Beginner’s Guide to Faithism

These are the main societal isms:

Racism.

Sexism.

Heterosexism.

Ageism.

It is not cool to be an ist. Ever.

Yet;

it is quite suitable to disregard above when

faithism

comes to the table.

Current trends suggest it has become tres en vogue to be this particular brand of ist.

Whenever. Wherever. With whomever.

See below.

When referring to persons of faith, popular descriptive terms include:

idiotic

insular

weak

misguided

delusional

brainless

and

programed  

*Above descriptors are much more effective when preceded by a carefully selected expletive.

When discussing persons of faith, one should:

• choose the most current and extreme case of zealousness
• name extreme case of zealousness “Religion”
• equate “Religion” with all persons of faith
• discuss

The above formula will ensure all persons of faith are equally deemed religious zealots. Because that is the way it really is.

When considering persons of faith, it is advisable to:

1. Never assume they are intelligent, free-thinking people. Always assume they are against advancement and science.
2. Never assume they work hard at walking through life. Always assume they use a crutch.
3. Never assume they are interested in people and the world they live in. Always assume they despise anyone who doesn’t share their beliefs.
4. Never assume they are pro. Always assume they are anti.

N.B. Assumptions are the most accurate way of determining the personality, character, and distinctiveness of individuals.

Faithism. It’s the new black.

Wear it well.

Or risk flouting the trend.

Disclaimer: Any resemblance of above commentary to persons either living or dead is purely coincidental. Or not.

Stephen King and the Swirling Thing

You know how sometimes you feel something swirling just below the surface, and that something isn’t able to form itself into a real, perceptible thought until someone asks you just the right question? That happened to me the other night. Via a facebook conversation.

N.B. I don’t care what anyone says about facebook. I’ve had some pretty significant interactions on that thing.

I updated my status while under the influence of a writerly frustration haze, stating something along the lines of how books on writing tend to cloud my vision more than sharpen it. I then declared Stephen King’s ON WRITING to be the only book I’ve read thus far that has truly empowered, rather than destroyed me. Said conversation ensued. It began like many do, with people linking arms in artistic solidarity, feeling my pain, and offering encouraging alternatives. And, as expected, coffee came up as a solution at least once. For which I am grateful.

The inciting incident that turned the conversation around for me was a question. And it ran along the lines of this: I’m curious: How was King’s book so empowering? What makes it so different from the rest?

I can’t count how many times I’ve praised ON WRITING not only to fellow writers, but to anyone who will listen. “It’s such a great book!” “I read it at least once a year, it’s that good!” “Stephen King freaks me out, but his book on writing is hilarious and so inspiring!” “I love Stephen King!”

N.B. I don’t really love love Stephen King. But I do love Stephen King.

But do you know what? No one has ever asked me why. No one. Ever. And do you know what else? I didn’t really know why. Well, I did, but all this time it was just something that was swirling below the surface. Something that I’d never taken the time to identify. Something that has made everything else I’ve read since not measure up. And it isn’t because I’m a devoted, die-hard Stephen King horror fan who is infatuated with anything the man writes. Far from it. But that question now demanded that I reach in, capture, and name the swirling thing.

So this is what I named it:

I think it’s a combination of things – his humour, his insights, how he draws parallels between his experiences and his writing – but mainly his attitude. He is still just as realistic and hard-hitting about the publishing industry as the rest, but he doesn’t come across as jaded or as superior in his delivery. He’s someone who has worked his way from below ground level to the top, yet keeps firmly in his sights where he came from and credits his whole human experience as being what has made him the writer he is today. He seems to not take anything for granted and also does not speak down to the reader. Here’s a guy who has made millions and is one of the best known writers out there, yet he comes across as the guy next door: reading the book feels like you’re sitting on lawn chairs in your backyard with him, roasting marshmallows while he tells you his story instead of in a classroom where you’re sitting under fluorescent lighting and he’s standing at the front lecturing. He doesn’t try to reduce writing to a formula he’s thought up – he quite openly says he has no clue why his writing sometimes works and why sometimes it doesn’t. And because of all of this he manages to make you feel you are an author along with him, not one who’s following him and trying to catch up. And that is very empowering.*

It’s a rather long name, I agree. But it’s the last line that sums it up for me: … he manages to make you feel you are an author along with him, not one who’s following him and trying to catch up.

Isn’t that the mark of a great leader? Of someone you want to listen to? Of someone you want to learn from and spend time with? Someone who will walk with you, not in front of you. Someone who recognizes your uniqueness and works with your strengths. Someone who doesn’t lord their position over you, but lays their position firmly beneath you to support you and set you up for success.

