When You Absolutely Can't Keep Writing, Try This

And then. The day comes when your brain feels as lively and full of words as a rubber pancake. 

And you hear yourself saying the dreaded words: "I think I've hit a wall."

What do you do? When your eyes are buggy, your fingertips numb, and your grip on the language isn't exactly a grip?

What do you do when you can't keep writing, but there's too dang much of the draft still to go?

You throw out every single standard or expectation for this draft that you're still holding on to.

ALL of 'em.

(Don't panic. You can bring your standards back when things are moving again. But for now, you just don't need them. For now, the goal is: Unstick this word machine and get it back on track!)

Here are four tricks I use to lower the bar, shake up the draft, and get my story moving again.

1. Forget about paragraphs: Start writing in list form.

What?! Like, with bullet points?

Yes! Certainly! Why not?! 

If your story is stuck, and you have no idea what should happen next, list the possibilities.

Right there in the draft. Yes, really! 

And let your characters talk back to you about each one. Conduct a little story interview.

Explore the different options: not by thinking about them, but by writing. 

Write down what you love about the different options. Write down what draws you deeper. And when a possibility makes your heart beat a little faster, start writing your draft in that direction.

2. Don't worry about writing actual sentences either.

Judy Reeves writes about the power of creating a run-on sentence: every time you'd naturally write a period, try putting a comma, and then keep on pushing.

She says, "Follow the last word with another specific image that takes the writing further, then do it again and again." 

When I first heard that, I thought, Yeah, right, whatever.

Then I tried it, and whoa: She's totally right. It unlocks doors. And it helps me feel more like an explorer-writer, and less like a this-has-to-be-done-CORRECTLY writer.

Which is really good news for getting past walls in the draft.

3. When your story's really on the rocks, talk to yourself.

Last year, I hit an absolute wall in my manuscript. Half the characters were stranded in a farmhouse, with unknown and undefined villainy pressing in around them, but they didn't have any kind of game plan... and neither did I

I was so stuck. After a LONG time of staring at my notebook, I switched tactics: I started talking to myself about the story... in narrative form. 

I started scribbling like this: "Okay, Lucy, so they're all at the farmhouse waiting, but who wants to just watch characters wait? So what SHOULD they be doing? Is anyone getting ready for the climax? Because they totally should be. Okay. Which characters are really involved in this section, and what skills do they have? What are they worried about? Is there some narrative something I haven't cashed in yet? A subplot that hasn't gotten its due in a while? How's Claire doing? What about that one guy--we haven't heard from him in a while. Maybe I should explore... "

I know. It doesn't make for exciting reading. But I kept on writing like that. Letting my pen keep moving, asking myself questions, searching for what should happen next.

And guess what. After quite a few pages of rambling, I found it. 

I wrote my way out of that problem, and back on track. 

(Yes, some very strict people might argue that this isn't actual WRITING on my actual STORY and should therefore NOT COUNT... but let's all check our writing-a-first-draft guidebooks, shall we? It isn't about being strict.

When I revise, I'll be able to consider all the possible ways of filling that narrative hole: All my talking to myself is a giant placeholder. A placeholder studded with actual ideas.

And since my goal was finish the draft and not solve this plot dilemma right now and perfectly, this solution totally worked.) 

4. Switch your writing medium.

If you've been writing on a computer, try writing by hand. (I did all of last year's Nanowrimo by hand! I promise it can be done!) 

If you're already writing longhand, try swapping your notebook for a stack of index cards. Or even little sticky notes.

It's easier to look at a small piece of paper and say: "Okay, so what might happen next?" And even a very tired brain might roll its eyes, and say, "Well, sure, I can write THAT much."

Whichever method you try, remember this: The point of a rough draft (especially a Nanowrimo draft) is to GET SOMETHING DOWN ON PAPER.

You're getting the idea down. You're exploring possibilities. 

It is supposed to be rough. The edges are meant to be jagged and frayed. There are supposed to be plenty of holes! 

So when you feel like you can't keep going, do a quick expectations check. Figure out which standards you're still clinging to, and drop 'em! 

Don't just accept imperfection: rush out and find it! Give it a huge hug! Because it's your best friend when the writing is hard.

You can fix the holes later, I promise. And it's so much easier to fill holes in a finished draft.

Resuscitating a permanently-stalled one, on the other hand, is brutal.

Write messy. Write muddy. Fall down a lot. And keep on writing.

Your Novel Versus the World

If you're doing Nanowrimo this month, you're about halfway there. (In terms of time, at least. Draftwise... that might look a little different.)

And halfway through a drafting marathon, you might feel a bit of an energy shift. 

All the excitement of starting something... it might have fizzled out a bit. And you're left with the work itself.

Maybe you sense the drag, the friction, the gravity. The flow of ideas might be slackening.

And yet... You might also be in a weird dreamy state as your draft grows. The non-writing parts of your day might feel a bit detached. You might hear yourself saying things that don't make sense.

