on the bush, when I have a perfectly lovely vase to put it in--a vase that looks a helluva lot better in public than the old bush, you know?
(Dorian Grey has nothing on me.)
Ainsley MacQueen is alive and well and taking over. Vive la portrait!
Monday, July 20, 2009
Oh, bouyancy!
I was reading a friend's blog http://www.judyswriting.blogspot.com/ today and was inspired.
At the end of the blog, she gives a short list of positive things to be, and I finally have a definition for my personality; I am buoyant.
Before some of you (Lisa Water Closet, et al) fall onto the floor and lose your grip, I am not speaking of the fact that I find it physically impossible to drown!
I refer, rather, to my attitude in general. I wouldn't call myself optimistic. What fun would that be? You can't enjoy sarcasm with those rose-colored glasses on.
But I'm not a total pessimist, either. Although my head goes under every now and then, I tend to bob back. I'm buoyant. It is the more liquid equivalent of bi-polar, perhaps, but I tend to linger longer on the upswing. The size of my...egos... keep me up there, I guess.
(I thought this would be a bit of a bandaid for that last "piss or get off the pot" post.)
The Chronically Buoyant Ainsley
At the end of the blog, she gives a short list of positive things to be, and I finally have a definition for my personality; I am buoyant.
Before some of you (Lisa Water Closet, et al) fall onto the floor and lose your grip, I am not speaking of the fact that I find it physically impossible to drown!
I refer, rather, to my attitude in general. I wouldn't call myself optimistic. What fun would that be? You can't enjoy sarcasm with those rose-colored glasses on.
But I'm not a total pessimist, either. Although my head goes under every now and then, I tend to bob back. I'm buoyant. It is the more liquid equivalent of bi-polar, perhaps, but I tend to linger longer on the upswing. The size of my...egos... keep me up there, I guess.
(I thought this would be a bit of a bandaid for that last "piss or get off the pot" post.)
The Chronically Buoyant Ainsley
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Pucker Up, Buttercup!
Brace yourselves, Effies!
The reports from RWA's National Conference are going to be a mixed bag, and the bags are due home in a couple of days.
What do I foresee in the mix?
I suspect the usual report of writer's and VIP's trying to keep a stiff upper lip in the economy. I expect the true and worthy advice about making sure your product is absolutely perfect if you expect to sell in these choppy industry waters, and I expect some desperate celebrations on the popularity of romance novels in a depressed society.
But I am guessing that the real juice to be wrung out of the RWA National grapevine is going to make us all pucker.
Newbies are a tough sell. Newbies are going to be THE TOUGHEST SELL this year. It doesn't matter what you write, or how good you are, how many awards you win, or the ever-reliable 'who you know'.
If you are a newbie, with no publishing numbers to set of the mousetrap, you're going to be laying in wait for the dumb luck of a mouse/agent stumbling and flying onto your cocked, but empty trap. And if you get lucky enough to have her at your mercy for a few seconds before she sets off again in search of negotiable cheese, you'd better have a big voice and something pithy to say.
So, my advice to you, before you hear it firsthand, is to brace yourself for bad news, determine whether or not you have what it takes to TAKE THE MOUSE BY THE BALLS, or go the other route and find a palatable exit strategy.
It can all be summed up with one of my favorite lines from The Shawshank Redemption, "You gotta get busy livin', or get busy dyin'."
To those of you queuing up for the River Stix Tour, I bid you a fond farewell. To those of you who decide to stand upon the battlements with me, I've got your back.
Ainsley
The reports from RWA's National Conference are going to be a mixed bag, and the bags are due home in a couple of days.
What do I foresee in the mix?
I suspect the usual report of writer's and VIP's trying to keep a stiff upper lip in the economy. I expect the true and worthy advice about making sure your product is absolutely perfect if you expect to sell in these choppy industry waters, and I expect some desperate celebrations on the popularity of romance novels in a depressed society.
But I am guessing that the real juice to be wrung out of the RWA National grapevine is going to make us all pucker.
Newbies are a tough sell. Newbies are going to be THE TOUGHEST SELL this year. It doesn't matter what you write, or how good you are, how many awards you win, or the ever-reliable 'who you know'.
If you are a newbie, with no publishing numbers to set of the mousetrap, you're going to be laying in wait for the dumb luck of a mouse/agent stumbling and flying onto your cocked, but empty trap. And if you get lucky enough to have her at your mercy for a few seconds before she sets off again in search of negotiable cheese, you'd better have a big voice and something pithy to say.
So, my advice to you, before you hear it firsthand, is to brace yourself for bad news, determine whether or not you have what it takes to TAKE THE MOUSE BY THE BALLS, or go the other route and find a palatable exit strategy.
It can all be summed up with one of my favorite lines from The Shawshank Redemption, "You gotta get busy livin', or get busy dyin'."
To those of you queuing up for the River Stix Tour, I bid you a fond farewell. To those of you who decide to stand upon the battlements with me, I've got your back.
Ainsley
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Jumping the Plotting Fence In My Underwear
As self-appointed leader of the opposition-to-plotting party, I hereby resign.
To those whom I leave behind on my break for the other side of the fence, I wish you luck and hope to soon see you on the outside. As I don't usually go around asking people what style of underwear they are hiding, I likewise have no idea which side of the fence any of you are on, but I'm outing myself.
Look if you dare.
(For the moment, I'm out of metaphors for closets, underwear, and whether or not one should plot in the closet or pants on the lawn. Feel free to make up your own and share it, but if you do, we'll all know where you stand and what you're wearing!)
What brought this on? Scene and Sequel, baby.
Someone finally stood up on a table, waved her arms wildly enough to get my attention, then told me that while I can be entertaining at times, in a Picasso-eye-where-your-ear-should-be kind of way, my writing is a tad too unfocused for general consumption.
Enter Mr. Bickham, Scene and Structure concept.
Result? I have a google map of the yellow-brick road, know right where to get a free apple, where the poisonous pansies grow, and the departure schedule for hot-air transportation.
Looking for me? Look up, baby. Look up.
Ainsley
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Mentors, Mentees, and Giant Cojonas
Let's get this out of the way, once and for all.
Asking a Best Selling Author to mentor a new author is absolute bull and here are just a few of the four hundred and three reasons why:
Those superstars who have the inclination to mentor...do. Many of them are so happy to fulfill this need for instruction that they actually write a book endowing their readers with all the wisdom they could organize and get past an editor.
Others take a newer writer aside and offer personal advice--the point is, these authors get to choose whom they aid. Trying to make an author take on the mentoring of anonymous newbies is like asking them to take your teenager for the summer. No one will be comfortable with the situation except for the selfish teenager who will take whatever advantage she can.
For fun, let's compare Stephen King and Nora Roberts. While Mr. King has graciously written a book to entertain and educate other writers, Ms. Roberts spends her day furiously producing novels which...can both entertain and educate other writers!
Leave her alone! Don't ask her to write one less novel this year so she can pass along her knowledge to someone who may or may not be worth five minutes of her time. Tell the newbie to go out and buy Stephens book, or any of a hundred books that will teach them the few things that can be taught, since most of what makes a BSA a BSA are the things they learned by writing--not listening, not reading, not plagairizing.
I am not yet a BSA; I'm not even a P.A.N., yet. I have at least a hundred friends in the business, however, and it ticks me off that some people are able to make the most successful among us feel guilty for not giving up their valuable time to lift a stranger off the ground, a thousand miles away, when a perfectly good set of crutches sits on a bookshelf next to this stranger's butt.
I'm not talking about the homeless, I'm talking about the lazy. The Romance Writers of America has meetings in nearly every state, at least once a month, and those writers can lead new writers to a list of books to read, or help them find a critique group, or a loop to join, where they can find all the advice and instruction ever given on how to improve and get published. The non-BSA's who attend these meetings are happy to share this info. I know. I've been shared with and I can honestly say I wouldn't have come as far as I have without these women.
There is a line in Jurassic Park, delivered by Jeff Goldbloom, that says something to the effect that if you haven't put in your dues learning the science, you have no business picking up where others have left off.
I say, if you haven't come to practice all season, why should you be allowed to play in the game?
Ranting Matilda
Asking a Best Selling Author to mentor a new author is absolute bull and here are just a few of the four hundred and three reasons why:
Those superstars who have the inclination to mentor...do. Many of them are so happy to fulfill this need for instruction that they actually write a book endowing their readers with all the wisdom they could organize and get past an editor.
Others take a newer writer aside and offer personal advice--the point is, these authors get to choose whom they aid. Trying to make an author take on the mentoring of anonymous newbies is like asking them to take your teenager for the summer. No one will be comfortable with the situation except for the selfish teenager who will take whatever advantage she can.
For fun, let's compare Stephen King and Nora Roberts. While Mr. King has graciously written a book to entertain and educate other writers, Ms. Roberts spends her day furiously producing novels which...can both entertain and educate other writers!
Leave her alone! Don't ask her to write one less novel this year so she can pass along her knowledge to someone who may or may not be worth five minutes of her time. Tell the newbie to go out and buy Stephens book, or any of a hundred books that will teach them the few things that can be taught, since most of what makes a BSA a BSA are the things they learned by writing--not listening, not reading, not plagairizing.
I am not yet a BSA; I'm not even a P.A.N., yet. I have at least a hundred friends in the business, however, and it ticks me off that some people are able to make the most successful among us feel guilty for not giving up their valuable time to lift a stranger off the ground, a thousand miles away, when a perfectly good set of crutches sits on a bookshelf next to this stranger's butt.
