never say goodbye ...

There’s a saying I like that’s really true: One cannot seek new horizons if one is afraid to leave the safety of the shore.

With that in mind, I’ve hedged on something all week. Should I, shouldn’t I? Why? Why not?

It all started when I answered five questions from Ian Lidster. And simultaneously read a post on KJ's new blog. And another by Kiyotoe. Then one of my closest friends left Seattle to begin a new life in Florida. Sometimes it takes just a little nudge to get us to regroup, recommit, or re-assess.

Whatever you call it, all three posts sparked that flame that flickers deep inside and I realized I’d been coasting, living in a very cushy comfort zone—something I knew intrinsically, but not a state I like to be in for too long.

I need to step it up, and step on out!

Won’t bore you with the details of my life, but as a result of this, I’ve made significant changes and have the opportunity to really stretch myself. And … most importantly (!) … I want to (choose to!) get away from the keyboard more. So last month I hired a personal trainer to get me reconditioned over the next few grey months. I want to learn to ski ‘properly’ this winter. I also want to master that darn snowboard once and for all; and go snow-mobiling and snow shoeing—without getting stuck in a drift!

To gain a better balance on my work and personal life, I need to create more creative space and time. That means letting go of, or subtracting, certain other roles and activities, most of which I can't/won't mention here for obvious reasons.

So it’s with much ambivalence, my bloggy-buds, that I sing “So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye” … at least for now.

Blogging was something I thought I’d do for a couple of months—and even though I was by no means a prolific blogger compared to most of you, 18 months later it’s like leaving the comfort of a home you’ve lived in for a while to move to a new town. Sad to be leaving, but excited about the journey and new challenges and opportunities ahead.

I hadn't expected to ‘meet’ such wonderful, warm, funny, wise and incredibly smart and talented people. So, thanks for the timely kick in the pants! Thanks to those who've left comments on-blog and off-blog.

And thanks to all of you who’ve made me laugh, learn, and cry by sharing your skills, experiences, and life-journeys.

Bibi’s come to the end of her Beat for a while … but I hope you’ll stay in touch …

Love and hugs x

P.S. I have withdrawal symptoms already.

perfect conditions

How many times has someone said to you “Some day I’m going to write a book …” Or, “When I quit work I’m going to dig out my easel and start painting.” Or maybe, “If I had the money to lock myself away in a mountain cabin, I’d get that screenplay finished.”

I’m guilty of saying similar things myself about a couple of my own pet projects yet to realize fruition. For me, it’s not always the number of paying projects I’m working on that stalls me, but the intensity and timeline of each project. For example, I’m currently working on 11 paid projects, which is down considerably from last month’s count, but the intensity is high and I’m working 7 days a week to maintain. Other months I have just one or two projects that require most of my time.

Last week, when I was interviewing bestselling true-crime author, Ann Rule, she inspired me to realize that—as much as I have to be organized—I often get in my own way.

For one, I like clean, clear and open space to work in, no clutter in sight. And most days I work in nothing less.

Yet, as I write this, at the end of a crazy week where I’ve juggled all day and everyday—as we all do—my desk is overflowing with books to review, publicity material to scan, a phone log with 13 calls to return, marketing collateral for my show, a network folder full of regional events I ‘should’ attend; guest material to research; and a folder full of resumes to sift through so that I have another pair of hands before I tear out what little hair I have left.

There’s a desktop LCD, two live-laptops ready to receive urgent client messages from different sources; a banker’s lamp on the far left corner and an artist’s magnifying light on the right. A bottle of coral nail polish, a vase of past-their-best roses, my old classic-sized DayTimer and my new full-size Covey planner. Then there’s a digital clock, salt rock to dispel negative electrons, three wireless mice, a wireless keyboard, and oops, another bottle of nail polish—this time pink. (Now you know what I do on global conference calls!)

There are two DVD roughs to sign-off on, as well as a list of production credits to proof and approve. Two staplers (don’t you hate when they run out and you’re in a hurry?) and a block of Post-it notes. A “No Whining” sign sits behind a framed plaque saying, “You can be pleased with nothing when you are not pleased with yourself”. (Must remind self of both sayings!) A cell phone, business phone, and an assortment of colored pens so I can color-code my new planner. (…anal?) And no less than two cups of cold coffee and a glass full of Perrier water.

“This is ‘My Life’” … oh no, wait, that’s the Cover Girl commercial.

Back to Ann Rule.

She was a cop turned writer. A single mom who had to find a way to make money when she could no longer be a cop because of eyesight limitations. And she found that way by setting up a typewriter in her kitchen and writing fantasy stories for True Confessions magazine, in and amongst the chaos of raising five children.

“We were so poor, for so long” she said, “but it teaches you, you can write through anything if you’re determined.”

She tells people who talk of seeking perfect conditions, like that cabin in the woods where everything is quiet (or the super clean desk), “It doesn’t work that way. If you want to write [act, paint, dance] you will find a way.”

And despite the huge disappointment of losing her career as a police officer, and her recollections of peeling fighting children off the top of her typewriter, Ann has now made the New York Times bestsellers’ list 26 times.

So, while I take a few minutes to clean and de-clutter my desk, tell me, what perfect conditions are you waiting for?

feeding your muse

Alfred Brooks thought he’d found her for-hire in the very bossy and money hungry Sharon Stone*. Ernest Hemingway apparently found her somewhere between the rim of a martini glass and the bottom of his fourth, fifth, even sixth bottle of wine or quart of whiskey.

And, too many to mention here, claim mental illness lifts them from the dullest of personalities into the occasional creative genius.**

In fact Kurt Vonnegut once said he’d be willing to suffer like Van Gogh to paint like Van Gogh … but not to paint like Gaugin.

So who is this Muse everyone talks of? What is she and where does she come from? And sometimes, we ask pulling our hair, why is she so elusive?

The word Muse means the one who remembers. In Greek mythology, Zeus and Mnemosyne—the personification of remembrance—had nine daughters.

All virgins, they each had a specific science or art to protect.