You might be getting a little word-drunk is what I'm saying. (Kind of exhilarating, isn't it!)

But at the same time, you might be looking at your stock of energy, your reserves, and wonder how you'll keep going at this pace.

I totally hear you. That's exactly how I feel mid-draft.

This is the point in the game when I start throwing non-writing commitments overboard. I look suspiciously at anything that sucks energy away from the work.

You gotta lighten the load.

Grab a few minutes, and list everything that you've got going on in your life, from now until the end of the draft. (In Nano terms, that's at 11:59 p.m., November 30.)

What are your commitments, your obligations, your appointments? Write 'em all down.

Then, what are the other things you're doing every day? Stuff like: Laundry (if you're still doing that), showers (if they haven't become totally optional), food consumption, and those Lucy-Flint-made-me-do-it dance parties.

Okay, here's the tricky part. 

What three things require the most energy from you, while giving you the least renewed energy in return? 

What's taking more than it's giving back: that's my question. 

Try to push yourself to circle three things. If you can't find three, at least find one. 

And then get rid of it. Be done with it. Say, "Thanks, sorry, but I can't." 

At least until Nanowrimo is over.

Some commitments can't be shaken, so if you can't totally get rid of it, how can you still lighten the load?

Is there a way to protect your energy? To pull back slightly, even if you still have to do it? Ways to delegate, ways to do only part?

Can you arrive late, can you leave early, can you not bring the dessert this time?

What would it look like if this didn't totally drain you?

If this whole question is hard, I totally get it. I'm with you. I'm stepping back from some important things this month, to make room for more writing.

And whenever that makes me feel like I'm maybe a callous and terrible and unlikeable person, I remind myself of these three super-important truths:

1) No one can write your book except for you. No one.

Actually, let's repeat that (maybe out loud, and maybe standing on your tip toes, and yeah, you probably should shout it): No one can write my book except for me! 

So you need to get mama-bear defensive about your work sometimes. Okay? It's that important.

2) The work-in-progress takes WAY MORE mental energy and emotional energy than you can really explain to yourself (or to other people). 

Which means that, if you are drafting your brains out (and you are!), you need every bit of energy you can get.

Your hours away from the writing desk are still important. They're still part of the equation, because they still affect your total energy reserves.

Sometimes I'm tempted to be a superwoman during my non-writing hours. But whenever I try to dodge this rule, I can feel it. Big time. And the work suffers.

The book takes a lot of energy... even when you aren't actively writing it.

And so sometimes, for the sake of your beloved work-in-progress (which only you can write!!), you have to step back.

Which brings us to number three.

3) This is only for a season. 

It's not for forever. Heck, you've just got a couple of weeks left! It's nearly done.

If your choices are disappointing someone you care about, just remember this: You will be done with this draft soon.

Drafts don't last forever, and when you're finished, you'll need a little break. You can reinvest in those other parts of your life then, and everything will be just. fine. 

Really.

So take a little time today to make the hard call. Give yourself the gift of a bit more energy. 

And then watch your draft flourish.

Sound good?

My work-in-progress is definitely cheering. I think yours is too.

PS: Seriously, how's it going? How's the Nanowrimo life treating you? Feel free to give us all an update in the comments!! I'd love to hear about it!

My Favorite Writing Strategy: Take Super-Good Care of the Thing that Takes Care of the Writing

It's too easy for a writer to treat her body like an afterthought.

It's just the mass of bones and muscles that keep our writing brains from scrabbling around on the ground, right?

Our fingers are simply the instruments our brains use to reach the keyboard, and mouths were clearly made for just one thing: Coffee reception.

It's too easy to fall into that trap, but I have a suspicion: A ridiculously healthy body just might be a writer's best weapon.

It hit me recently how easy and typical it is for me and my friends to all categorize ourselves as "Busy and Tired."

Suddenly I wondered: What would happen if I were, instead, Focused and Deeply Rested? 

How clearly would I think if my body were at its best condition? 

What would happen if my wrists weren't on the brink of carpal tunnel syndrome? What if I wasn't putting my back in permanent danger, and what if I wasn't burning my retinas out by staring at a screen without blinking? 

Would I--shocking thought--actually be better able to do my job? 

Would I think more clearly, and have more interesting ideas, and have more attention for each project? Maybe, you know, be a better writer?  

I think it's pretty dang possible.

During a drafting marathon, it's SO easy to make your body suffer on behalf of your draft. But honestly, you might pay for it later.

I have a writing friend who totally fried her wrists in an attempt to meet an aggressive writing deadline... She ended up in physical therapy, and yeah, her writing had to sit on the back burner for a while. (Not to mention: OUCH.)

Can we maybe not make ourselves sick and broken in the pursuit of that 50,000th word? Can writing "The End" not kill us, please?