I'm not talking about the homeless, I'm talking about the lazy. The Romance Writers of America has meetings in nearly every state, at least once a month, and those writers can lead new writers to a list of books to read, or help them find a critique group, or a loop to join, where they can find all the advice and instruction ever given on how to improve and get published. The non-BSA's who attend these meetings are happy to share this info. I know. I've been shared with and I can honestly say I wouldn't have come as far as I have without these women.
There is a line in Jurassic Park, delivered by Jeff Goldbloom, that says something to the effect that if you haven't put in your dues learning the science, you have no business picking up where others have left off.
I say, if you haven't come to practice all season, why should you be allowed to play in the game?
Ranting Matilda
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Writer's Voice and Where to Get Yours
Having a hard time finding your voice?
Open up your current work in progress. That's it. Open it up to any old page, or new page--even a page of which you're rather fond--and read it aloud.
Sound like you?
Not, "does it sound like you wrote it?", but
Does it sound like you? Were those words you use in your everyday conversation? If your book is historical civil war they wouldn't be, but how about the tempo, the cadence? How about the character's thoughts? Even delivered with a drawl, a brogue, or sliding off the tongue in french, did you hear yourself in there?
Do you suppose Janet Evanovich is a sarcastic woman? You bet your bippie. You can't write sarcasm like that and not be soaking in it. I think for JE to NOT write sarcasm would sound...dishonest.
Look at that page again. Not your words? Not your thoughts? Ask yourself who you were trying to impress, then stop trying to impress them if you can't recognize your own voice in what you write.
You want a voice? You have one. You just have to be honest about it.
At the first writers conference I attended, I believe it was the author Lynn Kurland told us we should just worry about writing to an audience of five--not to the masses, just to five people. She said we could even pick the people, or envision them, but we only need to be able to impress five people.
Boy, does that take the pressure off, right? Not writing to a million people you need to convince to buy your next book, not even a thousand, just five. Easy breezy.
But guess what else it does. It puts you into a nice intimate little circle of associates with whom you can finally be completely honest. Think a character is a turd? Let another character call him a turd. Let your characters be honest and call a turd a turd. Think a character is going to hell for his morals? Say it. Be bold. Be judgemental. Be biased. Be snide. Be paranoid. But be honest.
Another place you're supposed to be flat out shameful and shameless is at your friendly neighborhood shrink's office. Right? So put your characters on that couch and let them spill their guts. Let them rant.
And when they are all done ranting, throw those ethics out the window 'cause you're a quack anyway, and share their dirty little secrets with the reader. Let the honesty flow, babe. Shout it from the rooftops; whisper it through a hole in the fence.
Spill, baby, spill. And when you're done, you will hear something familiar...the sound of your own VOICE.
Ainsley
Open up your current work in progress. That's it. Open it up to any old page, or new page--even a page of which you're rather fond--and read it aloud.
Sound like you?
Not, "does it sound like you wrote it?", but
Does it sound like you? Were those words you use in your everyday conversation? If your book is historical civil war they wouldn't be, but how about the tempo, the cadence? How about the character's thoughts? Even delivered with a drawl, a brogue, or sliding off the tongue in french, did you hear yourself in there?
Do you suppose Janet Evanovich is a sarcastic woman? You bet your bippie. You can't write sarcasm like that and not be soaking in it. I think for JE to NOT write sarcasm would sound...dishonest.
Look at that page again. Not your words? Not your thoughts? Ask yourself who you were trying to impress, then stop trying to impress them if you can't recognize your own voice in what you write.
You want a voice? You have one. You just have to be honest about it.
At the first writers conference I attended, I believe it was the author Lynn Kurland told us we should just worry about writing to an audience of five--not to the masses, just to five people. She said we could even pick the people, or envision them, but we only need to be able to impress five people.
Boy, does that take the pressure off, right? Not writing to a million people you need to convince to buy your next book, not even a thousand, just five. Easy breezy.
But guess what else it does. It puts you into a nice intimate little circle of associates with whom you can finally be completely honest. Think a character is a turd? Let another character call him a turd. Let your characters be honest and call a turd a turd. Think a character is going to hell for his morals? Say it. Be bold. Be judgemental. Be biased. Be snide. Be paranoid. But be honest.
Another place you're supposed to be flat out shameful and shameless is at your friendly neighborhood shrink's office. Right? So put your characters on that couch and let them spill their guts. Let them rant.
And when they are all done ranting, throw those ethics out the window 'cause you're a quack anyway, and share their dirty little secrets with the reader. Let the honesty flow, babe. Shout it from the rooftops; whisper it through a hole in the fence.
Spill, baby, spill. And when you're done, you will hear something familiar...the sound of your own VOICE.
Ainsley
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Three Year Threat
I am a snob.
Perhaps some of you knew that already, but this is news to me. Or perhaps my awareness of it comes and goes. If so, it has come again. I am a writer-snob.
Everyone is proud, in a way, of their personal writing process. For example, my all-or-nothing personality dictates my rituals. I must either be completely immersed in my story, or not give it much thought at all. Lately I have realized that the former is becoming more and more rare, and at this rate, I will finish my next book in about...three years.
Aaaaaah!
I have been boycotting writing goals, thinking that would invite more late night manic mudslides of production. My mud, however, has been awfully dry of late. Dirt, really.
So, I've got a small trowel and bucket. Artistic Pride be damned.
Three years. Really!
Ainsley on the rebound
Perhaps some of you knew that already, but this is news to me. Or perhaps my awareness of it comes and goes. If so, it has come again. I am a writer-snob.
Everyone is proud, in a way, of their personal writing process. For example, my all-or-nothing personality dictates my rituals. I must either be completely immersed in my story, or not give it much thought at all. Lately I have realized that the former is becoming more and more rare, and at this rate, I will finish my next book in about...three years.
Aaaaaah!
I have been boycotting writing goals, thinking that would invite more late night manic mudslides of production. My mud, however, has been awfully dry of late. Dirt, really.
So, I've got a small trowel and bucket. Artistic Pride be damned.
Three years. Really!
Ainsley on the rebound
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
"SUBTLETY," I shouted.
Let me just say, since there really is no way you can actually stop me now, that I have once again fallen truly, madly, deeply in love with the written word.
On some digest this morning I was seduced to a blog site written by Caren Johnson, lit agent, where she had invited writers to send her a line or two of quality writing out of their wips or completed mss. I missed out on the window, but I did read the critiques she'd given. I also read the beginning of the blog explaining what she considers to be quality writing.
Quality writing.
Hmm, I said.
Quality writing as opposed to quality punctuation, grammar and formatting? As opposed to high concept in-your-face action?
Hmm, I said again.
Quality writing, I discovered, is actually the beautiful stuff I fell in love with all those years ago when I read "Ethan Frome" and wanted to hitch along on a suicide ride, when I wept next to Heathcliff in that silly box-of-a-bed in the middle of the night. And here's the kicker: As it turns out, I don't have to write like an Austin, Wharton, or Bronte in order to write beautifully. And neither do you.
Quality writing is from the soul. It's inspiring and inspired. It's the difference between telling a story and painting a story, but it's even more than that.
It is taking the time to think about what you're trying to say, allowing yourself to feel it, then finding the perfect words to express it. I can't write quality sentences if I am cranking out a word count for a production goal. I can't write quality while outlining a character's GMC, or plotting the greatest romance of the month.
Quality writing is seeing and feeling what lies beneath the story we're telling. It's the secrets kept between the molecules in the air. It's the stuff we can see only with the night vision goggles on. It's there. The writer is the only one who can see it, and she must tell everyone the monster is right in front of us without letting the monster know that she knows.
It's SUBTLETY; anything so subtle others may not see it, but important enough that no one should miss it. It's the potential in Ethan Frome's shoulders that will never be realized because of his "smash up". It's the futility of the winter sun trying to shine through an arctic wind. It's opposition you never notice, tension deep within the stem of a flower that keeps its head up. It's the chemistry inside the same flower that allows it to turn its head, ever so slowly and indiscernibly, toward the sunshine.
Quality writing points out the secrets all around us, secrets God was not going to tell us if we didn't think to ask, or look for ourselves.
If you want to discover if you have left quality writing behind, do what I did. Race to your latest wip and search for three or four lines of quality writing you could post to Caren Johnson (as if it weren't too late to do so) so that she might comment on it.
Want to feel better? I skimmed through ten pages and couldn't find anything worthy.
Want to fix it? Want to warm up your quality writing muscles? Grab a box of tissue and a copy of Ethan Frome. (I wept before I ever reached page two--the way one weeps over poetry, or perfect Christmas snow. I wept for the hope that I might be the producer of such beauty.)
The great thing about Edith Wharton, by the way, is that she is more easily read than Austin, but writes so beautifully you know you're elbow-deep in a classic, and you finally understand what the term "classic" means.
Ainsley the Subtle
On some digest this morning I was seduced to a blog site written by Caren Johnson, lit agent, where she had invited writers to send her a line or two of quality writing out of their wips or completed mss. I missed out on the window, but I did read the critiques she'd given. I also read the beginning of the blog explaining what she considers to be quality writing.
Quality writing.
Hmm, I said.
Quality writing as opposed to quality punctuation, grammar and formatting? As opposed to high concept in-your-face action?
Hmm, I said again.
