28 Tricks for Tough Writing Days

Maybe you're in a slump, maybe you don't know what happens next, or maybe you'd just rather not. Maybe your brain is all dried up, or maybe your words ran away. 

For one reason or another, you need a different kind of writing day.

Here are twenty-eight tricks for those tough writing days. Yeah. Just imagine them with a big bow on top, and maybe some chocolate and fancy pens: a little gift from my writing life to yours.

Some are creative adventures, to refill up your imagination. And some are ways to reframe the work itself, and hopefully to get you writing again.

Any one of them could be a nice boost to a writing day. Combine a few, and you'll have a great creative retreat.

Ready? Have fun!

1. Start by acknowledging that it's a rough day. Sometimes I put too much energy into fighting a weird writing mood, instead of finding ways to go forward. (It helps so much if you're not fighting.)

2. Post a few photographs of writers you admire around your workspace. Imagine them saying witty, kind, encouraging things to you. Believe them. Write.

3. Visit a quirky nearby museum. Even if--especially if--you know nothing about the collection. Write about what you see. Give a piece in the museum a role in your story. You never know what you might stumble across. 

4. Write from a different vantage point. Sit on your garage floor, or climb up onto your roof, or toss some pillows into your bathtub and write from there. (I discovered the bathtub as a writing place during a tornado warning. It's awesome. Like a cocoon.)

5. Go write in a bookstore or a library. Write while you're surrounded by other words. Let them cheer you on.

6. Switch genres for a while. Try writing your next scene as a poem, a graphic novel, a play, a children's picture book, an encyclopedia entry, a comic strip. 

7. Seek some sympathy from a writing friend. Maybe you just need a bit of human interaction! Buzz around on Twitter, send an email to a writing buddy, or hang out on writing blogs. (Hi, friend!)

8. Change the music that you're listening to as you write. (Or, start listening to some, if you usually don't.) Try soundtracks, try classical. Try nature noises, or opera. Or some crazy electronica stuff, or whatever else the kids are listening to these days. Switch it up. Get a new beat in your ears.

9. Browse one of your favorite novels. Flip around and just study the paragraphs, the ways the chapters begin and end, the flow of the dialogue. Use the same strategies to help kickstart your next writing session.

10. Take a break and tidy your workspace. Clear out the clutter. Get rid of the dirty dishes (whoops, is that just me?). Moving around is always good, and your mind just might appreciate the clear space.

11. Set a timer for ten minutes, and write a sentence that runs for a page or three. Every time you'd like to put a period, just add a comma, and keep going. (Got this trick from Judy Reeves. Try it--it's amazing what it unlocks.)

12. Play around with hand lettering. Letters are our medium after all! This is a great way to let yourself play a bit, to lighten your grip on the day, while still staying close to words. (If you need inspiring, just go here. Then get doodling!)

13. Spend some time with a quality book about writing or creativity. (Try A Year of Writing Dangerously, Wonderbook, or Steal Like an Artist.)

14. Go write in a coffee shop; go write in a restaurant. Mix up your environment. Eavesdrop like a writer. (And eat some good food, or get some caffeine. See what I'm really up to?)

15. Visit your nearest art museum. Drink up the colors, all the shapes. Find a piece that reminds you of your story. Sit. Write. (No art museum nearby? Behold, the Internet!)

16. Find your favorite line in your current project. Treat it like a famous quote from an amazing writer. (Because you are!) Print it out in a marvelous font, or hand-letter it yourself. Post it. Believe in the power of your words.

17. Take a break and go bake something. Cooking always jars a few words loose in me. And hey, even if it doesn't for you, you've got something yummy coming out of the oven in a bit. I call that a win.

18. Write crap. Really. Aim super low. Overuse all the adverbs we're not allowed to use anymore. (Very! Really! Like, totally!!) Make all the mistakes. Reach for every cliché. Just lower that bar all the way to the ground. It's freeing, and one of my favorite ways to get unstuck.

19. Go on a photograph safari. Take a walk and snap dozens of pictures. Or photograph objects in your house. Get back into your eyes. Look closely at the actual nouns all around you. 

20. Try writing by hand on small pieces of paper. I've had really good luck writing passages on little sticky notes, and I've done a whole novel on index cards. It's a much smaller canvas to fill, and somehow the words come running out.

21. Practice gratefulness. Write a thank you note to a writer you admire, encourage a writing friend, or go be kind to your local librarians. The hard days are a good reminder that there are a lot of us struggling forward, day by day. Go love on someone else who works with words. 

22. Go take a shower. Or go do the dishes. (Or anything else mundane and familiar that requires water.) I have no idea why, but this always works when I'm stuck on a plot snag. (Bonus: things are clean when you're done.)

23. Declare a reading holiday. Take time to just get drunk on words. Brew some tea, get out that novel you've been looking forward to, and read.

24. Take a long walk to get the blood moving, and then flop down and stare at the clouds for a while. Let your mind drift. And then tell yourself your story. Like you're telling it to someone who is sure to love it. Connect back to the heart of it, away from computer screens and word quota charts. Just focus on the story itself.

25. Spend some time curating a list of fantastic quotes about writing, quotes about the power of words, quotes that motivate you. Everyone needs at least a bazillion of these, wouldn't you agree? (You know I love writing quotes! I did a series on thirty favorites.)

26. Wander a cemetery for a while. Read the names and epitaphs, and think about all the lives--all those stories!!--represented there. Maybe it will inspire another scene for you; or maybe that sense of life's fragility will give you the courage to write this story with the time you have.