I know you're already keeping track of a lot. But maybe, consider loving your body a little during the remaining days of your drafting marathon. 

Here's a list of some teeny tiny little moves toward health. It won't ask much from you, but your body will be THRILLED ... and it just might reward you with that plot breakthrough you've been begging for! 

Give 'em a try:

• If you're writing longhand, try using markers instead of pens, because they slide over the page more easily. Good news for your wrists!
   

• Every fifty minutes, stand up from your desk for a five minute dance party. (Set a timer to remind yourself if need be!) Yes, you. Yes, really. Getting your blood moving around means more idea power, so get twirlin'!
   

• Better yet? Stand up every thirty minutes and just shake everything out! Or, if dancing isn't appealing, try these five simple yoga moves for a fantastic stretch. They always make me feel more awake!
   

• Protect your eyes by giving them a break too: look away from your screen for at least five minutes, every half hour. Go look out a window while you brainstorm your next paragraph. (I tend to get my best ideas away from the computer anyway!)
   

• Skip chocolate as a drafting snack (once in while, at least!), and fill up your bowl with celery sticks, carrots, red pepper slices, and hummus. (And grapes! And pomegranate arils! Go crazy!)
   

• Dare yourself to drink a big glass of water before you refill your coffee mug. (If you're really health-bonkers like me, grab a green juice now and then. Kale LOVES helping with your plot.)
   

• Can you stand and type? I plunk my keyboard on an upside-down trashcan and tip my screen up. Voilà! DIY standing desk! My brain feels instantly perkier.
   

• If you find you're always zoning out, give yourself a nap. Subconsciouses like to dance around while you're sleeping anyway: you might wake up to brilliance.
   

• And while we're talking about sleep: Send yourself to bed a half hour earlier: what you lose in drafting time, you'll regain in mental clarity. (This has worked SO well for me lately!)

It's not rocket science. None of this is shocking health news.

But I know that I need to forcibly remind myself, mid-draft, that my body doesn't just exist to write words down!

So here's my challenge to you: Try to do at least ONE THING each day that your body would genuinely thank you for. (No fibbing.)

And seriously, from one writer to another: Please don't burn out your body for the sake of your book. There are other ways to finish, which don't include totally trashing your self.

Sound good? 

Okay, my lionhearted friend... back to those words! My celery sticks salute you. 

Got a good health tip? ... Especially something easy to apply in the midst of drafting season? Do share in the comments!! I'm always up for feeling more awesome!

Think You Won't Make It To the Finish Line? Here's Why That's Totally Okay.

So this is a trick that Fear likes to play: It forces you to stare at your mountain of work--all at once--and then it declares:

Nope. You won't make it.

It says: You can't get there, you're not strong enough, and it's too much.

The thing that makes this so tough to fight is: It has a point.

It's technically accurate. 

You cannot get to the top of that mountain in one step. You can't finish a journey in just a few minutes. 

And you can't, in the exact same condition you started in, finish a drafting marathon. 

Not to sound goofy, but: The process has to change you--and will change you--into the person who can.

It's like a fitness challenge: you know those little challenges on Pinterest and such, where you to do 5 squats today, then 7 the next day, and then 10, then 13, and so on, all the way up to 50?

It builds the very muscles you'll need to finish. 

Isn't that great news? A bit unsettling, of course, because you don't have those muscles right this second (hence the room for Fear to show up). But you WILL. 

And that is the thing that Fear wants you to forget. 

So you don't need to focus on finishing right now. You don't need to think about five hundred steps from now, or even five steps from now.

You just need to think about the very next step.  

So break it down, until it's the smallest piece possible. Just the next 200 words. Or the next thirty minutes of drafting. 

And if that still feels daunting, go smaller. 100 words. Or just 50. Or 20.

The next two minutes of drafting.

You can totally handle two minutes.

That's all you need to do right now. I promise. That's all you need.

So if Fear shows up, set it to one side. It's telling you a fake truth anyway. Tell it to move over, get out of your way, it's blocking your view.

And then focus on that next tiny thing you need to do.

It's the one sure way to get to the finish line. 

Fifty Plot Twist Ideas for Your Work-In-Progress!

Hey there, lionhearts! I hope you find the following fifty plot twists fun and exciting and helpful. 

And if you want more where they came from... check out the new idea series I've just posted!

It's a nine-part series (I know, I know, I get carried away!) on EVERYTHING I know about generating tons of awesome ideas...

including the principles I used to create these fifty plot twists—which is far and away the most popular post on this site!

If you never want to run out of ideas,
you gotta check it out:

Here's the roundup of links: Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.

Hope you love it and find it super helpful! Okay, and now to the fifty plot twists...

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Has inspiration evaporated? Is your imagination flagging?

Does your plot feel a little ... limp?

No worries. I've got your back. Here are fifty (yes, FIFTY!) random ideas for plot twists. All ready to be adapted any which way, and popped into your beautiful work-in-progress.