• Calliope protected elegies
• Melpomene, the tragedies
• Euterpe, flute playing
• Erato, love poems
• Tepsicore, choir lyrics
• Thalia the comedies
• Polyhymnia, dance and music
• Cleo (image above) protects the stories of heroes and history
• Urania, astronomy

Today, we less often rally a specific muse. We typically refer to 'The' Muse as an omniscient embodiment of all artistic creation and inspiration. And over the years, many have called upon her, hoping she’d bathe them in a sharp white floodlight of brilliance and creativity.

But as I padded up and down my studio in the dark hours one night, bare feet on bare boards, deadline looming, I realized, ‘nope’ … nine or one, there’s no Muse hiding here tonight!

I paused by a bookshelf, closed my eyes and softly trailed my fingers across the spines of the neatly arranged books on the second shelf. My pinkie snagged on a small paperback.

I tugged the book off the shelf and opened my eyes: Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing fell open to page 35: “What is The Subconscious to every other man, in its creative aspect becomes, for writers, The Muse.”

That’s it! The Muse is our own subconscious.

Bradbury goes on to say that we must feed our Muse, to keep our Muse, and asks: “How have you fed yourself over the years? Was it a banquet or a starvation diet?”

He’s not talking about food, but of senses and experiences; of looks, and sounds, and smells, and tastes, and touches.

What and who are we drinking in? How are we exploring and growing? Where do we spend our hours? And with whom? Who are our friends? Do they believe in us? Or do they stunt our growth with ridicule and negativity?

“These are the stuffs, the foods, on which The Muse grows …” Bradbury writes.

To feed your Muse, you must have been hungry and thirsty about life since childhood. And if you weren’t, haven’t been, and still aren’t—it’s never too late to develop your appetite and start feeding the Muse!

* The Muse, 1999 co-written and directed by Alfred Brooks.
** While many claim mental illness boosts their creativity above that of ‘normal’ people, many valid studies show this claim to be untrue and without merit.
Picture: Dr. Vollmer's Wörterbuch der Mythologie aller Völker.Stuttgart: Hoffmann'sche Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1874. Book: Zen in the Art of Writing: Releasing the Creative Genius Within You by Ray Bradbury.

don't let this stop you

Bless him. Didn’t have the heart to tell my hunky-honey that the letter he was waving in my face probably wasn’t even read by the executive producer whose signature wished him a dynamic and prosperous future.

“Don’t let this stop you,” the letter ended “... we look forward to hearing more of your music in the future.”

Like many of us when faced with rejection, he’d skipped over the formulaic middle paragraph, and zoned in on the bits that gave him the slightest hint of hope that this wasn’t ‘just a standard rejection letter’. After all, that was a real ink signature … wasn’t it?

I’ve blogged on rejection before, but let’s face it, whether you’re a working creative, a singleton on the dating scene, or a new-job seeker, rejection is going to happen.

According to psychologists worldwide, it’s the number one fear of mankind. That and public speaking. And when you’re emotionally attached to a particular piece of work or specific outcome, a resounding ‘thanks but no thanks’ is that much harder to swallow.

So, after our initial whining session, how do we make rejection more palatable?

If I had the answer to that I’d no doubt make a quick million. But here are seven tools that work for myself and others who are, alas, well-experienced in handling rejection!

1. Don’t automatically assume you did something wrong, or could have done something differently to influence the outcome. That may be true in some cases; but for the most part, rejection occurs due to a lack of confluence between you or what you’re presenting, and time-place-demand and/or desire. The stars were aligned—or they weren’t. Your work landed on the right desk on the right day—or it didn’t. You met the person who set your heart on fire when you were both willing and available—or you didn’t.


2. When a loved or desired one rejects you with “It’s not you, it’s me” believe them. It-is-ALL-About-Them. Always has been. Always will be.


3. When a potential employer rejects you, see it as positive. As a manager, I interviewed hundreds, if not thousands, of potential employees, and it simply boils down to a person being a good fit for the job/team—or not. Doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you or the employer. And you want a mutually beneficial match, right?


4. When an editor, producer, or gallery rejects your work, resubmit the piece to another pre-selected market the same day. If you have a good relationship with the rejecter, you can ask them why it didn’t fit their needs *if* and only if you did your homework and didn’t present them with something they’d already featured a couple of months ago.


5. Take inflammatory emotion out of the situation. The rejection is not meant to hurt or injure you as a person, or to crush your creative genius. It’s not personal—if you think it is, read number one again!


6. Make the Law of Averages work for you by checking-off the rejection as another step closer to getting a yes.
7. Don’t ever let the fear of rejection stop you from reaching out in any aspect of your life. Our wise elders always say, it's not the things they did that they regret. It's the things they did not do!
   

What do you have to add on rejection? How do you handle it? What type of rejection is hardest for you to deal with—emotional or work-related? And why?

procrastination

The art of writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants
to the seat of the chair. -Mary Heaton Vorse

Feeling a little overwhelmed this past month, mostly because of unrealistic self-inflicted deadlines, I found myself procrastinating (and still procrastinating) on a very important project. Important to Me, that is. No one else cares about that project. No one else is depending on me delivering the final goods. No one else will blink an eye if it never materializes. And that’s the problem.

When no one else depends on your delivery, without editorial deadlines or production milestones or scheduled review meetings, it’s far too easy to push aside the Important for the urgent or pressing “in-your-face” issues of the day.

And it’s even easier to succumb to the non-urgent issues of the day, such as going AWOL for a vanilla frapuccino and a chat with the barista. Or sailing off into the sun ( ... after all, it does rain here 300 days of the year!).

The irony is, that I most often procrastinate when I really care about a project—the perfectionist in me holding back until I know it can be perfect beyond a doubt—which, of course, is never!

I also procrastinate when I find a project dull or lacking challenge. Or if the project-at-hand doesn’t push my buttons. For example, I once scrubbed the entire house with a nail-brush and cooked a six-course cordon bleu meal, when I should have been studying for my upcoming six-hour registered stock broker’s licensing exam. The man of the house was thrilled, while my stress level soared through the roof knowing that I’d merely delayed the inevitable dreaded study of ‘puts, options, bonds, and living-wills’.