27. Write out all your plot problems or creative frustration in a journal. Write down exactly what's hard, and consider how to fix it. Interview yourself. Maybe something will break loose or maybe not, but either way: you're writing now. 

28. Or just let your goals go for the day. Relax by watching some movies about writers. (Stranger than Fiction, anyone?) Let yourself off the hook. Get some rest. Eat some healthy food. (Or not.)

And try again tomorrow.

Can We Stop Being Weird About Writer's Block?

Confession: I promised myself that I would never talk about writer's block. I mean, we've heard enough about it by now, right?

We've heard the debate: Does it exist, does it not exist. Are we lazy, are we unprofessional, or is inspiration a huge mystical thing and we haven't done the right sacrifices...

I'm tired of people saying, "I don't feel like writing today THAT MEANS I HAVE WRITER'S BLOCK, DOESN'T IT."

Oof. No. That's not what it means. 

And, on the other side of the spectrum, there are the people who shout: "Writer's block is just a construct. No other profession hides behind this. Be a professional."

I find that point of view extremely . . . unhelpful. (I'd like to hear what they have to say to a runner with a broken leg. Is that just a construct?) 

I believe that inspiration can be sought and found. I've done some excellent writing on days when I would have given my teeth to not write. Sometimes I go to my desk kicking and screaming.

But: I do think that there are times when we just can't write. There are times when your writing project cannot and will not go forward. 

The blocks that I've hit fall into three categories. And because I'm clever and subtle, I'll just call them Small, Medium, and Large. Here's what they're like, and a few ideas for how to get around them. Okay? Let's go.

The Small Blocks

What it feels like: These are the days you look at your computer or your draft, and you just feel this huge upwelling of "meh." This is your internal, "I would really rather not." It can keep you from your writing for a day or two... And that can grow into a few weeks. 

What that might mean:

• This is hard.

• I'm not prepared.

• I'm really out of love with this part of the process.

• Chocolate.

What you can do about it:

• Writing is hard. So, this is an accurate assessment. Look around at how you're moving forward, and see if you're making it harder. Are you putting restrictions on your work that maybe you don't need right now? Can your deadline be adjusted? Is your topic too restrictive? Do you maybe need to bring in a bit more play, try to have more fun?
   

• Get your tools out. Are you writing from an imaginatively dry place because you didn't research? (I do this all the time! Ack!) Maybe you need to browse a reference book or four, maybe you need to do a little Internet rabbit trailing? Or, maybe it's a writing skill that you need: grab a book on scenes, on structure, on dialogue. You can learn anything. Take the time to go for it.
   

• You might be getting near burnout. Try working on a different part of the project. Try cajoling yourself back into it with some playful exercises. Give yourself an intentional, guilt-free day off to try and get some perspective. Read for fun. Take a nap. Clear your head for a bit, and then go back to it. Reward yourself for every step forward.
   

• Eat the chocolate. Always. 

The Medium Blocks

What it feels like: It feels like there's an actual obstacle between you and your work. Your brain is fizzing-full of anxiety. Or, your brain is wiped clean of any real ideas. You go through your usual tricks, but the words are all coming out sideways. There is angst. Deep frustration. In spite of faithfully showing up and "trusting the process," you feel like you're just spinning your wheels.

What that might mean:

• I'm not going to make the deadline.

• I'm panicking.

• The topic is wrong. Or the point-of-view is wrong. Something's just... wrong.

• I can't keep working because I'm just making it worse.

What you can do about it:

• Find a way to get yourself more time. To breathe. Deadlines are awesome to get you moving. But if you've taken a wrong turn, they might just help you get lost faster. Lighten your load, any way that you can.
   

• It is really hard to imagine new things when you feel like you're writing your way off a cliff. Take a few days to recapture your perspective. Why did you start this story in the first place? What was it that you loved about it? Go for a long walk, and just think about the good parts of your story. Find a way to get back to the heart of what you're writing: take the time to do that.
   

• A lot of what we call "writer's block" is really a huge detour sign. It's the part of the creative process that says, "You can't get there from here. You can't go that way." This is a really good thing. See it as a chance to look at all your options. Have you gone off a better, original track? Or are you a slave to your original vision, while your story wants to try a different way? Freewrite. Do a lot of freewriting. Give yourself a week to explore other ideas, other angles. Run down all the other paths for a while. Keep your grip light. When something you jot down gets you excited, keep going!
   

• Perfectionism is writer's block's BFF. They show up together. You have to kill perfectionism. Really. Be merciless. Drafting is about making messes, making mistakes, and doing the wrong thing. You're going to have to redefine success. Success is: another day with words in it. Accept that your novel will not get better in a straight line. In fact, give yourself permission to totally screw it up. Write that down on paper, and sign it. Post it by your desk. I'm serious. I have to do this all the time to keep going.

The Large Blocks

What it feels like: A large block is a total inability to deal with words. (Sometimes accompanying a total inability to get up in the morning.)

I've hit this kind of block three times in my writing life. And each time, something else in my life had gone very wrong. So a large block might come calling if you're in a season of pain, depression, or a huge life transition.

What that might mean:

• I'm in a state of total exhaustion.

• Words are broken. I have zero faith in writing, zero confidence in my ability to write.

• I can't write. I have nothing to say.