Prepare to be re-energized...

In no order whatsoever, here they are. Fifty plot gems, at your disposal:

1. Someone important to the action is poisoned. 

2. Give a minor character an unshakeable faith in something that the main character doesn't believe in. How does this set them at odds?

3. A case of mistaken identity: Someone mistakes your main character for an important cultural icon, a known villain, a spy, or someone from their past. Shenanigans ensue... 

4. The place that your character was just traveling toward--whether it was the kitchen, the school, or another city--suddenly no longer exists.

5. Startling, direction-altering information is brought to your characters' attention by ... an animal.  

6. The next step for your main characters is revealed to one of them, with crystal clarity, in a dream. Only ... it turns out that the dream was wrong.

7. Your character is locked in a prison of some kind. The only way to get the key is by singing. 

8. Set an important scene in an art museum. One of the paintings or sculptures reminds your character of something important, long forgotten.

9. A rumor gathers momentum and ugliness. It soon divides your main character from her allies.

10. The only one they can trust right now is a con man.
     

11. A coin toss takes on tremendous importance. 

12. A character is suddenly inducted into a secret society. Will the other members of the society be the worst sort of antagonists, or unexpected allies?

13. It was the last thing they ever expected to find in the kitchen.

14. What character does your protagonist most revere? And what happens when she finds out that that character isn't all she thought?

15. An unexpected gift seems like a wonderful present at first. But it quickly becomes a source of damage, chaos, and grief.  

16. The only one who (grudgingly) agrees with your main character is his least favorite person. Now they'll have to work together.

17. Their next bit of insight, or their next clue, comes from an important historic figure.

18. Your characters have to escape into a garden... Which, it turns out, is full of something other than flowers and plants. 

19. There's a word no one should say. Or a name that no one will mention. A place nobody talks about. Or a proverb that no one repeats. ... Except for your main character, who totally goes for it.

20. Two characters fight over where they're each going to sit. It gets out of hand ... fast.
     

21. The next calm scene is interrupted by water: a flood, a leak, rain coming through the windows, an overflowing bathtub, a spilled teacup... 

22. Some part of your character's life, something she has taken for granted all this time, turns out to be a message for her, in code.

23. Someone from the character's past shows up out of the blue, intent on revenge.

24. No one's ever eavesdropped quite like this before... Your character is forced to stay in a painful or precarious position to hear what he desperately needs to know. 

25. Some part of your cast now has to rely on an unusual (for them, at least) method of travel. A reindeer, or hot air balloon, or roller skates... 

26. Your characters are somehow forced to interrupt a funeral. One of the mourners provides them with unexpected wisdom.

27. Your villain becomes obsessed with knock-knock jokes. Her alarmed second-in-command plots a coup.

28. They unexpectedly find their dream house. And it changes everything. 

29. Just when they couldn't slow down, your characters get caught in a local celebration, festival, or holiday. 

30. That terrible fear that your main character has been nursing, and having nightmares about... Yeah. If he doesn't face it now, he'll lose everything.
     

31. An essential character steadily refuses to talk to your main character. For reasons that no one can understand. (Yet.) 

32. They come across a chair with magical or mythical properties. Does your character sit in it, or not?

33. Whatever problem your characters are facing, they cure it with salt water: sweat, or tears, or the sea.

34. Just when your characters thought they could relax, the roof falls in. (Or a tree limb drops. Or the tent collapses. Or the mine caves in.)

35. To stave off certain doom, your character has to invent an elaborate story.

36. A minor character falls in love with the worst sort of person for her, at the worst possible time.

37. The next stage of your characters' plans are thwarted by a massive insect attack. (Ew.)

38. Whatever tool or skill or technology your characters were most relying on--it breaks. It stops working. It's faulty. Now what?

39. Something disagreeable surfaces in your protagonist's bowl of soup.

40. It turns out that all the old tales about this time of day, or this character, or this place, or this tradition, were true. And that is very bad news.
     

41. Your characters knew that they were running out of time. New information cuts their remaining time in half. This forces your characters to rely on someone they know to be untrustworthy...

42. If you haven't killed off a minor character yet... do it. If you have killed one, try resurrecting him, one way or another.

43. And then they find an old letter, with terrible implications for them, for what they're about to do, and who they're up against.

44. Your characters (either the good guys or the bad guys) interrupt a play, concert, recital, movie, or sporting event, and demand help from the entire audience. 

45. Someone falls: through the flooring, through the ice, into quicksand, through the stairs. Wherever they are, the ground gives way.

46. Something irresistible tempts your main character, but if she gives in now, she loses everything. How does she fight it?

47. A barrier that everyone counted on--whether physical, mental, social, financial or emotional--gives way. In the chaos, what does your character do?