But that was many moons ago. And as much as I’ve procrastinated over the years—and still do—there are many more times when I’ve been so utterly absorbed by my work, that I forget to eat, drink, and sometimes, sleep.

At the end of the day, I always deliver. Always meet deadline. And I've learned that procrastination works for me as part of the creative process. I've learned that it’s good to sometimes allow a certain amount of time just to think ... letting fragments of ideas infuse, and thought patterns simmer, until that intangible 'something' kicks in and I’m at the boil raring to go!

So I’m not at all worried about my dalliances. And to prove that, by delaying the process even further, I looked up what other creatives had to say on the subject.
I discovered what I already knew—that at least in this area—I’m perfectly normal!

• Amy Holden Jones believes that all writers are good procrastinators. She says that the process is of writing is grueling, until her characters begin to come alive to her, and that’s when she develops a sense of connection with the project.
• Steven DeSouza, knows when he’s about to write because he becomes a neat freak, organizing his desk and tools until ‘it’ floods in.
• Leonardo da Vinci was known as ‘highly distractable’. He finished The Last Supper only after his patron threatened to cut off all funds. And he took 20 years to finish painting the Mona Lisa.
• Leslie Dixon says we all have what she calls ‘stalling mechanisms’. The phone, email, reading the newspaper. But she also believes that procrastination can be a tool for success; assuming you can control it and ultimately deliver the goods on time and in good shape, you’ll have the edge over those who can’t control it.
• Douglas Adams’ friend, Steve Meretzky says, "Douglas has raised procrastination to an art form. Hitchhikers Guide would never have gotten done if I hadn't gone over to England and virtually camped out on his doorstep."

And with that said, I must away and cease dilly-dallying the day. As Henry Ford said: "You can’t build a reputation on what you’re going to do." I'm starting to boil and that proposal won't finish itself!

So what are you ‘going’ to do? Do you procrastinate? When and why? And most importantly … how? Dish up now …

creating the epic story

Like many of you, I'm taking some downtime for this week's holiday. Since so many of you are creatives, thought I'd share a conversation I had with best-selling author, Terry Brooks. I found his method of auditioning characters fascinating. This was first published* several years ago, but the principles remain constant, and it's been one of my most requested reprints.

Happy 4th ... and for those who don't celebrate, go play anyway!! It's good for the Creative Soul.

Creating the Epic Story
Best-selling Author Terry Brooks
By Vicki St. Clair

Master storyteller Terry Brooks made publishing history in 1977 with his first book, The Sword of Shannara. Today, 16 million copies of his books are in print. Known for his sweeping epic adventures, Brooks has earned a legion of loyal fans with his fantasy tales. He recently took time out from working on his latest epic to share some of his insights...

You once said that fantasy is the only canvas big enough for you to paint on. What is it that draws you?

I was drawn to speculative fiction - and fantasy in particular - when I first was experimenting with different forms of writing. So much of what constitutes the body of work in fiction is limited to what we know about this world. But if you write fantasy, you can use an imaginary world and imaginary setting. And given that you are consistent with your writing...and believable...there's practically nothing that you can't develop or write about.

How did you get into epic storytelling?

[I] knew I wanted to write an adventure, but I didn't want the story set in the parameters of this world...and after I read Tolkien's work, I thought, this is the way to do it. Put it in a totally imaginary world where you can set up all the rules and the people, and you can draw parallels...where the readers will [see the connections] between what's going on in your imaginary world and what they know about the real world.

Who influenced you the most?

It's hard to pin it down because really it's your whole background of reading. I was inspired by the European adventure storywriters, Alexandra Dumas. Robert Louis Stevenson, Walter Scott. I was an English major, so I was reading Faulkner [and] Thomas Hardy. They were all having an impact on me in some way because they told sweeping sagas of various sorts...Hardy certainly did. And although he wrote about a confined area, [Faulkner's stories] were generational sagas about families and the interaction between those people.

So there were lots of different authors that influenced me. And you sort of build those blocks that get you to a certain point...so it's easy to say I wanted to retell the story of The Count of Monte Cristo, The Three Musketeers and Ivanhoe. But I wanted to tell them without the historical context.

How do you begin a new epic?

There's a three-step process I use every time:

• the dream process
• the organizational process
• the writing process.

The dreaming part is spending however much time it takes just thinking about everything that's going into the story - from the setting, to the characters, to the point of view, to the plot - and just playing with it. It's basically auditioning. I take my characters out, I dress them up, they read a part - and I see if l like them. If they're good, then I keep them in; if not, they go and wait for a chance to audition in the next book.

I see it like a movie in my head. [Characters] go through a part of the storyline...and by trying them out in different roles, I find out where they belong, and what it is they're about, and what the story's about. It's fragments at that point, with an overall story arc. I kind of know what I want this book to be about. I know where it starts, where it ends. I'm not sure how it's going to get there, I'm not sure who's going to influence things...that's what I'm playing around at.

When I have sufficient material to start putting the building blocks together, I go back to the outlining mode. I go back and forth, do character work-ups on paper, scene settings, names. And I do this chapter by chapter, until I have an outline in longhand on yellow paper that I feel comfortable with. It's probably not going to be the final story, but it's a starting place. Then I'll type that up and rework it yet again so I have a working blueprint. And then I'll write the story, and as I write...it will all change again.

As you write, you get a better sense of who your characters are and what the story's supposed to be, and the blueprint just helps keep you honest about decisions you might make to change things.

I talk to writers about this a lot...I believe very strongly that if you don't have that blueprint, you're going to make some bad choices because you haven't thought it through. It's too hard to create the story and think through what it is you want it to accomplish if you haven't done some groundwork.

I think most writers will tell you they live in their books all the time. You never get out of your storyline. I may be out for an evening, but I'm thinking about that last chapter. I'm thinking about a character that isn't quite right. I'm playing around with them in my head all the time.
Which characters pass the audition?