Quality writing, I discovered, is actually the beautiful stuff I fell in love with all those years ago when I read "Ethan Frome" and wanted to hitch along on a suicide ride, when I wept next to Heathcliff in that silly box-of-a-bed in the middle of the night. And here's the kicker: As it turns out, I don't have to write like an Austin, Wharton, or Bronte in order to write beautifully. And neither do you.
Quality writing is from the soul. It's inspiring and inspired. It's the difference between telling a story and painting a story, but it's even more than that.
It is taking the time to think about what you're trying to say, allowing yourself to feel it, then finding the perfect words to express it. I can't write quality sentences if I am cranking out a word count for a production goal. I can't write quality while outlining a character's GMC, or plotting the greatest romance of the month.
Quality writing is seeing and feeling what lies beneath the story we're telling. It's the secrets kept between the molecules in the air. It's the stuff we can see only with the night vision goggles on. It's there. The writer is the only one who can see it, and she must tell everyone the monster is right in front of us without letting the monster know that she knows.
It's SUBTLETY; anything so subtle others may not see it, but important enough that no one should miss it. It's the potential in Ethan Frome's shoulders that will never be realized because of his "smash up". It's the futility of the winter sun trying to shine through an arctic wind. It's opposition you never notice, tension deep within the stem of a flower that keeps its head up. It's the chemistry inside the same flower that allows it to turn its head, ever so slowly and indiscernibly, toward the sunshine.
Quality writing points out the secrets all around us, secrets God was not going to tell us if we didn't think to ask, or look for ourselves.
If you want to discover if you have left quality writing behind, do what I did. Race to your latest wip and search for three or four lines of quality writing you could post to Caren Johnson (as if it weren't too late to do so) so that she might comment on it.
Want to feel better? I skimmed through ten pages and couldn't find anything worthy.
Want to fix it? Want to warm up your quality writing muscles? Grab a box of tissue and a copy of Ethan Frome. (I wept before I ever reached page two--the way one weeps over poetry, or perfect Christmas snow. I wept for the hope that I might be the producer of such beauty.)
The great thing about Edith Wharton, by the way, is that she is more easily read than Austin, but writes so beautifully you know you're elbow-deep in a classic, and you finally understand what the term "classic" means.
Ainsley the Subtle
Friday, December 19, 2008
Reflecting Forward
A rare quiet moment to reflect...forward.
2008 is still hovering around us, like Old Father Time circling the drain, waiting for his replacement so he can move on. I wish, however, he would linger just a bit longer that I might catch my breath and share a quiet moment with him before he goes.
2009 is waiting in the velvet curtains for his turn in front of the crowd and my thoughts race, as his might race, to the possibilities whispering in those 365 days sitting on the edges of their seats.
I want to be prepared. I want to know my lines, not play improv. I want to be braced for the music. I don't want to miss a minute.
And so I set a goal, a lofty goal, like a grand floral arrangement in a four-foot- tall fluted vase placed carefully, but nervously on a narrow pedestal. It is time to let go, to see if it will stay put, to see if it holds its place throughout the performance.
My goal is not some tussy-mussy of daisies and baby's breath arranged in a sturdy low bowl and placed in the center of a 60 inch table. It is wild branches with heavy berries that pull at their perch so they might wreak havoc with the white carpet below. It is a delicate blossom worth an untold fortune dangling at an unnatural height screaming "I will not go silent into that good night!"
Take a risk. As you look into your own future, do you imagine being impressed with something safe and staid? Or do you see yourself performing a bit of shock and awe of your own?
Ainsley
2008 is still hovering around us, like Old Father Time circling the drain, waiting for his replacement so he can move on. I wish, however, he would linger just a bit longer that I might catch my breath and share a quiet moment with him before he goes.
2009 is waiting in the velvet curtains for his turn in front of the crowd and my thoughts race, as his might race, to the possibilities whispering in those 365 days sitting on the edges of their seats.
I want to be prepared. I want to know my lines, not play improv. I want to be braced for the music. I don't want to miss a minute.
And so I set a goal, a lofty goal, like a grand floral arrangement in a four-foot- tall fluted vase placed carefully, but nervously on a narrow pedestal. It is time to let go, to see if it will stay put, to see if it holds its place throughout the performance.
My goal is not some tussy-mussy of daisies and baby's breath arranged in a sturdy low bowl and placed in the center of a 60 inch table. It is wild branches with heavy berries that pull at their perch so they might wreak havoc with the white carpet below. It is a delicate blossom worth an untold fortune dangling at an unnatural height screaming "I will not go silent into that good night!"
Take a risk. As you look into your own future, do you imagine being impressed with something safe and staid? Or do you see yourself performing a bit of shock and awe of your own?
Ainsley
Thursday, October 9, 2008
MAKE YOUR DAY TASTE BETTER
How do you think you would feel if you went to Vegas and paid a whole lot of money for a really wonderful buffet, only to hear hours later that you'd missed the second room full of choices? Maybe it was brimming with beautiful desserts, maybe it was steaming with succulent appetizers. Either way, you're going to be ticked that no one pointed it out to you.
Or worse, you may be ticked that someone had told you about it but you either didn't believe them, or didn't really understand what they were saying.
I have been living this buffet. Every day. Life is wonderful, all I could ask for. I never leave the table, or end the day, wanting for much. Until Sunday morning, I didn't really know what I was missing. I actually have seen the other room before, but I forgot it was there.
Let me "s'plain".
Last weekend was kind of a rush for me. Good things happened--no GREAT things happened. Then Sunday morning I woke up with the usual intention of going right back to sleep, but the memory of the day before jumped center-screen in my head and I could not get it off.
Far from my usual routine, I got out of bed without reviewing, or trying to relive, my dreams, and wandered around, not quite knowing what one does when one rises ahead of schedule with nothing planned. I stepped out onto the deck in my robe (since I was still in my conference hotel room) and gulped in what I then remembered was fresh mountain air. I watched the freaking sun rise.
Did you know it doesn't look at all the same first thing in the morning? Probably a bit like people.
I enjoyed the sun, the air, the stillness, the slight touch of moisture on my face, and I wished I could have alerted others to the experience. I wanted to run up to folks in line for the wonderful, but regular, buffet and implore them not to miss the rest, the other room, the other experience that is completely their right to enjoy.
So I'm alerting you. Get up and see what the morning is hiding from you. You may be inspired, as I was, to dance outside in your robe and bare feet.
And it made the rest of the day taste better.
Ainsley
Or worse, you may be ticked that someone had told you about it but you either didn't believe them, or didn't really understand what they were saying.
I have been living this buffet. Every day. Life is wonderful, all I could ask for. I never leave the table, or end the day, wanting for much. Until Sunday morning, I didn't really know what I was missing. I actually have seen the other room before, but I forgot it was there.
Let me "s'plain".
Last weekend was kind of a rush for me. Good things happened--no GREAT things happened. Then Sunday morning I woke up with the usual intention of going right back to sleep, but the memory of the day before jumped center-screen in my head and I could not get it off.
Far from my usual routine, I got out of bed without reviewing, or trying to relive, my dreams, and wandered around, not quite knowing what one does when one rises ahead of schedule with nothing planned. I stepped out onto the deck in my robe (since I was still in my conference hotel room) and gulped in what I then remembered was fresh mountain air. I watched the freaking sun rise.
Did you know it doesn't look at all the same first thing in the morning? Probably a bit like people.
I enjoyed the sun, the air, the stillness, the slight touch of moisture on my face, and I wished I could have alerted others to the experience. I wanted to run up to folks in line for the wonderful, but regular, buffet and implore them not to miss the rest, the other room, the other experience that is completely their right to enjoy.
So I'm alerting you. Get up and see what the morning is hiding from you. You may be inspired, as I was, to dance outside in your robe and bare feet.
And it made the rest of the day taste better.
Ainsley
Monday, August 11, 2008
Don't let your crack show!
You cannot fool editors and agents.
Again: You cannot fool editors and agents.
Of course the odd book gets through the cracks. The odd crack...well, the odd crack is so odd that it is not worth searching for. You don't want to be the one who slipped into the publishing house and unworthily sneaked onto a bookstore shelf, do you?
Of course you don't. You want to write the GAN--the Great American Novel. What is more, you know you CAN write the GAN. So do it...
But don't forget to make it GREAT (or it will only be an AN).
If I boil down all the underlying messages and owl poop gleaned at RWA National Conference this year, it is that all the stalking of eds and ags, all the happy elevator rides and perfect pitches, and all the connections and friends you've made and the self-promoting you've done WILL NOT SELL A MEDIOCRE STORY, OR A POORLY WRITTEN STORY, OR AN AMATEURISH STORY.
Nothing is going to sell your story unless the writing is great. Come up with a great product and the selling part will be easy (well, easier). Produce anything less and the selling of it will be unlikely--VERY unlikely, unless you happen across that crack and slip in. But know this: your crack will show!
As more than one agent said this year, "Stop worrying about self-promoting and start worrying about writing a great story." They can sell a great story. It's what they love to do.
And what do you love to do? You love to write. So write. Do what you love. Don't stop writing in order to be your own agent. Novels do not get written by people who spend their time playing agent.
Spend nearly all your time perfecting this activity you love and then when you've given birth to this beautiful creation, take a snap shot and send it off for the professionals to appreciate and SELL. Then get back to gestating another one. If you were born and bred to breed great stories, don't stop the breeding! (Yes, funny. I know. Now recall the song, "I keep breeding, I keep keep breeding love..." and it's even funnier.)