What you can do about it:

• Let yourself off the hook. With everything. Take all productivity demands off the table. Put all projects on hold. This is serious: seek physical and emotional health more than any writing goal. Sleep. Sleep a lot. Binge on Doctor Who for hours (or some such thing). Do the gentlest, kindest things for yourself. Other professions let people have sick days, right? Take care of the writer; don't worry about words for a while.
   

• If you've been hurt by someone (if your words have been taken and twisted and used against you), it can be really hard to put pen to paper. Really, really hard. I've found my way back to words through reading Billy Collins's beautiful poems. They're simple, charming, and moving. They got me believing again in the power of a few well-placed words.
   

• In moments of huge transition, it can happen that you lose a sense of who you are. I once fell very suddenly and (it seemed) irrevocably out of love with writing. Ready to walk away, for good. So I did stop writing. Instead, I read. For two months. And then, out of the blue (it seemed), I had a new novel idea that was so precious it took my breath away. If you can read a whole bunch, I'd say just do that. Read yourself silly. Give it time. Don't force yourself to make any decisions about your writing future: just give yourself a lot of words to read. And wait to see what happens.

Dealing with blocks. You have to be your own doctor, to an extent. Diagnose yourself; discover what works for you.

If you're in this writing game for the long haul, you'll be doing this from time to time. So it's a good skill to have: you're learning to listen to your life, to look for signs of growth, signs of trouble. Keep practicing--you'll get better at it.

And you'll find your own best ways around the obstacles you hit. For me, the way around even the worst of blocks boils down to this:

Let yourself play. Stay curious. Seek health. Surround yourself with words. And give it time.

---

Do you have any anti-block strategies to share? Writer's block stories? Let's keep encouraging each other! 

Wanna keep reading? Check out: Beating the Writer's Paradox and How to Keep Going.

My Super Grown-up Anti-Fear Technique

Sometimes I fight fear by being louder than it is. By snarling back. By singing fight songs and shouting rah-rah-rah and doing a few high kicks. Sometimes that's what works.

But sometimes, when fear throws itself at me, I duck.

A few years ago, I was ready to walk away from writing. I'd tried, I'd failed (or so I thought). I wouldn't miss writing, and writing wouldn't miss me.

And in the midst of my certainty that I was done-done-done... I got this beautiful novel idea.

A middle-grade fantasy meets magical realism meets historical meets I'm still not very sure what.

I fell completely in love with this story. 

But for some reason, every time I worked on the draft, I panicked.

I got all skittish. Twitchy. I found myself backing away from the desk. 

Something about this project ignites all kinds of fear for me. And I'm still not 100% sure why. 

Maybe because it's full of the things I care most about: moments of beautiful truth, light versus dark, what it means to be a family, and finally a bunch of outcasts fighting for the sake of a city (which seems to be what I write about, time and time again). 

It's quirky, funny, very dark, very bright. It haunts me.

I was terrified to write it.

After a few weeks of "writing"--which was really me wandering around and doing anything but write--I figured out what to do.

I didn't get serious about making progress no matter how I felt. I didn't post motivational quotes all over my work space. I didn't make a big show of cheering myself on.

I went to bed.

I glanced over at my desk, over at fear, and I said, "oh, don't mind me." I dragged my papers over to my bed, arranging all my reference material. Off-handedly. Casually.

This isn't a big deal, I told myself. Probably I'm just going to nap. 

But I didn't. I snuggled under those covers, I turned my bed into a writing cave, and I wrote that story. 

I coaxed myself forward, one page at a time, one paragraph at a time. "I will just write this next sentence," I'd say. "And isn't it nice and cozy in here?"

Fear was still nosing around at my computer, so I just stayed in bed. I stayed in the place where I felt like I was whispering my story, like I was telling secrets. I ate cookies. I said, "We'll just see what comes next."

And that's how I got the draft done.

Ducking fear every step of the way.

I know that I tend to take the opposite route. After all, fear bullies us around plenty. I like bullying back, when I can.

But some manuscripts are too fragile for shouting.

When things are hard--when they are really hard, when it's storming inside--here's what you do. 

Be ridiculously nice to yourself. Do outrageously kind things for you and your writing life. 

Do whatever it is that makes a safe zone around you. Tell yourself whatever it is that you need to keep you safe. 

What would that look like for you? Light some candles. Crawl under your coziest blankets. Buy yourself a few armloads of fresh flowers and put them all over your office.

Maybe you surround yourself with photographs of everyone who believes in you. Or maybe you eat all the chocolate, or maybe all the cheese. (And then have some carrots with dinner, okay, because health and stuff.)

Create a safe place. Tell yourself it's okay. And believe it, when you say it.

And from that safe place, with the blankets around you and the candles lit and the good music on:

From that place, you write. 

---

Wanna keep reading? Check out Go and Be the Adventurer You Are and 3 Fears that Stop Us from Beginning Something Good.

The Case for the Really Long Read

Usually, my game plan for my reading life is simply this: To read more good books. 

Chuck the dull ones. Soak up the good ones. Learn from all of them.

Usually this means that I am trying to cram books into my life: more books, better books, and reading them faster.

But once a year, I slow the pace of my reading plan. Once a year, I block off a month. 

And plunge into a single, long book.

I started this habit several years ago, after reading the article "Is Google Making Us Stupid?" In it, Nicholas Carr investigates how our Internet habits are affecting the way we think, read, and process information.

He quotes Bruce Friedman (who sounds plenty smart himself), who says: "I can't read War and Peace anymore. ... I've lost the ability to do that. Even a blog post of more than three or four paragraphs is too much to absorb. I skim it."