48. Time for a natural disaster. Storm, flood, fire, earthquake, avalanche... Send your characters scrambling.

49. To move forward, your main character must travel to a place to which he swore he'd never return.

50. Your main character risks everything to save someone weaker than herself.

... Any of those give your story a boost?? I hope so! Just for fun, let me know which number restarted your draft.

Okay... back to those words! 

This Is What You Find Out When You Try to Write a Marathon (Or, Happy Nanowrimo!)

Okay: I DID consider choosing a November theme that didn't involve Nanowrimo... But honestly, that made as much sense as American Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie. Sacrilege! I just couldn't bring myself to do it!

So, this month, we'll be chatting about Nanowrimo, or--for those of you not participating this year--the experience of drafting at a marathon pace. 

And BECAUSE it's a marathon pace, I'm gonna keep my posts nice and short this month, so you can get on with those impressive word counts! Ready, set, go!

---

For those of you doing Nanowrimo for the first time this year: WAHOO! I am so excited for you. You've just begun an incredible experience, and I'm pretty dang sure it will change your writing life forever.

Here are three things I've learned--and relearned--each time I took on the Nanowrimo challenge.

1. It is gonna hurt.

Let me say right now: I'm a huge fan of Nanowrimo. I've participated (and won!! eek!) four times, and I've never regretted the experience. 

Oh wait, what am I talking about. I have TOTALLY regretted the experience.

I've regretted it right there in the midst of writing--or not writing--when my brain would cramp up, and all my characters said only stupid things, and then I'd realize how much crappy TV I haven't watched and how I should probably get moving on that.

I have had moments of hating Nanowrimo with the same passion that I hate re-starting an exercise routine, or chopping a pile of vegetables for a healthy dinner, or forcing myself to have an awkward conversation with someone even though I'm an introvert, thanks, and would rather, you know, live under a rock. 

In other words: Nanowrimo is hard ... just like other wonderful and empowering and healthy and transformative experiences are hard.

Frankly, I think it helps to know this in advance: You might have moments when you don't absolutely love it.

So when it gets rough, give a shout out to your Nanowrimo community, your writing pals, or the Nanowrimo Twitter account. 

Or hey!! This is a writing blog and I love you, so you can groan to me in the comments, or send me a shout on Twitter as well. I will cheer for you!

And together, we'll remember why you're doing this insane and wonderful thing. (BECAUSE YOUR STORY IS AWESOME. Ahem. But yeah, that's why.)

 2. It will surprise you.

When you are writing that many words, that quickly, with that much focus... AMAZING THINGS begin to happen in your work. And also in you.

I am so not kidding.

You'll start to live more inside your story than out of it. You'll start misplacing things in your house. You'll have your head kinda tipped to one side, listening for character voices. 

It might get a little weird. 

But it also might feel like your story is alive. Living and breathing right there under your fingertips. And exerting this magnetic pull on you, on your brain, on your time. 

You'll start canceling any appointments you haven't already canceled. You might start wondering if Thanksgiving is optional.

Characters take matters into their own hands. Plot twists leap to mind, a dozen times better than the ones you thought you loved in your outline.

Settings acquire a richer history. They begin to haunt your dreams.

All that writing momentum just might sweep you up, take you over. Now and then, you'll experience that elusive sensation: that the book is writing itself.

It's a delicious thing. Don't fight it. Just sink in.

3. It will be totally worth it. 

There will be moments of pain and frustration. There will also be moments when you think you are losing your mind, or at least, that you are much, much weirder than you ever guessed.

But here's what I know: Doing this crazy challenge will teach you super valuable things about yourself as a writer, about the craft of storytelling, and about your manuscript. 

Trust me on this. You will learn things by doing Nanowrimo that you can't learn any other way.

Not by reading. Not by someone like me telling you stuff. And not by overthinking and perfectionisming (I made that word up, but you know what I mean) and fiddling with a manuscript for far. too. long. 

You'll get smarter. Wiser. More story-savvy.

You'll understand better what bores you in a story. And what makes your blood pump a little faster.

(Even if you don't finish! Even if you don't "win"! But pretend I didn't say that. Because you're totally going to win. High five.)

I'm crazy-excited for all you lionhearted Wrimos out there. If you're doing Nanowrimo, please do give a shout, either here in the comments or on Twitter! I want to cheer you all on!! 

Now... back to those word counts! 

Here's Why You Need a Writing Graveyard: A Super Simple Tip that Will Save You So Much Angst

Here's a writing scenario for you:

Brilliant lionhearted writer (either you or me) sits down at her computer. She pulls up the document of her (amazing! incredible!) drafted work. She settles in for a session of revision.

She finds a problematic passage that needs to go. It's too tangential to the plot, or it involves characters that she has totally rewritten. Or maybe it's this lovely lyrical description that matters a lot to her but maybe not so much to her readers.

It's a passage that--even if she wishes she could deny it--her gut is telling her to cut.

Maybe it's even one of those "darlings" that we writers are always told to kill.