So gird up your loins. Higher. That's it. You want to be crack-free.
AMQ
Again: You cannot fool editors and agents.
Of course the odd book gets through the cracks. The odd crack...well, the odd crack is so odd that it is not worth searching for. You don't want to be the one who slipped into the publishing house and unworthily sneaked onto a bookstore shelf, do you?
Of course you don't. You want to write the GAN--the Great American Novel. What is more, you know you CAN write the GAN. So do it...
But don't forget to make it GREAT (or it will only be an AN).
If I boil down all the underlying messages and owl poop gleaned at RWA National Conference this year, it is that all the stalking of eds and ags, all the happy elevator rides and perfect pitches, and all the connections and friends you've made and the self-promoting you've done WILL NOT SELL A MEDIOCRE STORY, OR A POORLY WRITTEN STORY, OR AN AMATEURISH STORY.
Nothing is going to sell your story unless the writing is great. Come up with a great product and the selling part will be easy (well, easier). Produce anything less and the selling of it will be unlikely--VERY unlikely, unless you happen across that crack and slip in. But know this: your crack will show!
As more than one agent said this year, "Stop worrying about self-promoting and start worrying about writing a great story." They can sell a great story. It's what they love to do.
And what do you love to do? You love to write. So write. Do what you love. Don't stop writing in order to be your own agent. Novels do not get written by people who spend their time playing agent.
Spend nearly all your time perfecting this activity you love and then when you've given birth to this beautiful creation, take a snap shot and send it off for the professionals to appreciate and SELL. Then get back to gestating another one. If you were born and bred to breed great stories, don't stop the breeding! (Yes, funny. I know. Now recall the song, "I keep breeding, I keep keep breeding love..." and it's even funnier.)
So gird up your loins. Higher. That's it. You want to be crack-free.
AMQ
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Get Crazy, Baby
Upon my wall, among the endless array of scraps of both paper and wisdom, one quote reigns supreme. I have long since lost the author’s name, of course, so please don’t anyone sue me. It reads:
There is no perfect time to write; there is only now.
There is no perfect time to write? Surely if you light the requisite number of candles, put on the perfect music, keep your space uncluttered and pay off the requisite number of children to find a quiet pastime in the opposite end of the house, surely that will leave you with the perfect time to write.
Does that not depend upon which type of writer you are?
Are you a plotter or a pantser? (Not a pantster with two t’s, for wouldn’t that indicate you like to run about taking the pants off others?) A pantser, as most of you already know, is someone who sits in the chair and writes by the seat of his or her pants with very little thought ahead of time as to where the story might lead, from what source of conflict comes, etc., etc.
For those of you who plot, who find it difficult to sit down to write unless it is indeed the perfect time to write and the perfect journey has been laid before you, you may be missing a lively boat.
And for those of you who are pantsers who give yourself grief for not being a plotter, for needing to go back a few times over to restructure, etc., you may not be enjoying the lively boat in which you sit.
If you can take up a pen and paper, look around you and be completely inspired, I believe a panster will find a freedom a plotter cannot. If you can manage to let your muse wild for a bit, with no structure to control it, it will take you along for an incredible ride.
How long has it been since you have ridden?
Imperfect time to write coupled with an imperfect writer could very well produce the latest edge on which to cut a story.
If anyone can do it, we can.
Plotters, come over to the dark side. Pantsers, lighten up. That's it, really.
Ainsley
There is no perfect time to write; there is only now.
There is no perfect time to write? Surely if you light the requisite number of candles, put on the perfect music, keep your space uncluttered and pay off the requisite number of children to find a quiet pastime in the opposite end of the house, surely that will leave you with the perfect time to write.
Does that not depend upon which type of writer you are?
Are you a plotter or a pantser? (Not a pantster with two t’s, for wouldn’t that indicate you like to run about taking the pants off others?) A pantser, as most of you already know, is someone who sits in the chair and writes by the seat of his or her pants with very little thought ahead of time as to where the story might lead, from what source of conflict comes, etc., etc.
For those of you who plot, who find it difficult to sit down to write unless it is indeed the perfect time to write and the perfect journey has been laid before you, you may be missing a lively boat.
And for those of you who are pantsers who give yourself grief for not being a plotter, for needing to go back a few times over to restructure, etc., you may not be enjoying the lively boat in which you sit.
If you can take up a pen and paper, look around you and be completely inspired, I believe a panster will find a freedom a plotter cannot. If you can manage to let your muse wild for a bit, with no structure to control it, it will take you along for an incredible ride.
How long has it been since you have ridden?
Imperfect time to write coupled with an imperfect writer could very well produce the latest edge on which to cut a story.
If anyone can do it, we can.
Plotters, come over to the dark side. Pantsers, lighten up. That's it, really.
Ainsley
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Email Diet
Oh, you're really going to love this.
Think emails can help you lose weight?
Nope. In fact, they probably help you gain it.
But what I am talking about here today is how emails help you lose time.
Email diet, bad.
I remember sitting behind my accountant, watching her trying to get into an IRS site to find the answer to some question. I couldn't believe how much time goes by when you are not the one driving the mouse. In the time it took her to find her answer, I could have made a phone call, been redirected four times and boiled water for mac and cheese.
The email ZONE is just like that. A dead zone. You have no idea how much of our valuable writing--and living--time is eaten away at it. For instance, it's slow at work today. Very slow. I opened my email two and a half hours ago, and apart from the stray phone call and a customer, I've been on email all this time!
KILL ME NOW!
So, I've gotten away from TV for the most part. Now it's going to be email. In fact, I think I will take the internet off my cp and only use it for writing. And when I do go to email, I'm going to keep a timer with me. If I need to put every one of my loops on digest--or even pull out of them--I will.
Nothing but emails from editors and agents can be important enough to suck away my time like that again.
I so swear.
Ainsley
Think emails can help you lose weight?
Nope. In fact, they probably help you gain it.
But what I am talking about here today is how emails help you lose time.
Email diet, bad.
I remember sitting behind my accountant, watching her trying to get into an IRS site to find the answer to some question. I couldn't believe how much time goes by when you are not the one driving the mouse. In the time it took her to find her answer, I could have made a phone call, been redirected four times and boiled water for mac and cheese.
The email ZONE is just like that. A dead zone. You have no idea how much of our valuable writing--and living--time is eaten away at it. For instance, it's slow at work today. Very slow. I opened my email two and a half hours ago, and apart from the stray phone call and a customer, I've been on email all this time!
KILL ME NOW!
So, I've gotten away from TV for the most part. Now it's going to be email. In fact, I think I will take the internet off my cp and only use it for writing. And when I do go to email, I'm going to keep a timer with me. If I need to put every one of my loops on digest--or even pull out of them--I will.
Nothing but emails from editors and agents can be important enough to suck away my time like that again.
I so swear.
Ainsley
Monday, June 9, 2008
Hitman for Critique Partners
Critique partners got you down?
It's time for the "trust yourself" lecture.
So....trust yourself.
Think of how far you've come, how much you know that you didn't know in the beginning. Think of all the time you put in for other people, to help them with their writing. It's time now to think of you. To remember why you started writing in the first place.
You love to tell stories, right? You have a great story to tell, right? So tell it. It's like in the movie, The Rookie, when he remembers that playing baseball is supposed to be fun. And he was getting paid to have fun. He walked into the locker room after coming so close to giving it all up, and said, "You know what we get to do today, Brookes? We get to play baseball!"
So, you know what you get to do today? You get to play "writer". Forget those women who have nothing better to do than to drag you down, or worse yet, think they are helping you by picking you apart. Remember the important part about dissecting a frog is THE FROG DIES.
Take a break from CP's. Just trust yourself. Trust that you know a thing or two. Step back and look at the story you are trying to tell, at the people you want us all to meet, and tell us about them. Put them on the psychologist's couch and let them rant and rave while you type it up.
You have the power to save someone, to change some one's life, to rescue the damsel, to save the hero from himself. And you can do all of it. Don't let them stop you. Buy some chocolate for pity's sake, the expensive kind. Indulge in everything and let your characters indulge themselves. Take an "I'll show them" attitude and show them. Make it great.
Take your favorite scene and reveal a little more than you had. Take a bad scene and look at it. What are you trying to do here? What minor changes can you do to some one's dialogue or actions to make the story clearer? Through whose eyes you are watching this scene happen? Would a different POV make things more exciting?
And then, when you have had your fun, cause remember, it is fun....then you can say, It's done. If you don't like it, you don't like it. I like it and it's time to move on because I have another great story to tell.
Listen, I'm rewriting my first ms for about the seventh time in two years and I can't stand it anymore. So I am going to attack the story with all the energy of a ranting lunatic and shake it up. Every time I've given the reader what they expected, I'm going to turn it around and give them just the opposite. Their heads will be spinning. I have a life to live and stories to publish and this one story only gets seven more weeks of my life and that is it. Seven weeks.
Have some fun with this wip. Like a flower arrangement that just looks horrible, take all the flowers out and do something different. Use the same flowers--the same story--and wrench it around. No one ever complains about too much action, excitement, or surprises, right? So blow them out of the water.
You are a writer. You are a god in that universe inside your head, now act like one. Create. Shock and Awe, baby. Leave them panting. Exhaust them and walk away laughing.
There.