In serial stories and generational sagas, you have the same families from one book to the next. So you know that you're going to draw your core people from those families. And you know that you're going to have some kind of conflict and resolution, so you have to decide who's on each side of the conflict. That determines who your characters are going to be when you start out.

Frankly, there has to be a connection with the characters so that what they're accomplishing with their lives, in the story, makes you care ... makes you relate to how they feel and what they're going through. Then you draw from the world - I see a particular thing happen or read something in the paper and think, how can I use this? So I'll make a note and somewhere along the line I'll bring that person in.

The biggest trick to [keeping yourself] honest about what you're doing is not to use a character just because it's a cool idea. Particularly in fantasy, there's a tendency to give characters standard characteristics...like the idea of the blind seer. How many times has that been done? There are certain archetypes that you can't get away from. You know there's going to be some kind of transcendent character, someone who comes of age...who makes the jump between what they know and what's true. But characters should be in a story for a reason... Everything you do should dovetail into the story...everything, including your characters, should advance the story in some positive way.

How do you avoid your work becoming fragmented as you write the epic?

Outlining has always been the key for me. If I outline the story in advance, it's cohesive before I start. It's in my head. I have it on paper, I've thought about all the plotlines and I've worked out the thematic structure. I've drawn everything in tight enough and close enough that it's not so easy to wander off the way you do when you sit there and think, hmm, I wonder what ought to happen next?

I think that's where a lot of writers fall down...because when you start writing, the problem is that the story mutates along the way. It always becomes about something more than what you first thought.

Also, practice helps! If you do it long enough, you have a sense of whether it's going the way it should. If I didn't have to write to such tight deadlines, if I had [long periods] of time between books, I would lose it all...I'd have to learn it all over again.

What happens when you get into a book and you see it needs to go a different way?

That just happened to me with this book I'm writing now. It's a middle book, so it's sort of a transitional book.

A hundred pages into it, I knew that this book was about different forms of redemption. I had no clue that was what it was about when I first started. But it became very clear, seeing where the characters were going, what they were about, and what they were doing, that it was going to talk to the reader about...the possibility of redemption.

If I see the book needs to go a different way, I look at how that [will] impact everything I've already done, and how it [will] impact the rest of the story.

That's the advantage of the outline - you can look and see exactly how that's going to impact the rest of what you were going to do. And you can make the adjustments that you need to make with a few notes. Sometimes you have to rework the outline more comprehensively. But it's less guesswork... There's less writing yourself into a corner, where all of a sudden you haven't a clue where you're supposed to go.

I wrote myself into a 450-page corner with my second book and my editor said, "I'll help you out. Throw it away." It was a terrific lesson...a hard lesson...but a very important lesson, and I never made those mistakes again.

Any final words to epic storytellers?

Patience is a virtue. Perseverance is a necessary asset to your career as a writer. If you worry about publishing more than you worry about the process, you're probably doomed.


*This interview has been reprinted multiple times for a variety of usages. Please contact Vicki St. Clair for reprint rights.

blogging on

A distant friend apologized for not calling in a while, “…but I’ve been keeping up with you via your blog …” she said.

… what?!

I wondered how many other bloggers have heard statements like that. As though the daily ups and downs—all details of our lives—are routinely posted in cyber land!

I don’t know how it works for you, but I rarely know what I’m going to write about when I sit at my PC to post my blog.

A couple of weeks ago I sat down to write about the creative practice. But then my dog nibbled my toe, and I ended up blogging about him.


I once sat down to write about the unparalleled thrill of skydiving. But instead, I blogged about writing in the nude. Another time I planned to write about the rush of zip-wiring in the Sierra Madres ... or maybe unleashing one’s voice; but instead I wrote a letter to the VILE Rush Limbaugh.

Today was no exception. As I sat here running my fingers across the keyboard, eyes closed trance-like, much like a pianist running scales, I thought about those who say that, regardless of art-form, creatives must practice every day, no matter what … and I was about to very strongly disagree with them, when I realized (rather randomly) that another year had slipped silently by.

The one-year anniversary of Bibi’s Beat (no longer a virgin). Another Father’s Day without dad (pop, where are you?).  And it’s almost a year since I moved house and was terrified by midnight prowlers.

That is the beauty of blogging!

One gets to play with their blog instead of constantly being on deadline, restricted by column count, by topic, by editorial approval, or client-facing audiences.

I can set myself little tests: Write 372 words exactly. Write only for 12 minutes. Pick a word and create a post around the word. Type a random question and take it from there.

I might think about someone who's missed, and a great day we once shared. Recall an unpleasant time of life and the lessons learned. Let rip on something I feel strongly about, or pick a stance on a topic and write the opposite viewpoint.

I might write about something that happened three years ago today. At 4 pm last Wednesday. Or maybe, never at all. And since I post only once a week, blogging provides a playful break in the routine of writing for money!

A pleasant, and unexpected, outcome of blogging, is the interaction between so many wonderful and talented creatives. I’ve learned, laughed, and cried along the way with all of you!

But I’m curious about you. Why do you blog? Does it sometimes become a chore? How much time do you spend blogging? Do you ever think of quitting (I know some of you do because I’ve read you say so!) And if so, what keeps you blogging on?


PS. Sorry ... there's an issue with the links to archive posts ... if you click on a link, that particular post will appear underneath today's post.

writing for lemons: part II

If you read writing for lemons-part I, you know exactly why I was sitting slumped at the breakfast table drinking cold coffee.

The shears were being returned. Unopened. I reached for the bag of groceries I’d brought in and started unpacking and ... unpeeling.

Every piece of fruit and veg I’d bought, from bananas, cantaloupe, oranges, apples, lemons, to cucumber, tomatoes, and squash, had an annoying little sticker very firmly attached to the skin. Oh, please!

I began washing and scraping the stickers off two dozen lemons. What words of wisdom are sellers trying to impart to consumers, I wonder? What could possibly be of such great importance that it has to be announced on every single piece of fresh produce?

Was it a health warning about pesticide use? Or had lemons suddenly been linked to cancer? Or brain tumors?