Okay. That terrified me. (Although, if you didn't make it past my fourth paragraph, I guess you'll never know that.)

Most of the books I read are between 250 and 400 pages. And since I try to keep books moving through my hands, I never took the time to dive into one that was, say, 900 pages or so.

But that article made me think. There are so many fantastic yet huge books out there. And I wasn't reading them. 

Would I lose the ability to read long books?

(Just thinking that makes me start hyperventilating. Like my brain is disappearing. Ack! Ack!)

I made a decision to start.

I began with the massive (and beautifully translated) Les Miserables. I blocked off a month. I made a little chart of how many pages to read on which days. (Because I cannot resist a little chart.)

And I dove in.

Yes, I did get a little restless. Yes, I was reading a hefty chunk each day.

But I also fell in love with Victor Hugo. I loved how the world of his book wrapped itself around me. I loved how deeply I could fall into the story, how well I could know the characters--so many characters!

After that month, I made a list. I rounded up the names of other long books. The ones that usually got bumped from my reading list, because they were just too dang long.

I've spent a month each year ticking one more title off the list. The Three Musketeers and Moby-Dick, The Pickwick Papers and Anna Karenina. 

Every novel contains a bit of the world inside it.

These long novels have much bigger worlds.

And on the rainy days, the days when you want to crawl into a reading cave and just disappear for a while, consider curling up with a super long book. Let it swallow you up for a while.

Let it pull you toward a deeper writing practice. A deeper love of books. And a bigger appetite for language.

What's your favorite heavy-weight title? What's your most recent long read?

---

Want to keep reading? Check out This Is What Happened to Us When a Story Showed Up and Danger and Daring.

3 Ways to Build Your Story When You Just Don't Wanna

There are days when you find that you're just sick of words.

Maybe you're exhausted. Maybe you've been thinking too darn much, and your story is in danger of going all crooked and stale on you. 

You know you need to jazz up your creativity a bit, but . . . ugh.

Can't -- muster -- the -- energy.

Hey, it happens. And when that mix of moods hits me, I fall back on three ways to keep exploring my stories.

What's so great about these? Well, they're totally bottom shelf. Super easy, no strain, no muss, no fuss.

You can do them when you're pretty darn tired, you can do them when you can't put two words together, you can do them when you don't want the hard mental work of actual writing. 

These are for the too-busy-to-write days, the bored days, the cranky days, the I'd-rather-nap days. The rainy days.

Bonus: They're totally fun. It's like fingerpainting for your soul. Okay? Let's dive in.

1. Hit Pinterest hard for some visual inspiration.

If you haven't tried this yet, now is totally the time for you to explore Pinterest as a writer.

Yes, Pinterest is the place to get enough ideas to stress yourself out over every birthday party for the rest of your life. And Pinterest can help you get to a state of serious discontent over your interior design skills (or fashion, or crafting, or whatever). 

But you will also stumble across a zillion amazing illustrations. Concept art. Photographs. Links to articles about crazy settings that just have to make it into your novel.

I've never heard another writer confess this, so I might be the only one, but: I am total crap at imagining faces.

Can't do it. I get very vague impressions about hair, and maybe height, and physical gestures. As far as actual details, as far as all the things those character exercises in books want you to list? I can't imagine them. And it feels forced to just randomly say, uhhhh, she's blonde, and um, blue eyes? Maybe brown? Oh I don't know. 

It hasn't worked for me. Those details don't seem to stick.

But here's what has worked: browsing illustrations and photography on Pinterest.

I love seeing the amazing character illustrations, wading through them by the dozen, and pinning bunches of possibilities to a secret board devoted to my work-in-progress. It helps me figure out the mood I'm going for, the range of possibilities for each character.

I'll browse concept art for some weird location ideas, portrait photography for more true-to-life character ideas.

Or I'll do a more specific search: like today, scanning photos of creepy forests. (And not getting spooked one bit. Or wait. Maybe I did.)

This is the easiest exercise on the list. You can do it if you only have the energy to keep your eyelids half-open and drool, so if it's a rough day, go for it!

It's amazing what happens when I see a face that rings just right for a character. Suddenly the character in my mind takes on more shape. She feels more certain, more definite. Now I know her physical specifics, all the details that I need to describe her well.

And when I'm ready to sit down and write, her voice is that much clearer. 

2. Match music to your characters.

I started doing this exercise over ten years ago, as a game.

A couple of friends and I were studying Shakespeare for a semester. As it came close to finals time, we were pretty well steeped in the nine plays we'd read. We knew our stuff. 

And I had this CD. It wasn't the kind of CD that made you think: Aha, Shakespeare, forsooth!

(All right, all right, it was Linkin Park. But it was a long time ago, and I was maybe a little angry sometimes, and also my tastes have changed. No judging. Thank you.)

Here's what we did: For each song, my friends and I listened carefully to the words, and then we assigned it to a character from one of the plays.

Yes, really. This one was Hamlet, and that one was totally Ophelia. And this other one had to be Antonio from Twelfth Night. We even had one for Banquo's Ghost in Macbeth. 

Obviously, some of the songs were a bit of a stretch. (A lot of a stretch.) We made our case for each one, arguing on the basis of a few strong lines, or the general idea behind the chorus. 

But it got you thinking: how might the rest of the lines fit the character?

Was there a plot line in the play that might be stretched a bit, to make those lines fit? Or maybe the character's motivation in the play was totally different from what we'd been thinking...