Aisnley
It's time for the "trust yourself" lecture.
So....trust yourself.
Think of how far you've come, how much you know that you didn't know in the beginning. Think of all the time you put in for other people, to help them with their writing. It's time now to think of you. To remember why you started writing in the first place.
You love to tell stories, right? You have a great story to tell, right? So tell it. It's like in the movie, The Rookie, when he remembers that playing baseball is supposed to be fun. And he was getting paid to have fun. He walked into the locker room after coming so close to giving it all up, and said, "You know what we get to do today, Brookes? We get to play baseball!"
So, you know what you get to do today? You get to play "writer". Forget those women who have nothing better to do than to drag you down, or worse yet, think they are helping you by picking you apart. Remember the important part about dissecting a frog is THE FROG DIES.
Take a break from CP's. Just trust yourself. Trust that you know a thing or two. Step back and look at the story you are trying to tell, at the people you want us all to meet, and tell us about them. Put them on the psychologist's couch and let them rant and rave while you type it up.
You have the power to save someone, to change some one's life, to rescue the damsel, to save the hero from himself. And you can do all of it. Don't let them stop you. Buy some chocolate for pity's sake, the expensive kind. Indulge in everything and let your characters indulge themselves. Take an "I'll show them" attitude and show them. Make it great.
Take your favorite scene and reveal a little more than you had. Take a bad scene and look at it. What are you trying to do here? What minor changes can you do to some one's dialogue or actions to make the story clearer? Through whose eyes you are watching this scene happen? Would a different POV make things more exciting?
And then, when you have had your fun, cause remember, it is fun....then you can say, It's done. If you don't like it, you don't like it. I like it and it's time to move on because I have another great story to tell.
Listen, I'm rewriting my first ms for about the seventh time in two years and I can't stand it anymore. So I am going to attack the story with all the energy of a ranting lunatic and shake it up. Every time I've given the reader what they expected, I'm going to turn it around and give them just the opposite. Their heads will be spinning. I have a life to live and stories to publish and this one story only gets seven more weeks of my life and that is it. Seven weeks.
Have some fun with this wip. Like a flower arrangement that just looks horrible, take all the flowers out and do something different. Use the same flowers--the same story--and wrench it around. No one ever complains about too much action, excitement, or surprises, right? So blow them out of the water.
You are a writer. You are a god in that universe inside your head, now act like one. Create. Shock and Awe, baby. Leave them panting. Exhaust them and walk away laughing.
There.
Aisnley
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Getting Up From Down Time
As you may have noticed, I was missing in action for the month of May. Lots of excuses; weddings, funerals, holidays, and flowers for all of them. I am a former florist, by the way, and am trying to remain a retired one. Sadly, in a month like May 2008, it was not possible.
So, I've had some "down" time. Welcomed or not, I took an uncomfortably long break from my emails and my ol' pal, Word. I will not examine too closely how many days I never gave a thought to turning on my cp, let alone remembering the wee blue "W".
But now I am back. Time to get up off my...down time. How do I start?
First, I will not waste my time worrying that had a been a real writer I would not have taken such a long break. Until I am given the luxury of 7 undisturbed hours per day, like Hemmingway, I will not brow beat myself for non-production.
Second, I will not make the mistake of waiting for my Muse to revisit. It never answers its mail (or email), never calls just to check on me, to see if I'm ready for company. When I'm published my Muse will not be signing those books, taking credit. It will be all about me, baby, and so must the work be all about me.
So, it's time to start. Luckily for me, I followed Stephen King's advice: I didn't walk away from the computer before knowing what work I would do when I returned to it. I know what my first task is. I know the time allotted for it. I will send off some funny emails to my friends to warm up my writer's vocal chords and begin with the page I have scribbled on a three by five card next the monitor. How "plottish" of me.
What a crock.
Of course that is what I planned to do, but I have to sneak up on my writing so I don't have to "set the mood". It's like a pit bull; I'll avoid eye contact and go about my paper shuffling as if there was never a lull, using all my acting ability to keep the smell of fear from the room.
Next, I will strain my brain for a romantic image that will set my brush to canvas. And I will be ever so grateful when something lands on the paper and smiles. Stephen King, eat your heart out.
Remember, all the planning and good intentions are worthless if you can't walk (or crawl) to the chair, unrepentantly push the clutter from the seat and replace it with your backside.
Here's to pushing the crock off the counter and getting down to business. (Makes you wonder if my office is a complete disaster, doesn't it?) Go ahead, wonder.
Ainsley
So, I've had some "down" time. Welcomed or not, I took an uncomfortably long break from my emails and my ol' pal, Word. I will not examine too closely how many days I never gave a thought to turning on my cp, let alone remembering the wee blue "W".
But now I am back. Time to get up off my...down time. How do I start?
First, I will not waste my time worrying that had a been a real writer I would not have taken such a long break. Until I am given the luxury of 7 undisturbed hours per day, like Hemmingway, I will not brow beat myself for non-production.
Second, I will not make the mistake of waiting for my Muse to revisit. It never answers its mail (or email), never calls just to check on me, to see if I'm ready for company. When I'm published my Muse will not be signing those books, taking credit. It will be all about me, baby, and so must the work be all about me.
So, it's time to start. Luckily for me, I followed Stephen King's advice: I didn't walk away from the computer before knowing what work I would do when I returned to it. I know what my first task is. I know the time allotted for it. I will send off some funny emails to my friends to warm up my writer's vocal chords and begin with the page I have scribbled on a three by five card next the monitor. How "plottish" of me.
What a crock.
Of course that is what I planned to do, but I have to sneak up on my writing so I don't have to "set the mood". It's like a pit bull; I'll avoid eye contact and go about my paper shuffling as if there was never a lull, using all my acting ability to keep the smell of fear from the room.
Next, I will strain my brain for a romantic image that will set my brush to canvas. And I will be ever so grateful when something lands on the paper and smiles. Stephen King, eat your heart out.
Remember, all the planning and good intentions are worthless if you can't walk (or crawl) to the chair, unrepentantly push the clutter from the seat and replace it with your backside.
Here's to pushing the crock off the counter and getting down to business. (Makes you wonder if my office is a complete disaster, doesn't it?) Go ahead, wonder.
Ainsley
Friday, April 18, 2008
Bigfoot and The Writer's Voice
That's right, people. I have found my elusive Writer's Voice. This calls for a toast!
In our early years of writing we are encouraged to watch for it--like Bigfoot. We are told it's out there somewhere. Others have their own proof, and urge us to hunt for ours. They even give us suggestions for bait, the places most likely to find it, where you definitely won't find it. Some even have theories on the best procedures for its care and feeding.
But in the back of our minds we acknowledge it may never exist, or if it does, we likely will never be able to identify it. We pretend to believe. We forge ahead, hoping it will fall in along side us as we go, but we doubt.
Hold on to your marshmallows, campers. I'm here to tell you Bigfoot has been sighted again. I will share with your my proof and you will be believers.
The question of "genre" choice has been bubbling to the top of conversations and loops of late. In fact, on the novelsisterhood loop we were asked what we read and what we write. Harmless question.
Not.
What would you think if your answers to these two questions were not the same? In my case I saw a breakthrough. My next step has been to experiment in another genre and I have blown my own socks off. Within the first 2000 words I realized I was hearing my true voice giving those words back to me. And although I love that other genre like a friend, I have come home.
I will add my own advice to to the voices of those who have also had a close encounter of the third kind. I suggest you experiment with another genre and consider that possibly your first love was not meant to be your true love.
I will continue down this path for a while to see where it leads. Will I visit my friend's home? All the time, I'm sure.
Check the footprints. Are you stalking the wrong animal? Maybe you should look closer at your own tracks. They may lead you to your very own Sasquatch.
Happy hunting!
Ainsley MacQueen, crack shot extraordinaire
In our early years of writing we are encouraged to watch for it--like Bigfoot. We are told it's out there somewhere. Others have their own proof, and urge us to hunt for ours. They even give us suggestions for bait, the places most likely to find it, where you definitely won't find it. Some even have theories on the best procedures for its care and feeding.
But in the back of our minds we acknowledge it may never exist, or if it does, we likely will never be able to identify it. We pretend to believe. We forge ahead, hoping it will fall in along side us as we go, but we doubt.
Hold on to your marshmallows, campers. I'm here to tell you Bigfoot has been sighted again. I will share with your my proof and you will be believers.
The question of "genre" choice has been bubbling to the top of conversations and loops of late. In fact, on the novelsisterhood loop we were asked what we read and what we write. Harmless question.
Not.
What would you think if your answers to these two questions were not the same? In my case I saw a breakthrough. My next step has been to experiment in another genre and I have blown my own socks off. Within the first 2000 words I realized I was hearing my true voice giving those words back to me. And although I love that other genre like a friend, I have come home.
I will add my own advice to to the voices of those who have also had a close encounter of the third kind. I suggest you experiment with another genre and consider that possibly your first love was not meant to be your true love.
I will continue down this path for a while to see where it leads. Will I visit my friend's home? All the time, I'm sure.
Check the footprints. Are you stalking the wrong animal? Maybe you should look closer at your own tracks. They may lead you to your very own Sasquatch.
Happy hunting!
Ainsley MacQueen, crack shot extraordinaire
Monday, April 7, 2008
Couch Carrot Time
It's kinda like a couch potato, but you lie down...