At this point, the Emotions might show up. Maybe as a vague sense of dread, or that smothering impression of how HARD writing is. How thankless the revision process can sometimes feel. 

Or just a bit of defiance: "But I don't WANT to cut it."

Hands up--does this sound familiar? Anyone else ever feel like a bad writing-mother, chopping away at the paragraphs she labored over for so long? Anyone else have an attack of Emotions that then derail the writing day, or at least make it feel bruised and wearying?

I figured out a little trick to deal with this, and believe me, it helps. It doesn't take all the sting out of deleting words, but it goes a long way to soften the blow.

It's really easy. Super straightforward. And I'm betting a bunch of you already do this. But if not: give it a try. 

Here it is: I make a graveyard file. 

Whenever I create a document for a new project, I immediately make a twin file, a document that will hold every deleted chunk of that project. 

And then, whenever I'm revising and I come across a passage that needs to go, when I decide (for the fourth dang time!) that I need to rework the opening sequence, or when I have to cut that little phrase I used to describe the dog ... 

... whether it's a big chunk or just a little phrase, I cut it and paste it right into the graveyard file. 

Yes, I still feel that little twinge of "I wrote that, but it has to come out." Yes, I still feel that little flare of "darn it, I have to rewrite that opening sequence ... mutter mutter mutter."

But I don't feel the wild-eyed panic of tossing my beautiful little words out to the wolves. I don't have to think so hard about it, debating with myself, before cutting a chunk. 

If I suspect that I need to cut it, I do. Right away. If I change my mind later, I can search for it and pop it back into place. No harm done.

I have been so much less panicky about deleting things since I started doing this. And, bonus, I'm much quicker to chop things that really, really needed to go. 

And thanks to my little graveyard file keeping all my words for me, I'm a lot less emotional about hacking away those passages that don't work. After all, they're not really gone! I can go reread those words anytime I want.  

Anything that keeps me out of the path of a raging mood is a really good thing.

It makes for a better draft and a happier writer. Less wear and tear all around! What's not to love about that??

So if you're going to revise (and you are!), and if you're going to have to cut some of your lovely words (and you are!), do yourself a favor and give them a sweet burial. 

Whew. So much easier.

This Is the Better Way to Dress Up: Imagining the Writer You Want to Be

So HERE'S an embarrassing question. It's Monday, and hopefully you have some coffee or some such thing, and hopefully you won't reach through your screen and wallop me for being so nosy. 

Besides, I'll even answer it first. 

Embarrassing question: When you daydream about your future as a writer, what does that look like? 

Not the humble, Twitter-acceptable version of "oh, I'm going to just keep growing and learning and eventually publish." (Even though that's all great.) 

I mean, what does it really look like?

In my daydreamed future, I'm usually living in an airy little bungalow--a ridiculously charming and cozy place, crowded with books (in the places where it isn't being airy, I guess). 

The bungalow was purchased with money made from selling books. (Probably a very small bungalow in that case. But nevertheless.)

I'm busy as a bee in my office, churning out one book after the next, creating books for a series that has mega fans.

MEGA. As in, readers dressing up as my characters, or naming children after them, or having themed weddings based on the books. 

(Ahem. Daydreams are allowed to be silly and totally unreasonable. It's their job.)

Daydreamed-Lucy is always full of ideas, always scribbling, and then maybe jaunting about getting coffee and meeting friends at a bookstore, and...

Yeah.

Happy, cheery, energetic writer, who writes, writes, writes, in the midst of a happy, cheery life.

Especially: Making an actual living with my writing. (Also consuming enormous amounts of baked goods and caffeine.)

That's what I dream up. 

And I usually dream it up when I'm not doing a lot of writing. 

I take refuge in this little daydream whenever life gets crowded and my writing habit slips. Or when I'm sick for a while and have a hard time working (I'm looking at you, epic sinus infection of September!!).

So, your turn: What do you daydream about, when you imagine your writerly future? 

(Nothing is too silly, too far-fetched, or too grandiose. I promise.)

What do you imagine? 

Got an idea? The general gist of your dreamed-up future?

Okay. Good. Here's what I want us to do:

In honor of the week of Everyone Dressing Up, aka, Halloween, let's think of what it would be like if that writing life became yours this week.

If you and I could put on our dreamed writing lives, if we could become that kind of writer by Saturday night, as easily as my neighborhood kids become ghosts, princesses, and the Avengers ... If we could do that, what would it look like?

I promise that this really is a practical question. I promise I'm not just being silly.

Because behind my dreams of the snug cheery bungalow and the brioche and the ever-intensifying caffeine addiction, there's something extremely concrete and real. Something that illuminates a goal that I can, shockingly enough, forget I have sometimes.

I want to make a living from writing and selling incredibly good books. Books that readers just LOVE.

Sometimes, I forget that.

Sometimes, I must think I'm aiming to be a binge watcher for Netflix, or a cookbook tester and reviewer, or professional Pinner of knitted goods. 