Maybe Iago had a softer side? And maybe Leontes in The Winter's Tale had been poisoned? The more we listened to "his" song, the more we were sure of it.

You see where this is going, right? 

Here's how I still use this one: I'll put on Spotify Radio or Pandora. And I assign every song I hear to a character in the story. And I pick a point in the story where it fits them.

I love this exercise, because it's still pretty low-impact. You can do it while you're doing dishes, or going for a run, or driving. You're just listening to music, and thinking vaguely about your story. No big deal. 

But you'll find yourself wondering about emotional aspects of your story. You'll start thinking differently about character motivation, about their backstories. 

Lines from the song will jump out, and at first you'll think, "Nah, that doesn't fit them..." And then it will hit you. Of course it fits them! And actually, that answers your questions about what should happen right after the plot midpoint... 

Don't be surprised if you find yourself scribbling notes. Don't be surprised if you actually start getting excited. I won't tell anyone.

Best of all? After doing this exercise, the next time you hear that song, you start thinking of your story.

Which means: your story is more alive for you.

And if you're accomplishing that on a dreary day--well! Good for you.

3. Binge on movie trailers: have a story element feast.

Okay, again this one might be just a me thing, but it's one of my absolute favorite ways to build my story.

I have a movie trailer festival. (Right? Sooooo hard, but someone must, I suppose! And because I love trailers to a ridiculous degree, this exercise really kills me. But anyway.)

I watch a whole bunch of movie trailers. (IMDb is super for this.) They don't have to be anything like the story I'm working on. A wide variety is great.

Why do I love trailers so? They're presenting the hook of the story, the premise in miniature.

The whole point of a trailer is to get you ready to pay to see that story. To experience whatever they've described.

Which means: they're putting in some of the high points, they're peeling back the cover on the conflict, they're showing off their special effects. If possible, they even make you love the main characters. They make you curious.

What does this mean for you, writer?

It means that you're feasting your eyes and ears on key story moments. The emotional highs, huge effects, witty dialogue, cliffhangers, possible revelations, anxious character moments, conflict so sharp it skewers, and about seventy explosion sequences... 

Okay, so you've done all that? Eyes feeling a little buggy? Getting the story lines confused a bit? Perfect.

Now close your eyes, and dream up the trailer for your story.

It doesn't matter if your novel isn't done. It doesn't matter if there are huge gaps.

It doesn't matter if your novel doesn't feel at all exciting. It doesn't matter if your characters feel lifeless.

Think about a darkened theater. Think about how you feel, when you're craving an amazing story.

And then let the trailer write itself, on the screen of your closed eyelids. Bring in the scary music. Let things happen in slow-motion... or super fast.

Let your characters talk. Let their dialogue feel heavy, important. Let them talk like they're both going to be nominated for an Oscar.

Crank up the volume on conflict: let the characters start running through rubble. Blow some stuff up. Even if you didn't think you were writing a blowing-up kind of book. (Hey, you're just messing around, right? Splash a bit! Have some fun.)

Maybe this one will take some practice, but it can be the most rewarding of them all.

Why? I think because you'll find that you start believing in your story a bit more. You'll want to add more big moments. Because it will start catching at your heart, like the best movies, the best trailers. Because it will make you lean forward a bit.

You just might give yourself chills.

And even if there's a ton of work still to do on your novel (and when isn't there?), you'll have a renewed belief in the power behind the story. And you'll be writing toward that power--and not just to check list items off a sheet.

And that is the sweetest feeling of all.

I hope you'll try these exercises, friend. They've saved my bacon again and again, pulling my heart back toward my stories, back toward my characters.

I hope you start seeing your characters walking around, and that your settings come alive. I hope you start compiling a playlist of songs that are perfect your novel. And I hope you start dreaming up movie trailers.

And when you're back at your desk, you can channel all that new imagery, all that new dreaming into a living, breathing, heart-grabbing novel. 

---

If you want to keep reading, check out: Let's Go Get Our Inspiration and The Side Effects (to Writing Hard).

Go ahead and lose your pajamas.

One of the most powerful tools in your writing life arsenal is this: Simple belief in forward motion.

Right? Overly loud confidence is too easily deflated; zero confidence means you never make it to the desk in the first place.

Confidence in your writing abilities and a bright future: that can be shot down in an instant. (Says the girl who is wading through a difficult draft today...)

But belief in forward motion, belief in getting today's work done, belief in taking the next step--that all holds true. Whether you feel like a genius or, um, distinctly un-clever.

And this is why I've stopped writing in my pajamas. 

It's one of those things you hear about in writing circles (or really, among anyone who has the privilege of working from home):

"And I did all this work while wearing my pajamas!" "I was wearing my bunny slippers while writing that incredible scene." 

To that I say: That's great. Really, that's nice. 

But that has stopped working for me.

Here's what I realized: I feel a lot less able to take over the world with my story when I'm lolling around in overstretched yoga pants. 

All those days writing in pajamas, or writing in lousy old clothes... I noticed this surreptitious discouragement creeping in.

It was slight. I thought it was just a general "I can't do this" malaise.

But then the people I live with get dressed for work and go out into the real world. And I'd sit at my desk typing away in my pjs, feeling sluggish, looking sluggish, and wondering why I felt so unmotivated.

If anyone came to the door, I felt apologetic about my sloppy appearance. Tempted to hide.

And then I'd go back to my desk, trying to write difficult scenes, trying to bring my best mental game to my work, and it hit me. It clicked.