My father is getting married. Remarried. Lost mother 31/2 years ago. You know it hasn't been long when people still use the 1/2.
Well, I'm fine with it. Really. He's been dating this woman for 3 years--without the half. We really like her. She's already part of the family.
Boring, huh? You're right, it is. However...
What a great opportunity to write some emotion. I need to sop it up and wring it out into a notebook to be used for some character down the line who won't be "fine" with a step parent at all. It doesn't matter what she's like. It's what she COULD be like is the stuff classics are made of. After all, the original Cinderella story was probably inspired by a day like this; "Found out today that Daddy is going to remarry. There is a chance she is nice..."
So split up. You on one side and You on another. One is the patient, one is the doctor. Patient on the couch. Now You say, "Tell me how you really feel."
Take great notes!
Doctor MacQueen
My father is getting married. Remarried. Lost mother 31/2 years ago. You know it hasn't been long when people still use the 1/2.
Well, I'm fine with it. Really. He's been dating this woman for 3 years--without the half. We really like her. She's already part of the family.
Boring, huh? You're right, it is. However...
What a great opportunity to write some emotion. I need to sop it up and wring it out into a notebook to be used for some character down the line who won't be "fine" with a step parent at all. It doesn't matter what she's like. It's what she COULD be like is the stuff classics are made of. After all, the original Cinderella story was probably inspired by a day like this; "Found out today that Daddy is going to remarry. There is a chance she is nice..."
So split up. You on one side and You on another. One is the patient, one is the doctor. Patient on the couch. Now You say, "Tell me how you really feel."
Take great notes!
Doctor MacQueen
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Writers on Parade
In these days when friends are finaling in the Big Dance of Romance--The Golden Heart and Rita contests--it is easy to get discouraged if you are not among them. While it is wonderful to feel their excitement, to know they deserve their success, and to hope they win the prize, it is easy to take a step back and believe you are not ready for center stage.
But don't you dare.
Everyone who has ever been published has been in your waiting-room shoes. You just need to be clear about what it is you are waiting for.
Are you waiting for a contest result, an editor's reply to a query, and/or an agent's response? Why the bleep not?
Are you in this parade or are you content to sit on your plastic lounge chair and absorb someone else's excitement? Are you waiting for the Parade Marshall to recognize your talent from afar and come beg you to climb up beside him on the convertible?
Come on. Take off the shades man. No one is watching you. They are watching the parade.
So, if you need motivation, sign up to enter a float. If you're not ready, send off a query to add a bit of pressure. Embarrass the bleep out of yourself and ask some writer friends to read your story. If you have read it too much to see the flaws, ask someone else to look for them.
What everyone else is doing, where they are in their careers, does not matter to yours. I'll tell you a little secret: If you are watching the parade you are not in it. If you are in it, you're not watching it.
So, what do you see? Right now, what are you thinking about? Your writing or theirs?
Still content to sit at the side and watch the writers on parade? That's alright. I am going to need some folks to wave to.
Ainsley, who is ordering crepe paper online instead of leaving the computer to go shopping. I'll be on the LOUD float.
But don't you dare.
Everyone who has ever been published has been in your waiting-room shoes. You just need to be clear about what it is you are waiting for.
Are you waiting for a contest result, an editor's reply to a query, and/or an agent's response? Why the bleep not?
Are you in this parade or are you content to sit on your plastic lounge chair and absorb someone else's excitement? Are you waiting for the Parade Marshall to recognize your talent from afar and come beg you to climb up beside him on the convertible?
Come on. Take off the shades man. No one is watching you. They are watching the parade.
So, if you need motivation, sign up to enter a float. If you're not ready, send off a query to add a bit of pressure. Embarrass the bleep out of yourself and ask some writer friends to read your story. If you have read it too much to see the flaws, ask someone else to look for them.
What everyone else is doing, where they are in their careers, does not matter to yours. I'll tell you a little secret: If you are watching the parade you are not in it. If you are in it, you're not watching it.
So, what do you see? Right now, what are you thinking about? Your writing or theirs?
Still content to sit at the side and watch the writers on parade? That's alright. I am going to need some folks to wave to.
Ainsley, who is ordering crepe paper online instead of leaving the computer to go shopping. I'll be on the LOUD float.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Horseshoes and Cigars
Nothing beats reaching a goal. Nothing.
I have personally been hiding one goal in my back pocket--yes, yes, a tight squeeze, I know--and that has been to get a query sent off to a particular agent. This past weekend I got it done.
However, this goal was not on my list of things to do. It must have been tired of the lack of air and crawled out of the aforementioned pocket before making its way up onto my desk and staring me down.
No, my goal this weekend was to email a contest entry for which I had already mailed the entry fee. (That's the best way to make sure you enter; pay first. Talk about a deadline. Nothing speaks to me like a possibly wasted buck 'er two.)
Long story short, I turned this great way of self-deadlining into motivation to reach my big goal:
Even though my proposal wasn't perfect enough, it was close. Therefore, while I waited for an answer to a query, I could make it perfect. Automatic motivation.
My full ms isn't good enough, but while I wait for a reply on my proposal, I can make it good enough. Automatic motivation.
So, I will no longer put off those queries until I have my full ms polished. Doing that only gives me an excuse to wait for someday.
"Close, but no cigar"? Bull! This is horseshoes. CLOSE COUNTS.
(If you enjoy this blog, pass it on to a writer near you.)
Ainsley, in motivation mode, baby!
I have personally been hiding one goal in my back pocket--yes, yes, a tight squeeze, I know--and that has been to get a query sent off to a particular agent. This past weekend I got it done.
However, this goal was not on my list of things to do. It must have been tired of the lack of air and crawled out of the aforementioned pocket before making its way up onto my desk and staring me down.
No, my goal this weekend was to email a contest entry for which I had already mailed the entry fee. (That's the best way to make sure you enter; pay first. Talk about a deadline. Nothing speaks to me like a possibly wasted buck 'er two.)
Long story short, I turned this great way of self-deadlining into motivation to reach my big goal:
Even though my proposal wasn't perfect enough, it was close. Therefore, while I waited for an answer to a query, I could make it perfect. Automatic motivation.
My full ms isn't good enough, but while I wait for a reply on my proposal, I can make it good enough. Automatic motivation.
So, I will no longer put off those queries until I have my full ms polished. Doing that only gives me an excuse to wait for someday.
"Close, but no cigar"? Bull! This is horseshoes. CLOSE COUNTS.
(If you enjoy this blog, pass it on to a writer near you.)
Ainsley, in motivation mode, baby!
Friday, March 14, 2008
Pass the Gas?
For those of you who are old enough to have memorized M*A*S*H*, let me remind you of the episode when a young injured soldier continuously tries to take his own life. Exasperated, Col. Potter pretends to give up fighting with him and offers his aid instead, cranking up the tank and forcing the gas mask back in the man's face. The young man is so surprised he starts fighting back and after a few intense moments, Potter says something to the effect of, "There, you see? You don't really want to die after all. Now keep fighting to live."
I told you that to tell you this:
The other day I had the opportunity to play the role of Col. Potter. I have a friend--we'll call her Cathie--who was a bit fed up with some ticky-tacky technicalities and casually mentioned she might just throw in the towel. After gasping at the thought, I sent a reply pointing out just how easy it would be to leave the dream behind and move on to another. I told her she had my support either way.
Then I waited.
And while I waited, I thought, "There is no way I will ever give this up. I will never even type such a blasphemy."
But then what did I DO?
Next to nothing.
THAT is the problem. Doing nothing IS giving up!
Let me say that again.
Doing nothing IS giving up. Not writing anything today is giving up. Well, I won't do it, I tell you.
My anonymous friend, Cathie, said she won't be giving up either.
So, my goal--and I encourage those of you who occupy this same boat to join me---is for this coming week to do less giving up. Much less nothing and much more something, and in our world, that means writing.
So don't pass me the gas, thank you. I've had my wake up call and I'm fighting back.
Ainsley MacQueen, a writer today.
I told you that to tell you this:
The other day I had the opportunity to play the role of Col. Potter. I have a friend--we'll call her Cathie--who was a bit fed up with some ticky-tacky technicalities and casually mentioned she might just throw in the towel. After gasping at the thought, I sent a reply pointing out just how easy it would be to leave the dream behind and move on to another. I told her she had my support either way.
Then I waited.
And while I waited, I thought, "There is no way I will ever give this up. I will never even type such a blasphemy."
But then what did I DO?
Next to nothing.
THAT is the problem. Doing nothing IS giving up!
Let me say that again.
Doing nothing IS giving up. Not writing anything today is giving up. Well, I won't do it, I tell you.
My anonymous friend, Cathie, said she won't be giving up either.
So, my goal--and I encourage those of you who occupy this same boat to join me---is for this coming week to do less giving up. Much less nothing and much more something, and in our world, that means writing.
So don't pass me the gas, thank you. I've had my wake up call and I'm fighting back.
Ainsley MacQueen, a writer today.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Gray Matters and Water Balloons
I was recently whining to my friend and fellow writer--let's call her Kim Finnegan--about what an event packed year this is going to be for me.
The problem, I told her, is that in the middle of all this drama, I am having inspiration dropped on my head like a bunch of water balloons from a balcony above. How unfair for it to happen now, when pens and time run from me.
Her insight has put Eyore back in his place but good.
She said "The more you use your brain, the more it will work for you." Wow. Anyone else think about the movie "Phenomenon"? I got visions of my brain firing and parts near the hot spots warming up as well.