Because honestly, sometimes that's what my behavior looks like. That's what I get more enthusiastic about some days. 

And THAT, my friends, is why these slightly-embarassing, future-writer daydreams are so dang helpful! They aren't as foolish and time-wasting as I sometimes think. They don't have to be dismissed outright. 

They actually show us what it is that we'd really like to aim for. They point us where we need to go.

Time for an empowering quote? Sure. Here's one from Henry David Thoreau:

If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost;
that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.

HIGH FIVE, Thoreau. I am so with you. 

What does it look like, to put the foundations under your daydream?

For a little more illumination, here's some extremely practical insight from Heather Sellers. (Yes, yes, I quote her all the time, but she has saved my writerly skin so often, I can't help it!)

In Chapter After Chapter, she tells about her writing friend Rachel, who was writing her first novel in spite of an intense day job.

Sellers writes: "She wanted to become a full-time, well-paid writer, so she hired herself (without pay) and did what full-time, well-paid writers do: Write. A lot."

Makes sense, right? Pretty straightforward. Even simple.

But something clicked in me when I first read that. It was exactly what I needed to hear, to start putting the foundations under my castles in the air. 

What kinds of habits could you adopt now, to become that writer of your daydreams? 

Another way to say all this (and something that Austin Kleon writes about): Fake it 'til you make it.

Not the bad kind of faking. This is the good stuff. As Kleon puts it: "You have to dress for the job you want, not the job you have, and you have to start doing the work you want to be doing."

YES. Right? Let's do that.

Let's practice being the kind of writer we most desperately want to be. The writer of our dreams. Let's practice being that.

And you know what happens? We get to become that.

So what are you dreaming about? And what will you be practicing this week?

Let's treat our daydreams--even the silliest ones!--with the seriousness that they really do deserve. Let's honor them by practicing those behaviors.

By dressing for the job we want to have.

For me, this means:

• Digging deep into revisions, building a solid story, fixing the structure, going crazy-awesome on the characters. If I want a trilogy that will inspire mass devotion, it needs to be the best dang thing I can muster! Editing without flinching. Game on.
   

• Learning from the pros. I've been reading excellent books from Steven Pressfield (this and this), Rachel Aaron (this might change EVERYTHING for you!), and the amazing Joanna Penn. 
   

• READING MORE FICTION! Ack! It keeps falling through the cracks, so I am scheduling it. An hour a day. (The schedule is legit. This is going to happen.)
   

• Staying nice. It's all too easy for me to get wild-eyed and rabid when it comes to productivity and not screwing up. But that daydreamed version of me is happy as she is writing. Not glowering at everyone and hating everything. So I gotta remember to be a kind boss.
   

• Drinking coffee. (DONE.)

How about you, lionheart? What's your list? How can you be a little more like that Future Writer You this week? 

Put on those habits. Just dress right on up in them. Act like that writer you want to be this week. 

(It's a waaaaay cooler costume than Iron Man. And it looks excellent on you. Just sayin'.)

This Book Is about How to Love Writing over the Long Haul

I am always hungry to read memoirs about the writing life. I'm downright greedy for more information: How do the best writers think? 

How do they arrange their days? How do they view themselves and their work? What do they do with schedules, when and what do they read, do their families think they're crazy?

All that juicy stuff.

But sometimes, it gets depressing. 

Some writers hate writing. Or at least they find it so difficult and excruciating that, yeah, it practically amounts to hatred. 

This is not the kind of stuff I want to read about. (I know it can be helpful to all yowl about writing together, but ... sheesh. It does get discouraging.)

I'd rather hear from someone who's been around the block and still loves to write. Someone who still has that freshness, who can't help enjoying it, who thrives on stories.

That's how I want to be. That's who I want to learn from.

Which is why I loved Stephen King's book On Writing. 

I loved this book for his tone--he's funny, salty, honest, and generous. It has a practical, companionable feel, but there's a crazy amount of wisdom in it as well. (Get ready to underline a bunch!)

Best of all, he still loves writing so much that it reinvigorates me when my own enthusiasm starts flagging.

The first section he calls C.V., "a kind of curriculum vitae--my attempt to show how one writer was formed."

It's essentially a memoir, but a memoir through the lens of writing. Experiences from childhood that turned into themes in his fiction.

Totally cool, right? The story nerd in me just eats that up. It sent me musing through my own childhood, thinking again about stuff from childhood that stayed with me, the themes I am always writing toward.

And King shows how the kinds of stories he loved as a kid became the kinds of stories he aimed to tell as a writer. (Which, I'm finding, is also true of me.)

That whole first section is laced with writerly thinking, but it's in the second half of On Writing that he talks about writing itself--what makes good writing good, and why you should read everything you can get your hands on.

He also talks through his own process (soooooo helpful), and how he thinks through each stage of a project. There's so much practical stuff in here! A lot of ideas that I took and applied to my own work.