I want to think like a professional. I want to write like a professional. And I don't want to apologize for what I do, or how I do it. Not to other people. Not to myself. I don't want my words to hide. Ever.

So maybe it was time for the rest of my writing life to look more professional. Less apologetic.

And I said goodbye to the sloppy work outfit.

Why give doubt any ground? A sartorial swap is a small price to pay for a bit more enthusiasm about my day's work.

Okay, don't worry: I'm not wearing a three-piece suit either. I didn't go overboard on this. I still keep it simple, I'm still very comfortable. (For the love of sentences, don't wear something hyper-restrictive when you're writing! Your words will come out sideways and cramped and buttoned too tight.)

I don't look like I'm ready for a photo shoot. But I don't look like I'm taking a sick day, either.

But for you--maybe it's not your clothes that whisper doubtful things to you. Maybe it's your surroundings. Desk drawers that don't shut right. Overflowing file folders. A fistful of pens that don't work. Shabby tools. 

Here's the thing, my lionhearted writing friend: Sometimes, you're surrounding yourself with things that tell you that you can't do this work. Things that say, you aren't professional. Or that this work isn't as important to you as it really really is.

Sometimes, what's around you is what's telling you that you can't. 

You're the boss. Fire the shabby.

Kick it right out of your office.

What little things could you change about where and how you work, that communicate a bit more belief in what you do?

Make those changes this week. Embrace a new work uniform. Clear out those drawers. 

It's one of those simple boosts that can help you move forward with more purpose. 

---

Wanna keep reading? Check out these posts about being scared of the right thing and saying who you are.

This Is Why You're Going to Paris This Weekend

Okay. So it's going to happen. You're going to have a writing day, week, month, uh, year, that's just going to stink. You'll do your best, but won't pull out of your funk. And your work goes all wobbly.

Either it all fails big, it blows up in your face, it gets dramatic and ugly and there are tears...

Or, it just whimpers in a corner, and your imagination dulls, and the words stale off, and you kind of wonder how you ever got into this.

Here's my best recommendation: Go to Paris.

Like, today. 

An actual plane ticket is the best route, and if you can muster that, then go and God bless you.

For all us normal people, with tiny budgets and not super flexible schedules, here's the other route:

Get your discouraged little hands on this book.

A Writer's Paris, by Eric Maisel. And yes, you are allowed to swoon over the cover. It is a totally normal reaction.

Why this book?

Because Eric Maisel is exactly the writing coach that you need this weekend: He is definitely on your side.

And in this book, he understands what's going on in the mind and heart of a writer who is discouraged. A writer who is afraid and anxious.

Most of all, a writer who needs to commit to her work in a deeper way.

(That's you. That's me. That's all of us.)

So yes, this book is also about going to Paris. For, say, a year. And writing while you're there. Writing your brains out. But more than that, it's about owning your writerness, about choosing to be the writer that you are.

The chapters are short, easy to read, and packed with encouragement. Seriously, it believes in you so hard that it nearly turns inside out. (Or was that just my copy?) 

But you're reading this because you're discouraged, right? So maybe you don't feel like you can stomach talking about writing all the time. Maybe another writing book isn't what you need? 

That's why this book is so perfect: it's part writing encourager, part Paris travelogue.

Really. So you'll be daydreaming about the Seine, about gargoyles and gothic chapels, about flaky croissants and famous museums. You'll be reading little stories about Van Gogh and Hemingway, you'll be thinking about the expats in Paris, you'll be smiling over the wonderful illustrations.

So you soak up the stories about Paris. ... And as you do, you also read about embracing your own imperfection. About how to get out of a writing slump. (I've read Chapter 25, "Not Writing," approximately 200 times.) You read about motivation, about what to do with the wonderful people who support you and the difficult people who do not.

You read about where our ideas come from, about writing in public places, about running away from your work, about how to deal with discouragement. 

... I am resisting the urge to type out whole pages (21, 128, 190...) and instead will share this one quote:

There are always reasons not to write. They appear as wantonly as toadstools after the rain. Entertaining those reasons even for a split second is the path to uncreativity. Write, even if you have a twinge, a doubt, a fear, a block, a noisy neighbor, a sick cat, thirteen unpublished stories, and a painful boil. Write, even if you aren't sure. 
-- Eric Maisel

Breathe that quote in for a second. So good, right? 

If you have varsity-level discouragement, then I'd say go big. Get this book, and dive in. But don't stop there. 

Get yourself a baguette, a pack of croissants, or at the very least an éclair or some kind of pastry. (Because discouragement and calories are best friends.) Get some French-style café music playing. Grab your coffee (strong! dark! with chocolate!).

See where we're going with this? Make yourself Paris. Right where you are.

Whip up an omelette Saturday morning and keep on reading.

Invite courage in. Wrap it around you, like a warm blanket on a rainy day.

Close out your Parisian weekend by watching Midnight in Paris. (What, you thought I wasn't going to go there? I was totally going to go there! I can't get over Ernest Hemingway in that movie. CANNOT get over him. I just want listen to him talk about writing all day.) 

Have yourself a Parisian writing weekend. And dive into your next writing week refreshed--and still nibbling croissants and humming along to Edith Piaf--and ready to work.

---

Wanna read more about Eric Maisel? Check out these two posts, inspired by quotes from A Writer's Paris: Write Where You Are and Today Is Another Chance. 

Writing Is Not All You Do

When I began writing, I dove straight in. Deep into a big pile of words.

You've probably figured out by now, I tend to have an all-or-nothing mentality. Also, I was scared. I was so scared that this writing gig wouldn't work.