I grabbed the Sherlock Holmes magnifying glass (again) and hovered the lens above the label. Hmm … it ... says … ock!! “LEMON.”

Now, I know firsthand that decisions in corporations are rarely made quickly. So I imagine a typical scenario in making such an earth shattering revelation, and wonder: Who wrote the copy on that? And what was their fee? Was the writer with an ad agency, or was he/she plucked from the marketing team? Who developed the concept? Approved the proof? Did it get redlined and redrafted? Did they use an editor to make sure it was spelled correctly? And most importantly: How many branding hours were billed?

If they are going to take the time to label every piece of food for us ijeet consumers, shouldn’t they also offer the explanation in Spanish? “Limon.” Or is this a subtle way of teaching the English language? You know, like we had labeled picture books in kindergarten … table, chair, bed … lemon.

Seems I have more questions than answers. But, I guess if you can get it, writing for lemons would be a pretty safe gig.

writing for lemons: part I

No, this isn’t a piece about being paid for your writing with lemons. It’s part one of writing for lemons. Confused?

Well let me back up a bit.

It all began when I got frustrated with the Fort Knox of packaging that encased a pair of pruning shears I’d bought on sale at Target. I could not, for the life of me, get the gosh-golly-darn shears out of the plastic tomb they lay in.

After fingers and teeth failed to unravel the seal, I took a large pair of kitchen scissors to the thinnest edge of the package. Then I took my electric carving knife to it. And finally, I ran into the garage and revved up my newly acquired electric hedge clippers. But all to no avail. The shears lay ensconced in plastic, allowing quick-and-easy, front-and-back view, but zero access.

Thinking there must be some new-fangled way into the case, I flipped it over and started reading the instructions printed on the back. Now what’s the point of putting all those words on a package when NO ONE can read them because the font is Times New Roman point-minus-three !

I grabbed the Sherlock Holmes type magnifying glass that I keep with my kitchen utensils …

“Do not chew or swallow casing. Do no cut hair with shears. Do not allow children to play with blades. Do not run with shears. Do not …”

Everything but HOW TO GET THE IJEET SHEARS OUT OF THE PLASTIC CASE.

Grrr. I sat down at the breakfast table and sipped the coffee that had gone cold during the 30 minutes I'd spent fiddling with the shears. And then it occurred to me. Even though they had omitted the crucial step—the key to unlocking the plastic tomb—a writer had actually sat down and written all that junk on the back of the shears.

I rolled my eyes and wondered if it was the copy editor who'd cut the line: “Here’s how to open …”


Part two of writing for lemons next week

laptop freedom (?)

Do you remember life sans Smart Phones and Bluetooth? Before broadband and wireless connection and Sidekicks, Blackberries, and laptops? I hardly do. Carry-along technology is so common place today that we take it for granted. But I was clearing up a bunch of old files and came across the blurb below—the first thing I wrote when I was setting up my first-ever laptop.

Reading what I wrote 'back then', in the pre-common place days, I remember how excited I was by my perceived new found freedom—the ‘freedom’ I sometimes curse now as a ball and chain.

"So ... this is the first time I have used my new laptop and already it has changed my life. You may think that’s a rather extreme statement—that I’m prone to hyperbole.

Well, okay, I admit that on occasions I have used the term millions when several would have been closer to the truth. Or that I’ve claimed to have gained a ton when I really meant 7lbs. And that I’ve even said the party was a blast when I actually found it a superficial bore and couldn’t wait to get home.

But I am not spinning a top when I tell you that this machine, notebook, laptop—whatever you want to call it—has changed my life in an instant!

You don’t believe me? Well let me tell you that I finished a 50-page report last night, sat in bed puffed up by pillows, with my sleek black notebook perched on top of a silk peach cushion. First thing this morning I walked to the coffee shop—laptop in hand—for a pot of hot ginger peach tea and a cranberry nut muffin where I finished editing a proposal. Then me and Conan (yes I’ve named him/it/her) drove here, to the park, to feed the ducks.

And as I write this, I’m sitting at the picnic table closest to the edge of the lake, where I’ve just finished proofing the article I have to deliver tomorrow. I am no longer chained to the one table where my desktop sits … I am free … in the park, breathing fresh air, feeding the ducks, and writing away ... "

creative habits: subtraction

There are many myths surrounding creative people and the way they think and live, and one of the biggest, as any creative will tell you, is the myth that everything they touch turns to gold.

Sure, there are times when everyone has sudden bursts of effortless creativity. But there are just as many times when a seemingly insignificant creation was preceded by hours, even months or years, of grinding hard work and hair-tearing angst.

Ever curious, I’m always interested in the work habits of other creatives and one of my favorite books on the subject is The Creative Habit by international choreographer Twyla Tharp. “Creativity is not a gift from the gods,” she says, “ … it is the product of preparation and effort.”

When we first toy with a new idea or project, sensory intake increases dramatically as we consider feasibility and play with various viewpoints, forms, media, visuals, and other possibilities.

Tharp says that during this phase, she wants to place herself in a bubble of "monomaniacal absorption" where she’s fully invested in nothing but the task at hand.

She’s turned this process into a ritual she calls subtraction. “I list the biggest distractions in my life and make a pact, to myself, to do without them for a week.”

Her subtraction list includes:

Movies, multitasking (no reading on the StairMaster or eating while working), anything related to numbers such as contracts, bank statements, bathroom scales etc., and background music.

The first time I read this I thought, brilliant! Obvious, but brilliant. So at the start of my next project, I cut out several of my biggest distractions and, of course, thought more clearly and accomplished much more in a shorter period of time.

And then, being human, I forgot all about the ritual of subtraction until I recently re-read her book.

Timing was perfect. About to begin pre-production on an important project I decided that a little subtraction would work well this week. For me, this isn’t a hardship or applied discipline or forced structure. I genuinely find that subtracting for a week, or sometimes even just a day or two, really helps to put me in a different zone.

My subtraction list includes:

Television & radio.
Daily newspaper.
Personal email, snailmail, phone calls.
Internet.
Shopping of any kind ( … so I need to get milk and cookies in!)