My conclusions? I will not begrudge how busy I am when that schedule is accompanied by water balloons. I will lift my face to the little buggers on the balcony and enjoy the bath.
( I will also buy a tape recorder today.)
I will pass on Kim's eloquent warning, too.
"Don’t over do and burn out. When you get your breaks…rest. It ‘s not just the notes, but the space between the notes that makes the symphony beautiful."
Ain't she a poet?
Thanks Kim
Ainsley
The problem, I told her, is that in the middle of all this drama, I am having inspiration dropped on my head like a bunch of water balloons from a balcony above. How unfair for it to happen now, when pens and time run from me.
Her insight has put Eyore back in his place but good.
She said "The more you use your brain, the more it will work for you." Wow. Anyone else think about the movie "Phenomenon"? I got visions of my brain firing and parts near the hot spots warming up as well.
My conclusions? I will not begrudge how busy I am when that schedule is accompanied by water balloons. I will lift my face to the little buggers on the balcony and enjoy the bath.
( I will also buy a tape recorder today.)
I will pass on Kim's eloquent warning, too.
"Don’t over do and burn out. When you get your breaks…rest. It ‘s not just the notes, but the space between the notes that makes the symphony beautiful."
Ain't she a poet?
Thanks Kim
Ainsley
Monday, February 4, 2008
Reach out and GOOSE someone
Reach out and goose someone? Am I kidding?
As someone who has just been "goosed" in a sense, I say goosing is a service to your fellow man.
Surely she doesn't mean "goosing" the way I think she means "goosing". Ooooh, but she does. Alright, kind of.
When is the last time you felt wide awake with shock? Apart from a shower suddenly turning cold? I thought so.
Here's how I accidentally goosed myself...
Went to Vegas to a furniture show last week. Too busy to write, of course. Too busy to breathe, actually. But on the last night my boss, Kara, and I were determined to have a good time, so we walked the strip. Yes, we saw the water at the Bellagio, etc. But just before we gave it all up I got an idea. Kara wanted to see the roller coaster at the New York, NY casino. Just to see it, mind you. So we went up to the landing and I insisted that we get on, citing "we are women, not mice". She was so surprised I would do it, she went along.
Little did she know I anticipated not fitting into the seat, planned to act disappointed before insisting she go on without me. Yes, I'm that devious.
She was amazed at my calm. I was amazed at my calm. I even managed to distract her while we waited for our turn.
I climbed in first, intending to pop right back up and out, only to find that I DID fit in the seat. The handles COULD lock over me, and the shoulder bumpers FIT ME LIKE A FREAKING GLOVE! Before I could share my little joke with others the car started moving.
I started screaming.
Before it even started the climb up that murderous hill, I was screaming my head off. At half way I was telling Kara what I wanted her to tell my family. The rest of the ride was a blur of curses. I averaged about 30 "sh..ts" per minute. Surprising how uncreative I was.
So, with my heart racing, intent on attacking me as soon as it caught up, I flew through the neon-blurred air. I screamed like a banshee over a battlefield. In the end I was surprised to discover not only had I not peed my pants, I had been caught on camera not peeing my pants. What looks like a smile is actually the shutter catching me mid "sh...t".
It has been a long time since I felt so alive. Alive and ready to write. If only I can get that kind of life into my characters.
So, I will take them to the brink of death (or what they believe to be the brink) and snatch them back. A psychological "goose", if you will. And what's good for the character is good for the writer. Push yourselves to the brink this week. Take a close up view of life in any way you can. Then get it on paper.
And if all efforts fail, goose someone else.
Ainsley
As someone who has just been "goosed" in a sense, I say goosing is a service to your fellow man.
Surely she doesn't mean "goosing" the way I think she means "goosing". Ooooh, but she does. Alright, kind of.
When is the last time you felt wide awake with shock? Apart from a shower suddenly turning cold? I thought so.
Here's how I accidentally goosed myself...
Went to Vegas to a furniture show last week. Too busy to write, of course. Too busy to breathe, actually. But on the last night my boss, Kara, and I were determined to have a good time, so we walked the strip. Yes, we saw the water at the Bellagio, etc. But just before we gave it all up I got an idea. Kara wanted to see the roller coaster at the New York, NY casino. Just to see it, mind you. So we went up to the landing and I insisted that we get on, citing "we are women, not mice". She was so surprised I would do it, she went along.
Little did she know I anticipated not fitting into the seat, planned to act disappointed before insisting she go on without me. Yes, I'm that devious.
She was amazed at my calm. I was amazed at my calm. I even managed to distract her while we waited for our turn.
I climbed in first, intending to pop right back up and out, only to find that I DID fit in the seat. The handles COULD lock over me, and the shoulder bumpers FIT ME LIKE A FREAKING GLOVE! Before I could share my little joke with others the car started moving.
I started screaming.
Before it even started the climb up that murderous hill, I was screaming my head off. At half way I was telling Kara what I wanted her to tell my family. The rest of the ride was a blur of curses. I averaged about 30 "sh..ts" per minute. Surprising how uncreative I was.
So, with my heart racing, intent on attacking me as soon as it caught up, I flew through the neon-blurred air. I screamed like a banshee over a battlefield. In the end I was surprised to discover not only had I not peed my pants, I had been caught on camera not peeing my pants. What looks like a smile is actually the shutter catching me mid "sh...t".
It has been a long time since I felt so alive. Alive and ready to write. If only I can get that kind of life into my characters.
So, I will take them to the brink of death (or what they believe to be the brink) and snatch them back. A psychological "goose", if you will. And what's good for the character is good for the writer. Push yourselves to the brink this week. Take a close up view of life in any way you can. Then get it on paper.
And if all efforts fail, goose someone else.
Ainsley
Cook, damn you.
Wow, what inspiration, huh? I did not even write a POST for January. That fact alone has inspired me to write this...
If writing represented God, and not writing represented Satan, I would have to admit that Satan had me by the tail all through January. He lured me from my writing with the siren's song of a good paying job which I love. How horrible. Everyone should be so unlucky, right? Of course, but at what cost?
I happen to write historicals, a market which is enjoying a burst in interest this year. If I put off my writing for another year, or even 6 months, what window have I slammed shut on my career? And even if I wrote in a less popular genre? When its turn comes up would I be ready with product? No.
So this seems to be quite a year of choices for me. Do I sacrifice my dream of writing to have a dream job? Do I weigh the hard won dollars of publication against the sure paycheck of an executive for a large company? Should money matter?
Don't be stupid. Of course money matters. If it didn't, would this "Satan" have been able to keep me from writing for a month? No.
So, happiness and fulfillment? Or happiness, money, and a lesser degree of fulfillment? And can I have it all?
I'd have to turn off the job at 5:00 instead of obsessing about what the new showroom will look like, or what the wonderful bottom line will be, what my paychecks will be. I'd have to remember I'm a writer every single day, to pick that creative voice out of the crowd of creative voices demanding a brilliant business move. I'd have to put one joy aside for another. Easy? I think not. Ever tried it?
Damn that Scotsman and his money. I choose to write. I won't turn away from my job, but I will mute that obsession in my head while turning up the burner under the other.
Cook, damn you. You have but stolen time. Cook.
A repentant Ainsley
If writing represented God, and not writing represented Satan, I would have to admit that Satan had me by the tail all through January. He lured me from my writing with the siren's song of a good paying job which I love. How horrible. Everyone should be so unlucky, right? Of course, but at what cost?
I happen to write historicals, a market which is enjoying a burst in interest this year. If I put off my writing for another year, or even 6 months, what window have I slammed shut on my career? And even if I wrote in a less popular genre? When its turn comes up would I be ready with product? No.
So this seems to be quite a year of choices for me. Do I sacrifice my dream of writing to have a dream job? Do I weigh the hard won dollars of publication against the sure paycheck of an executive for a large company? Should money matter?
Don't be stupid. Of course money matters. If it didn't, would this "Satan" have been able to keep me from writing for a month? No.
So, happiness and fulfillment? Or happiness, money, and a lesser degree of fulfillment? And can I have it all?
I'd have to turn off the job at 5:00 instead of obsessing about what the new showroom will look like, or what the wonderful bottom line will be, what my paychecks will be. I'd have to remember I'm a writer every single day, to pick that creative voice out of the crowd of creative voices demanding a brilliant business move. I'd have to put one joy aside for another. Easy? I think not. Ever tried it?
Damn that Scotsman and his money. I choose to write. I won't turn away from my job, but I will mute that obsession in my head while turning up the burner under the other.
Cook, damn you. You have but stolen time. Cook.
A repentant Ainsley
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Make It a Good Kiss
For those of you who did not reach a goal or two in 2007, I beg you not to consider the year to have been spent in vain. Consider the particulars you have learned this year and how they have affected your writing. If you are like me, the difference in your writing from last January to this is the difference between liking roses and growing them.
I am now quite the gardener:
1. I have only this year learned the definition of head-hopping, and deepening points of view.
2. I have learned how to work intensely with a critique partner.
3. I have had the "flash drive" breakthrough which has moved me a decade closer to understanding the technology at my disposal.
4. I have learned why you never send a second draft to an agent, no matter how anxious she is to see it. Especially before going through it with the aforementioned critique partner.
So on my trip to the New York Big House, I have put another state behind me. You can't just get there from Utah without covering some distance, you know. Unless some fairy godmother gets you there by cheating. (I do know some cheaters, by the way.)