So I hyperscheduled myself: all writing and words, all the time! Relax by reading! Pull apart movie storylines! I will be a fiction-maker extraordinaire! I will breathe out stories!!

This isn't a super-sustainable way to stay a writer.

Your life has to be about more than words.

Is that a horrible, sacrilegious thing to say on a writing blog?? Does it feel like an April Fools trick? But oh, it's so true.

When all I do is writing, a very scary mindset creeps in: 

Writing becomes my everything.

And then, when writing stops going well--because it will stop now and then, it will stump me completely sometimes, I will pull my hair out, it's all part of the contract--

When writing stops going well, everything stops going well.

And suddenly I'm on a really ugly road. 

If I want to keep getting out of bed in the morning, I need my life to be about more than just writing.

Bonus: my writing gets a lot better when I have a few non-verbal pursuits mixed in.

(Something about actually living... you get better at working with imagery and stuff. New metaphors at your disposal. Characters that don't sound just like you. Funny how that works.)

For a while, I unwound by playing piano, focusing on sounds and timing instead of words. Then I fell in love with knitting: Hats! Colors! Techniques! Textures!

But then I realized that it was a lot better for my speedy little typing fingers to have a hobby that didn't require quite so much finger movement. (Ouch.)

So lately, I've settled on cooking. (If you check out my Instagram account, you can usually see a string of food pictures. I have to remind myself that I'm not actually a food blogger, whoops!)

Hey, I love to eat really good food. And cooking is one of those rare pursuits that requires all five of your senses and then some. (Do we want to get me started on how much I love cooking? Not today. You'd be reading this post forever.) 

So I kick myself away from my desk by 4:30 at the latest, and I start nosing around in the kitchen. Chopping veggies, sautéing garlic, sniffing spices.

I let the word-sifting part of my brain go blank, and guess what happens. My subconscious mind, or my imagination, or whatever you want to call it... It shows up.

It sits on the counter next to me, swinging its legs and blinking at my impressive chopping skills. And now and then, it hands me a line of dialogue. Or it unties a little plot knot I'd been stuck on. "Hey, look at that," it says, placing it on my chopping board.

This is why some of my writing notes smell like garlic, but whatever. I'm good with that.

What about you? Have you got this balance thing down pat, or are you looking for a good hobby? What great non-writing hobbies have you cultivated?

Whatever pursuit you choose: it's about being creative with something other than words. It's about cultivating more in yourself than just writing.

Above all, don't let writing become your everything. Just don't. You'll be so much happier.

---

Wanna keep reading? Check out these posts: Let's Stop Comparing and It Wasn't About Being Productive.

What Writers Do When It Rains

I can't believe that tomorrow is already April. I mean . . . APRIL. The weather lately can't figure out if it wants to be cold and snowy, or--like today--warm and birdsongy and fresh.

And as it makes up its mind, I'm guessing we'll have a lot of rain. (Because you knew I was about to say April showers, didn't you?)

What do you do with the rain, lionheart?

My roommates in college deeply despised the rain. Any gray day was hailed with a groan and snarls.

... I was the weirdo who lit up at the sound of rain on the roof. I'd drag out an afghan or two, light candles, and snug into the sofa with a book. 

I usually feel rain like a relief. A let-up from the expectations of sunshine. Sunny days feel so demanding. Take advantage of me! Be productive! No excuses!

But rain--rain is a much-needed break. Like letting your face relax after grinning for too many photos.

Okay, okay. I'm not a total duck. I've resented the rain too. Usually when my jeans are soaked to the knee, my feet no longer reporting any sensation, and my nose dripping.

When I have to be out in it all day, when I can't seem to warm up, or when I already felt depressed thank-you-very-much... Those days, I don't welcome thick clouds and rain spatter and puddles. 

This month on the blog, we're going to be talking about what we do in the face of rain. Metaphorical rain, if you'll go there with me. Rain as a way to retreat.

Either retreating to seek refreshment--permission to have a different kind of day. Or, retreating from an assault, from thunderstorms and hail, from cold feet and worms writhing on the sidewalk.

How do we handle the changes in routine, the slumpy days, the gloomy moods? How do we handle storms that threaten our writing life--like, dare I say it, writer's block?

Retreats. Retreating in the face of rain. That's what we're talking about this April.

Oh, and if that somehow seems un-lionhearted, let me just say: It's not a lack of bravery, this pulling in. Sometimes the most courageous thing you can do is decide to rest. To make the time and space to take care of yourself.

And then other times, yup, we pull on our writing galoshes and go out into the storm, and face it. And maybe even write some stuff down.

So, here we come, April. We'll figure out exactly what to do with you.

Bring on the rain.

How to Talk about Your Writing (Without Throwing Up)

So you've done the hard work of beginning a writing practice. You're chugging along with some good ideas, forming strong writing habits, and cultivating a pleasant outlook.

Maybe things are going okay. And then someone says, "So... you're a writer? What are you working on?"

And, if you're like me, those simple words can be slightly terrifying.

When I started writing full-time, I responded very earnestly to questions about my work. I described where I was with my current draft, maybe sketched out a little of the plot, and--heaven help us--how I felt about it all. 

My goal in these situations was: to be honest, to try and sound like my work was legitimate, and to not throw up on their shoes out of pure nervousness.

It didn't always go well.

And here's what I've found out: The reason behind talking about my writing was all wrong. Way off.