As well as subtracting, I also add a few simple things that feed my soul such as nightly bubble baths, evening candlelight versus electric light, extended walks on the beach, and music.

What creative rituals or processes work well for you? Do you add or subtract things from your life? What are your distractions?

what's in a nom de plume?

I know many professional writers who refuse to publish under any name but their own. After heartfelt blood, sweat, and tears, they want full recognition, damn it!

But there are others—myself included—who don’t mind anonymity. And in some cases, actually seek it.

The big question I’m always asked is why, after all that work, do you want to publish under anything but your own name?

I hate to suck the joy or mystery from the creative process, but it often boils down to the business of branding. An author might write for multiple genres; in competing markets; or want to create an identity as an expert on a very specific subject. They may also want to write about deeply personal issues, be extremely shy, or want to distance themselves from a particular subject or controversial stance. And sometimes, a writer has no choice.

The publisher or agent wants a sexier name, a different image, or has a marketing crisis because your name is too similar to another author on his/her list. They may even want to ‘place’ you on the bookshelves next to an already established author—as in the case of Ian Rankin, who took the name Jack Harvey so that it planted his work in the middle of the shelf (close to Jack Higgins).

I first used a pseudonym in a Cosmo-type magazine, for two reasons.

Firstly, because I still worked in the corporate world and my boss would have deemed it inappropriate for a manager in my position to write about ‘such things’. I’d have received a quick adios amigo … and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Secondly, because I’m a very private person who believes that my personal life is just that—personal. (So no, I'm not sharing my other names here!)

Janet Fitch, author of White Oleander, says: “Anytime you work with materials that are deep parts of yourself, you feel revulsion at sharing things about yourself that you do not want people to know.” *

I don’t know that I’d use the word revulsion. Embarrassment. Fear. Vulnerability. Feeling over-exposed, all ring truer for me.

As someone who’s known for never broadcasting love’s highs and lows, or family issues, or friends’ secrets, I wanted to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge a few years ago when a deeply personal and intimate story—involving a man I loved very much—was “accidentally” published under my own name in a very popular international anthology.

Of course, no one else knew or cared, and the publisher was very apologetic. But I couldn’t have felt worse if I’d been stripped naked and made to stand in the middle of Times Square next to the singing cowboy and his dirty yellow y-fronts. I did, however, learn a very valuable lesson about double and triple-highlighting the “publishing as nom de plume … ” box on all future releases.

So why do other writers use pseudonyms?

Writing across multiple genres or different character series

• The queen of mystery novels, Agatha Christie, wrote romance novels as Mary Westmacott.
• Bestselling romance author Norah Roberts switches gear when she writes erotic thrillers under the pen name J.D. Robb.
• Samuel Langhorne Clemens wrote about different subjects, using different voices, under the names Mark Twain and Sieur Louis de Conte.
• Mathematician Charles Lutwdige Dodgson wrote academic papers on logic using his own name, but wrote Alice in Wonderland as Lewis Carroll.
• John Creasey published almost 600 books using 28 pseudonyms including the female nom de plume, Margaret Cooke.
• Evan Hunter found fame as Ed McBain, but also wrote as Curt Cannon, Hunt Collins, Ezra Hannon, and Richard Marsten.
• Robert Ludlum also writes as Jonathan Ryder. Barbara Vine as Ruth Rendell. Jack Higgins is Henry Patterson. And Alistair MacLean, Ian Stuart.
• Pulitzer prize winning journalist, John Camp, writes suspense novels as John Sanford.
  
  

Gender switching

Less than a hundred years ago publishers rarely signed female authors, and to avoid automatic rejection, many women submitted their manuscripts using male pseudonyms. Even today, women who write for genres typically considered male-dominated, often publish using male names, or just initials as in the case of J.D. Robb.

• Charlotte Bronte published under the name Currer Bell.
• Mary Ann Evans wrote as George Eliot.
• Katherine Alice Applegate writes as Nicholas Stevens.

Likewise, female readers often prefer to read stories written by women and The Romantic Novelists' Association claims several male members writing as women:

• Ian Blair writes as Emma Blair.
• Hugh Rae as Jessica Stirling.
• Roger Sanderson, as Jill Sanderson.

Image

• Author Eric Blair believed his family would be devastated once they discovered he’d lived down-and-out in Paris and London, and so George Orwell was born out of embarrassment.
• Collaborators F. Dannay and Manfred B. Lee published their mystery series under the name Ellery Queen.
• Teodor Jozef Konrad Korzeniowski wrote Heart of Darkness as Joseph Conrad.
• By dropping the Pearl and adding an e, Pearl Gray became the very successful Western author, Zane Grey.
• And doesn't Isaac Asimov sound much more of a sci-fi expert than Paul French?

Secret identity

Rather than use a pseudonym to determine if his work as an “unknown writer” would receive as much interest as his "non-pseudonym work", Stephen King created a whole secret identity. Publishing under the name Richard Bachman, book jackets displayed a photo of an anonymous male claiming to be Bachman.

Bachman was eventually killed off with ‘cancer of the pseudonym’ after word got out that King was the author. And yes, the Bachman sales shot up.

That’s branding folks!

* Oleandar quote excerpted from a Writer's Digest interview.

r.e.j.e.c.t.i.o.n

I was nine-years-old when Cadbury, UK published my first non-fiction story. I used my parents’ medical books and encyclopedias for research; wrote descriptive detail of how cocoa magically transformed into chocolate; and drew colorful crayoned pictures of the cocoa plant and the lithe, dark-skinned men who nurtured them. Who cared that my tale was published across Great Britain—I’d won a huge red-ribboned basket stuffed full of rich creamy chocolate bars!

When my first play was selected to be ‘produced’ by the city's regional arts collaboration, I was barely 12. Yippee-skippee! I got to miss math and chemistry while I 'directed' and 'starred' in my own upstairs-downstairs murder mystery.

I won again the following year, and my 13-year-old-self was overcome with glee as I got to openly express rude comments about our headmistress. You see, it wasn’t really me calling Miss Reid a silly old nincompoop with a broom up her bottom, it was him over there—Sherlock Holmes!