This is a good one, friends. It's personal, and interesting, and will help you see how your life has shaped your writing, and how your writing shapes your life. At the same time, he talks about the craft in a way that sharpens your writing, and hones your attention.

This is an especially good book to grab if you're tempted to feel grumpy about your writing life, or how hard writing has been. 

As King says near the very end of the book,

Writing isn't about making money, getting famous.
... It's about enriching the lives of those who will read your work,
and enriching your own life, as well.
It's about getting up, getting well, and getting over.
Getting happy, okay? Getting happy. 

Getting happy.

He's been through just about everything, he's written a zillion words (I'm sure that's an accurate number), and he still gets happy about writing. 

That's exactly how I want to be.

When Life Steals Your Writing Time, Here's How You Fight Back

Sometimes, in spite of all your best intentions, your schedule gives a bit of a shiver and then chucks your writing time to one side. 

Maybe you're traveling, maybe you're sick, or maybe you're in the midst of a big lovely celebration. Happy reasons or frustrating reasons, but one way or another, it gets hard to reach your work.

And if you're writing a novel, all those characters stop standing on their tiptoes. Their shoulders sag. They stop talking to you.

What's a lionhearted writer to do?

Here's a little secret of mine, a "technique" I've used from time to time, although it's really too silly to be called a technique.

But because it is silly, and also oh-so-doable, and also because it usually WORKS--usually keeps my brain tied to my book in spite of whatever is going on--you should try it!

Here's what I do. I write letters. To the thing that is standing in the way of my book.

Not to the traveling, and not to the being sick, and not to the family reunion. 

I write my letters to Creep. 

Heather Sellers is the one who introduced me to Creep formally, though I knew it by its ways long before that. Here's her explanation (from the fantastic, yes-you-must-get-your-hands-on-it book, Chapter After Chapter): 

Most people, especially on their first book, struggle with a terrible insidious mental weed called Creep. If you don't surround yourself with your book, you risk it creeping away from you--or you unintentionally creeping away from it. Creep is bad, and it's as common as the common cold. ... The dreaded Creep is always out there, slowly trying to steal your book from you.

Yes? Right?

You've met Creep before too, haven't you?

I started writing letters to Creep when on a long trip to Florida, visiting family. I was having a lovely time, but my characters were shrinking, and I was terrified of losing them. 

Terrified, but also exhausted, and my writerly brain was only playing static. 

I couldn't work. I couldn't do the plotting and the characterizations that I so needed to do.

But I also hated feeling my novel dry up.

So I grabbed some paper. I clicked a pen. And I wrote--in big, angry letters:

Dear Creep, 

I see you, you mangy destroyer. I see you trying to plant your clawfoot in my days. I see your twisted fingers clutching for my story. I can smell your turnip breath. And I see the oily gleam in your eye.

I can tell you think you've won.

And then I told Creep that I was coming for it. That trips don't last forever, and when I got enough brain cells together, I would write my story with everything I could muster.

I told it all the reasons why I still loved my book. I told it why my characters were worth it.

I told it I was going to fight. 

And at that point, my pen was warmed up, and I was furious and also thinking about my story.

Guess what happened naturally? I started telling myself about scenes that I loved the most. The ones that still grabbed my heart, in spite of the days and activities that filled the space between me and my book.

I started scribbling about other things I would write, about the scenes still to come. I wrote about why I loved my protagonist. I wrote why the antagonist scared me. I wrote about the core images from the book: the moments that I could close my eyes and see.

... And oh, look what happened: The novel's heart started beating again.

Even on a tough day. A mental static day. An I-haven't-written-in-too-freaking-long day. 

I loved how Sellers named this force Creep. I loved that it gave me something to fight. 

Instead of living with that withering feeling of, "It's easier and easier to not write, and also I am probably the worst kind of writing fraud." 

Writing letters to Creep brought my focus back to my book. And it helped me be angry at the right things: not at the circumstances, not at the people who legitimately needed me, not at the days for going by, and not at myself.

I got mad at the thing that was sucking the life out of my work. At Creep.

And I got mad by writing. 

I thwarted it by writing.

I brought my story back to mind. By writing. 

So if your October is filling up with non-writing things, and if your characters are shrinking by the second, and if you're starting to feel desperate...

Well, for starters, please give yourself a huge hug from me, because that is such a hard and terrible feeling, and one I know only too well. One I still fight. 

Give yourself a hug. Get yourself some chocolate. 

And then find a scrap of paper. Flip over an envelope, turn over a receipt, get a little sticky note. And a pen.

And I want you to tell Creep exactly what you think of it. (Be ruthless.) And then write why your story matters. (Because it DOES.)

Put that monster in its place. And remind yourself of how much love you have for your story. 

Tell that piece of paper exactly what kind of lionhearted writer you are.

The kind of writer who will save her story.

The kind who keeps writing.