It's good to be honest. It's good to not barf on someone's shoes. Very healthy goals. Nice job, Lucy.

But that middle one--did you notice that? Answering the "what are you writing" question in a way that would make me feel all warm and special and like my work is valuable... that NEVER went well. 

Never. You have to believe me on this.

Give up justifying yourself to people who ask about your work.

When you're talking about your writing, you'll find you have three types of listeners.

• Category One: The nice people--friends or benevolent strangers. They tend to say helpful and encouraging things. 

• Category Two: And then, the jerks. These are the ones who say things that make you feel like you've been chewed up and spit out. 

• Category Three: These are the people who don't fit neatly into either category. Usually, they mean well (in a vague kind of way), but also manage to convey some serious doubts about the validity of what you're working on.

And if you go into these conversations needing them to crown you as a valid writer, as someone who is genuinely working hard, who has justified her place in the universe--

Then you can get into trouble, no matter who you're talking to.

Category One is obviously the nicest. But if I am fishing around for a certain kind of reaction, it's really easy for me to talk too much. Either I'm venting all my insecurities (NEVER a good move), or I'm spilling my guts about my story.

If all I do is hash out my writerly anxiety, no amount of their saying "No, you're a great writer!" is gonna stick.

And if I talk too much about my actual story, a really strange thing happens: When I arrive at my desk the next day, my characters are seriously unhappy with me. 

They cross their arms and say, "Why, why, did you tell all our secrets out in the open?" You might not believe me, but I promise: the work does not go well when I overtalk my plot.

Category Two: SO MUCH FUN. (Kidding.)

If you need someone else to validate you, and then open your mouth only to find out that you're talking to a total Anti-Writing Jerk...

Oh. It's just not going to go well. 

It is shocking what people will say. The best reaction I ever got from a Category Two was the woman who told me that she would evict her daughter if she ever did what I was doing. 

(And yes, it was very clear that I was talking about WRITING, and not, say, prostitution.)

It can be very, very hard to face your work after chatting with a jerk.

And then Category Three. The ones who essentially hope things go okay for you... but they also have very serious doubts about what you're doing. And why. And how successful you'll ever be. And basically...

Well, basically they doubt everything.

I have the most trouble with this reaction. Maybe because it's more common than overt jerk-ness, but also because it's too close to my fears about writing.

That I'll never make any money from it. That it isn't a "serious" career (whatever that is). That it is a waste of whatever intelligence I have.

And this is the person I find myself having inner arguments with, whenever I sit down at my desk. The kind of people I try to explain myself to, rising to the challenge of their strained "oh--how nice." 

Justifying why I write. What I write about. How I work. 

It's never a good route.

So I changed my goal.

I've had way too many crappy conversations about what I do. (Seriously. SO MANY.) 

And I've talked to too many honestly nice people, who have nevertheless sucked all the writing energy out of me and left me spinning. (Again: So many times.)

Finally, finally, I've wised up. I changed my goal.

It's not super complicated. My real, main, underlying goal, in any conversation about my work, is this: To be able to write the next day.

To be able to sit down at my desk after having this conversation about what I do, and to do my work.

No drama. No arguments. No wheedling. No justifying. No seeking validation.

I'm a writer. Writers write.

I don't need to find anyone who can give me that title. It doesn't exist somewhere outside of myself. No one hands out "Oh, FINALLY you're a writer now!" certificates. 

I've decided: this is a valid career. This is the thing I'm doing with my life.

Regardless of making absolutely zero money with it, for a long time now. Regardless of how it turns out.

Whether other people think it's worth my time, or whether they very plainly don't.

When you know this--when you know it down to your toes--then these conversations about your work just don't have that kind of power over you anymore.  They don't tie your stomach in knots and then leave you eviscerated.

Which means: You're free to do your work.

You can talk to your friends without sharing too much, without writhing in insecurity. You can be honest and concise, without ticking off your characters.

You can look at the jerks with sympathy. (My guess is, there is something in their lives that they didn't give themselves permission to do. And now they poop on everyone else's parade. Which is ultimately very sad. And it quite literally stinks to be them.) 

If you can't muster up sympathy for the jerks--or even if you can--you can write about them. Congrats, your novel just got a new character.

And the conflicted well-wishers, the kindly nay-sayers... Well, you can shrug them off too.

Your career isn't in their hands. Your ability to practice your writing until you're incredibly good, your time dreaming up characters and storylines... all of that is separate from them. It's only up to you.

So stay strong.

Look. It's gonna happen. You'll have some weird conversations about writing.

You're going to give too much information about your work to some people, and their reactions will haunt you. You'll blurt something out to a sneer-face, and be paralyzed for a week. Or you'll cheerily tell someone about your work, and their indifference or their constant questions will make you exhausted and doubtful.

But it comes down to this: You're a writer. You are facing a white page, a blank screen, and you're filling it with ideas. Words. Vision put to paper.

That is no small thing.

Actually, it's a big freaking deal.

And so there are going to be people out there that try to put the brakes on what you're up to. (Big deals tend to draw this sort of person out.)

Don't let them.

You have to decide, right here, right now, that you're a writer. 

You have to have the goal of writing. No matter what anyone says.

Because these aren't the only critics you'll face, right? So refuse to give anyone the power to stop you from working.

You're a writer. An explorer. You're diving into the unknown, again and again.

You actually do have the guts to do this. Don't let anyone's reactions convince you otherwise.

---

Wanna keep reading? Check out these posts: Voice Your Astonishment and The End of Excuses.