Since this was a ‘bigger production’, I took the smaller role of Watson, and gave my best friend her first starring role as Holmes. (Alas, with the exception of a pompous uniformed doorman and two very strange caretakers, it was an all-girls school, ergo no kissing scenes between Sherlock and the woman who tried to lead him astray.)

Some 20 years passed before I wrote anything else beyond love letters, shopping lists, or business reports. Maybe it was naiveté, beginner’s luck, or simply being in the right place at the right time, but the first piece I submitted was accepted and published in a national magazine. Piece of cake, I thought, while quickly hacking out my second query. And that’s when it reared its ugly head. The thing that human potential experts say almost everyone fears more than death itself: R.E.J.E.C.T.I.O.N.

I was half expecting it. I’d been a corporate manager the past 15 years; I'd studied motivation, communication, leadership, and human potential. I'd taught sales psychology, overcoming objections, reading buying signals, turning around rejection. I knew that for every sale one of my employees made, they’d need to average a hundred calls.

It was business, I knew not to take it personally; I knew to deal with it and move on to the next. But it shook the perfectionist in me just enough that I felt certain I had nothing more to offer and I didn’t write for another two years.

Retreating into the cloisters of the corporate closet, I secretly plotted and dreamed of quitting the bank, letting the door slam loud and hard on my way out. I read every book about writing, or writers, that I could lay my eyes on. Sat through dozens of seminars with some of LA’s finest—and worst. And talked with other writers, well-established and not. This is what I learned.

• Practicing any art form takes courage. Sharing it with others takes boldness. And submitting your work for sale—for publication, production, or show—takes a whole other level of desire and drive.
• Rejection sucks … get used to it.
• Rejection is part of the game … get used to it.
• ALL writers get rejected … get used to it.

If these 10 writers hadn't got used to it (some 1,500 plus times!) here's some of the work we'd have missed:

• Richard Bach - Jonathan Livingston Seagull rejected more than 145 times.
  
• J. K. Rowling - Harry Potter rejected by more than 30 publishers.
  
• Stephen King - Carrie rejected more than 30 times.
  
• John Creasy - British mystery author’s first novel rejected 774 times (he’s now published more than 550 books!)
  
• Alex Haley- received 200 rejections before publishing Roots.
  
• Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen - first ever Chicken Soup for the Soul rejected by 33 publishers.
  
• Mary Higgins Clark - received 40 rejections before selling first story.
  
• Dr. Seuss - first book rejected 24 times.
  
• Louis L’Amour - received 200 rejections before selling first novel.
  
• Norman Mailer - The Naked and the Dead rejected 12 times.

Last but not least, legend has it that F. Scott Fitzgerald papered his bedroom walls with rejection slips before finally selling his first story.

As for me, it’s now 8 years since I quit the bank and I’m well over the rejection issue. My first book manuscript was rejected by 30 British, 17 Canadian, and 41 US publishers before I got a nibble. Onward and upward!

writers on longhand

“Anyone can become a writer. The trick is staying a writer.”

Harlan Ellison.

For five months I’ve been driving back and forth between every furniture store in Western Washington, who BTW, all carry the same ugly, unstylish desks in the same limited six colors. But enough’s enough. I made a snap decision. “That one!” I told the sales clerk. “Let’s order it now … book someone to come out and put it together now … before I change my mind.” (Again.)

I wanted Manhattan loft-style, Parisian chic, with a touch of LA smooch. What I ended up with was … well … what I ended up with.

A week later the ‘new desk’ is all set up. LCD in place, speaker phone at the perfect angle, low lamp and high lamp directed to optimize mood and light. Necessary ‘bits’ tucked neatly in drawers. And a mug full of imported English Ginger Beer spitting bubbles at my fingertips.

And now, oh you’ve guessed it. I have nothing to say. Nada. Rien. Niente. Nichts.

Looking for inspiration I grab one of hundreds of books from a shelf.

“Write about what you know”, it says. Hmmm, today that feels like nothing. Nada. Rien … oh here we go again.

“Write about your family”, it says. Errr, that’s a definite no. Won’t risk my brother reciprocating by posting ‘ugly-big-sis’ pictures on his photo-blog.

“Write about the horizon”, it says. Could do, but it’s pitch black outside. So I can see nothing. Nada … rien …

Still uninspired, I blame my new desk. (Doesn’t every bad workman blame his tools?) And then I remember an interview I did several years ago with movie writer and novelist, Gerald Di Pego, and decide instead, to blame my computer.

Di Pego wrote over 30 screenplays in 30 years, achieving massive Hollywood recognition and multi-million dollar paycheck status with the movies Phenomenon, Instinct, The Forgotten. But he always—as in always—wrote his screenplays and novels longhand, using the same brand of pen and notepad.

Neil Simon wrote his plays longhand using a fountain pen and extra long legal pads, all of which he brought back from England.

Tom Peters, author of In Search of Excellence, told me he too wrote longhand; again, using pens and extra-long legal pads from England.

According to legend, J. K. Rowling drafted the beginnings of the Harry Potter series on napkins in a Scottish coffee shop. And Erma Bombeck apparently got her start by scribbling longhand in the back of her station wagon (that she drove around the corner to escape her kids).

Each of them had their own reasons for writing longhand. Neil Simon said he simply never got on with typewriters, word processors, PCs; he felt technology hindered the creative aspect of writing. Peters, being Peters, wouldn’t give his reasons, even when I asked him directly.

But Di Pego spoke from his heart when he patted my hand and told me to write from my heart.

He believes that writing longhand encourages free-flow from the mind to the heart to the page. He feels it more personal, more allowing, more expressive.

I agree, there’s something instantly freeing about gliding pen and ink across a clean page. Something close to excitement about opening a blank book; the salivating anticipation of a new beginning.

My hastily scribbled morning pages are always hand written using the same emotionally selected A4-size journals, and one of two hand-crafted pens that were both gifts. I always brainstorm new projects and longer features using large sketchbooks and smooth wall-mounted whiteboards. But write an assignment, let alone a play or manuscript longhand? I would never meet a deadline!