So kiss 2007 goodbye, but make it a good kiss. It was well worth your time.
Ainsley
I am now quite the gardener:
1. I have only this year learned the definition of head-hopping, and deepening points of view.
2. I have learned how to work intensely with a critique partner.
3. I have had the "flash drive" breakthrough which has moved me a decade closer to understanding the technology at my disposal.
4. I have learned why you never send a second draft to an agent, no matter how anxious she is to see it. Especially before going through it with the aforementioned critique partner.
So on my trip to the New York Big House, I have put another state behind me. You can't just get there from Utah without covering some distance, you know. Unless some fairy godmother gets you there by cheating. (I do know some cheaters, by the way.)
So kiss 2007 goodbye, but make it a good kiss. It was well worth your time.
Ainsley
Friday, December 21, 2007
A Writer or A Mouse
Something I heard at a writer's conference a few months ago has belatedly set off an alarm in my head...
A New York agent was speaking on realistic expectations. In fact, she encouraged giving yourself a realistic goal of getting one or two novels done in a year--because, after all, "real life does step in."
Have you ever been dancing--you know, real dancing--when someone has cut in? It only happened to me once, but it was planned. I was dancing at my wedding with my grandfather and my groom cut in. My grandfather reluctantly handed me off and the two of us shuffled around the floor until the song ended. That was the last time I danced with my grandfather, and in spite of the great video footage, I often wish my husband had not stepped in.
So today it hit me. No matter what the timing, the planning, the seeming importance, we should resist a lot harder when life wants to step in. We should look people in the eye and say, "Sorry, this dance is taken."
If only this could fit on a tee shirt:
"I am unable to resist mothering my children because I love them and they are a part of who I am. And for those of you who have forgotten that I am a writer, I am unable to set aside my writing at this moment for the same simple reasons."
Come on! I'm not saying "forget the real world". I'm saying "If real life wants to dance, it'll have to wait for the next song."
Life is short, and personally, I have far too many stories to tell to sit back and only write when the phone is not ringing. It's time I said, "Take a message."
Repeat after me, "I am a writer, not a mouse."
Ainsley
A New York agent was speaking on realistic expectations. In fact, she encouraged giving yourself a realistic goal of getting one or two novels done in a year--because, after all, "real life does step in."
Have you ever been dancing--you know, real dancing--when someone has cut in? It only happened to me once, but it was planned. I was dancing at my wedding with my grandfather and my groom cut in. My grandfather reluctantly handed me off and the two of us shuffled around the floor until the song ended. That was the last time I danced with my grandfather, and in spite of the great video footage, I often wish my husband had not stepped in.
So today it hit me. No matter what the timing, the planning, the seeming importance, we should resist a lot harder when life wants to step in. We should look people in the eye and say, "Sorry, this dance is taken."
If only this could fit on a tee shirt:
"I am unable to resist mothering my children because I love them and they are a part of who I am. And for those of you who have forgotten that I am a writer, I am unable to set aside my writing at this moment for the same simple reasons."
Come on! I'm not saying "forget the real world". I'm saying "If real life wants to dance, it'll have to wait for the next song."
Life is short, and personally, I have far too many stories to tell to sit back and only write when the phone is not ringing. It's time I said, "Take a message."
Repeat after me, "I am a writer, not a mouse."
Ainsley
Sunday, December 16, 2007
I am a writer today
Today is the anniversary of the day I first began writing Romance. I had just finished reading what I believed was the last available book written by Julie Garwood. In only a few months' time I had become addicted to Scottish Historicals and when I foolishly believed that supply had run dry, I concluded I would have to begin cooking from scratch.
I sat down with a few empty notebooks and three weeks later I naively wrote the words "The End." I had around 60,000 words after it was typed up, and had no idea what to do next. Thanks to a little inspired googling, I found the local RWA chapter, went to one meeting, then signed up for the conference the following month. I have been the happiest in my life since then.
The other day, the program went down at work and suddenly I had nothing to do but write. In about three hours I had produced 2000 words and that old rush came back. I remembered how much I relished diving into another world, blocking out the everyday mundane, and creating something gut wrenching and beautiful.
I want more. I can't wait for New Years for resolution. There is a hungry reader out there waiting for a satisfaction I can supply. What a shame if I gave it all up.
Gave it up? Are you kidding?
I am a writer today, tomorrow, and everyday I get out of bed. And since there will be very few days in my life when I would be allowed to stay under the covers, I will be a writer always. Because let's face it, if we were lying there in bed for hours and hours, we're bound to have some fantastic scene unfold in our heads and we'd find some way to jot down the "gist" so we didn't forget.
EMBRACE THE ADDICTION! Let's both be writers today.
Ainsley
I sat down with a few empty notebooks and three weeks later I naively wrote the words "The End." I had around 60,000 words after it was typed up, and had no idea what to do next. Thanks to a little inspired googling, I found the local RWA chapter, went to one meeting, then signed up for the conference the following month. I have been the happiest in my life since then.
The other day, the program went down at work and suddenly I had nothing to do but write. In about three hours I had produced 2000 words and that old rush came back. I remembered how much I relished diving into another world, blocking out the everyday mundane, and creating something gut wrenching and beautiful.
I want more. I can't wait for New Years for resolution. There is a hungry reader out there waiting for a satisfaction I can supply. What a shame if I gave it all up.
Gave it up? Are you kidding?
I am a writer today, tomorrow, and everyday I get out of bed. And since there will be very few days in my life when I would be allowed to stay under the covers, I will be a writer always. Because let's face it, if we were lying there in bed for hours and hours, we're bound to have some fantastic scene unfold in our heads and we'd find some way to jot down the "gist" so we didn't forget.
EMBRACE THE ADDICTION! Let's both be writers today.
Ainsley
Sunday, December 2, 2007
A Picturesque Cannonball
What I love is a huge chunk of time dipped in chocolate and presented on a miniature pedestal plate. Guilt free and unrepentant, I like to completely lose track of time, space, and my own existence.
But how many pages can I generate on those five rare days per year?
Not much!
So, like other writers before me, I must take a swimming lesson. (Yes, before we took a walk...I get it. Just stay with me.)
You know you love to swim. You do. It may have been quite some time since you allowed the world to view you in a bathing suit, or even a wet tee shirt over a bathing suit--for those of you who know me, try to avoid the mental picture. In any case, we all love to swim, it is like flying, only in water instead of air. Who could possibly dislike that?
Well, it's not the swimming we dislike, or even the public picture we supply, but the PLUNGE.
We know it's going to be a shock and we avoid it, even though we know our bodies will adjust and the water will soon feel warm.
I liken this reluctance to using short moments to write. Oh, sure, we can all jump online and write a few emails--or blogs--and feel that blood pumping into our fingers, reintroducing them to the placement of the letters on the keyboard. We can even get a modest rush from a quip sent out into the universe, but that is not writing, working.
Were you a writer today? Writers write, right? So did you? Have you? Something that counts? Something with a WORD count? No?
Well, at least you admit it. The first of a 12 step program, and all that.
"Hello, I am Ainsley MacQueen, and I haven't written a bloody word today. In fact, forgive me, Writer, for I have sinned. I cannot call myself a writer today"....but the day's not over yet.
I am going to take the plunge. I have a mere 30 minutes before my husband will stomp in here and demand that I come to bed, so I am going to cannonball. No time to acclimate my silly toes, no chocolate, no ambiance. No going back a few pages to build up my speed. Damn the cold. It won't last long. One quick lap around the pool. Opening the file now....splash!
Come on in, the water's fine. But hurry, the pool closes soon, and you will wish you had!
Soon-to-be-dripping-so-don't-look Ainsley
But how many pages can I generate on those five rare days per year?
Not much!
So, like other writers before me, I must take a swimming lesson. (Yes, before we took a walk...I get it. Just stay with me.)
You know you love to swim. You do. It may have been quite some time since you allowed the world to view you in a bathing suit, or even a wet tee shirt over a bathing suit--for those of you who know me, try to avoid the mental picture. In any case, we all love to swim, it is like flying, only in water instead of air. Who could possibly dislike that?
Well, it's not the swimming we dislike, or even the public picture we supply, but the PLUNGE.
We know it's going to be a shock and we avoid it, even though we know our bodies will adjust and the water will soon feel warm.
I liken this reluctance to using short moments to write. Oh, sure, we can all jump online and write a few emails--or blogs--and feel that blood pumping into our fingers, reintroducing them to the placement of the letters on the keyboard. We can even get a modest rush from a quip sent out into the universe, but that is not writing, working.
Were you a writer today? Writers write, right? So did you? Have you? Something that counts? Something with a WORD count? No?
Well, at least you admit it. The first of a 12 step program, and all that.
"Hello, I am Ainsley MacQueen, and I haven't written a bloody word today. In fact, forgive me, Writer, for I have sinned. I cannot call myself a writer today"....but the day's not over yet.
I am going to take the plunge. I have a mere 30 minutes before my husband will stomp in here and demand that I come to bed, so I am going to cannonball. No time to acclimate my silly toes, no chocolate, no ambiance. No going back a few pages to build up my speed. Damn the cold. It won't last long. One quick lap around the pool. Opening the file now....splash!
Come on in, the water's fine. But hurry, the pool closes soon, and you will wish you had!
Soon-to-be-dripping-so-don't-look Ainsley
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