How about you ... do you ever write longhand? If so, why, when, and where?

a blog with no name

I’ve written three articles this week on top of a 55-hour project week, a day full of gardening, an hour of parasailing through the South Sound (… the manifestation of pure glee!!), and a couple of hours of kayaking off Whidbey Island. And somewhere in the middle there, I managed to nurture a good friend from California, broken hearted after his boyfriend dumped him; catch up on two long overdue letters home; dine out with my guests from New York; and even grab a few hours sleep along the way. But, “GDI” (gosh darn it—hokey but “politically correct”) I could not for the life of me, come up with a topic for this week’s blog!

I could blog on how tired I am of hearing the term “PC”—but I’m so bored of hearing diluted, superficial, “politically correct” blandness that I can’t be “FB” (flippin’ bothered). And I’m even more bored by the people who hook their fingers in the air doing that wiggly rabbit-ear thing, as if they are wrapping quotes around the term “PC”. What’s wrong with having an opinion these days?

I could blog on how freeing it felt to parasail across the Puget Sound, shoulder-to-shoulder with seagulls, overlooking the Olympic Mountains and nose to-tip with the still snow-crested Mount Rainier—but I’m afraid I’m getting “SA” (somewhat addicted) to the adventure rush since I almost ditched the gardening day to soar amongst the clouds again.

I could blog on how perfect today was as I meditated while plucking roses in a gentle ocean breeze—but then I’d have to tell you how I moved a planter and disturbed a family of frogs who quickly scattered the lawn, driving me screaming into the street. And then you’d know what a “GBFW” (great big fat wuss) I am.

So in light of last week's blog, when I vowed to reassess priorities and do what’s important to me, I’ll just say how "GD" good life is, and how grateful I am for “TSTIL” (the simple things in life)—even if it’s not always “PC” to say so.

eavesdropping at large

The hour I'd set aside for this week's blog quickly vanished when a rush weekend assignment called me out of town. So I'd like to share an excerpt from one of my column's with you.~v

It’s Monday. A whole day where I make no business calls, do no research, no writing, no marketing, no e-mailing, no eavesdropping. Well ... almost no eavesdropping.

Ask any writer and they’ll tell you it’s habitual. That over the years you learn to have a pleasant and fully engaged conversation with a buddy, while simultaneously—and surreptitiously—scanning and sorting the conversations taking place across at least three neighboring tables in your local coffee shop.
Like the auto-tune on a radio, you’re able to hone in to what’s interesting, and might some day make good copy, versus what’s boring and can be skipped over. You learn to zone into the quietest mutterings with a bionic-like ear, sometimes learning far more about the strangers huddled on the sofa by the fire than you care to.

And I should know better. My Victorian-born grandmother, sadly long deceased, admonished me as a child when I blatantly listened to others' conversations, telling me it was impolite and that I should not be so rude. But despite my typically good British manners, I consider coffee shops exempt from this rule. Free-for-all. No holds barred.

Look around any cafe and you’ll see many people seemingly interacting in deep conversation; but then you’ll catch a tell-tale sign that at least one ear is subtly scanning the surroundings like a metal detector ready to beep over a possible gem. It might be a slight shift in body weight, a leaning to one side. A quick slide of the eyes to the animated couple sitting to the left. Or an out-and-out stare. Used to be that we sat and ‘people-watched’ at crowded malls or steamy café windows. Now we sip double-double mocha’s and eavesdrop. And it’s not just writers.

A non-writer friend once shushed me because she couldn’t quite hear what the lady with the pink stockings was saying to the person of undetermined sex in the gray sackcloth. Another friend went to the bathroom just to get a closer look at the “moron” (her term) who kept griping at life’s unfairness, and how he wished he could experience what his wife felt as she breast-fed their new baby.

I concede that some writers take eavesdropping to a heightened level, but we do so with purpose. We’re always looking for new ideas. Fresh points of view. Tantalizing lines. Heady description and interesting tales and opinions—even if they do come from secondhand observation.

During the course of our regular coffee (or sanity) breaks, where we rally over the highs of a new project and bemoan the writer’s angst, my writer friends frequently grab their ever-present notebooks to jot down a word or a line before it slips into oblivion. No matter how much we tell ourselves we’ll remember that killer-phrase, we know we won’t, and in the absence of a notebook, a napkin or palm of the hand will suffice.

Conversations with a screenwriter friend are frequently stalled, while he punches whole dialogs into his slimline laptop. Once, while enjoying my favorite grande-nonfat-caramel machiatto, extra hot, extra sauce, he whispered a melodramatic “cut…” freezing me mid-frame while he captured the glee of three 5th-grade boys snorting latte down their freckled noses as they shared jokes, each one grosser, and apparently, funnier than the last.

Another time he raised a long artistic finger signaling that our chatter pause momentarily while he immortalized the sorry line that the guy with yellow bleached hair just hung on the girl with no lips. Obviously their first date, probably their last!

An author friend readily admits that when she’s feeling stuck, or even just bored, she’ll cruise a couple of coffee shops down by the beach hoping to find some good home-grown conversation to spawn the beginnings of an idea. While a talented colleague attributes his recent award-winning TV commercial entirely to a conversation he overheard between two teenage girls, while downing a triple-shot Espresso.

So, I’m sorry dear grandmother, but no matter how distasteful you’d find this revelation—and I know that you would—I make no apologies for my writer friends and their rude behavior!

Writers aren’t nosy for the sake of being nosy. They’re curious about people and about life. Always searching, always reaching, always exploring. Just as an artist looks for inspiration in the color of falling leaves and the texture of rain-washed cliffs, a writer’s imagination can be sparked by a word or an off-hand remark, and eavesdropping in coffee shops simply goes with the territory.

So how do I amuse myself while my cohorts snatch moments in time from the lives of complete strangers? Why, by eavesdropping, of course.

© 2004 Vicki St. Clair. Excerpt from Bibi's Beat column first published in Authentic Living.