That’s the kind of individual I want to choose as my go-to person. And that person’s voice will cut through the noise of all the others because it is the one that’s close to my ear.

Stephen King has given me a gift. A writer’s gift. And I hope I can pass a similar swirling-beneath-the-surface-type gift to someone else someday. In whichever way they need it.

 *N.B. This is why I never want to meet Stephen King in person. I’d hate to discover he’s really not the type to sit and roast marshmallows with me.

Motivation and The Grey

I watched The Grey last night. Holy. Wow. I couldn’t bring myself to take the garbage out to the garage after that for fear of the glowing eyes. Or worse, for fear of being pounced on and torn to shreds from behind. True, the worst that could happen to me in my backyard in the city would be a snarl and possibly a nip from an unsuspecting, glowy-eyed raccoon, but still. I wouldn’t even swim in a pool for a good long while after just seeing the previews of Jaws.

I couldn’t get The Grey out of my head all night. The moments of off-the-charts fear of what was lurking in the darkness. The looks of complete terror in the characters’ eyes as they were being attacked. The deep despair of being lost, feeling forgotten, being isolated – made to face the many dreads of the cold, stormy landscape alone and ill-equipped. It seemed those already dead got the better end of the deal.

I wonder if a motivational saying like: Keep Calm and Carry On would have helped these guys?

Or maybe one of these little gems:

We don’t see things the way they are. We see them the way WE are – Talmud.

I have found that if you love life, life will love you back – Arthur Rubinstein.

We must let go of the life we had planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us – Joseph Campbell.

Life isn’t a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, Chardonnay in one hand, chocolate in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming ‘Woohoo WHAT A RIDE’! – anonymous

Ah. What these fellas were missing was the Chardonnay and chocolate! Then the ride would have been worth it.

Now, don’t get me wrong: I love a good motivational saying like the next person. They’re great little pick-me-ups for when you’re feeling like crap and want a little nugget that suggests everything will be okay in the end. They’re even great for when you’re feeling good and want confirmation that you’re on the right track; your attitude doesn’t suck at the moment, and you can nod and even laugh along.

But what if your situation truly does appear hopeless? What if reading quotes like the above feel more like a slap in the face, or a laughing pointing finger, than a comfort? What if you’ve fought and worked and persevered and journeyed tirelessly, only to keep running into to the same barriers, the same obstacles, the same behemoths time and time again? What if you find yourself in that place?

True that the above quotes, and so many others like them, hold grains of truth that can be applied to almost anyone in any situation. But there comes a time when nice cozy sentiments don’t cut it. When everything comes up short and we need to face the reality that no, not everything works out in the end all the time. Not every book, movie, situation, relationship, goal, life has a happy ending. And we’d be sorely remiss to permit – or fool – ourselves to think it does.

There will come a time when the motivational quote you may have to cling to looks more like this:

 Once more into the fray
Into the last good fight I’ll ever know
Live and die on this day
Live and die on this day*

When you feel like this might truly be the last good fight you’ll ever know. When you are prepared to live and die on this day. When you feel like if you don’t succeed this time, it’ll be the end.

I wonder if you’ve been told at some point or another in your life that “maybe you’ve just got to know when to give up.” I know I have been. And I’ve more than once considered those words. And have almost given in to them as many times.
Almost.

But the question remains: When do you give up? When signs of the impossibility of success surround you like crash debris in an isolated arctic landscape? When you’re face to face with the wolves you’re sure will completely devour you? When you fall so hard and get banged up so much that you’re convinced you’ll never be able to get back on your feet? When you get wedged between rocks so strong they hold you down so you can’t break the surface for air? Does there come a time when you should just lie down on the rocky shore of a gently flowing river and surrender because the fight has become Too. Damn. Hard?

When? When do you pack it in?

Never. Not even when you find yourself on your knees completely exhausted, spent, fenced in, and smack dab in the middle of the den. Even then you must not give up. Instead, strap knives and broken bottles to your bloody, frostbitten hands and say,

 Once more into the fray
Into the last good fight I’ll ever know
Live and die on this day
Live and die on this day*

Even then, look the problem that’s become your enemy in the eyes, once again, and utter, “Bring it!”

It won’t be easy. It won’t be fun. It won’t feel all fuzzy and warm and inspirational. You most likely won’t be putting your glass of Chardonnay and bar of chocolate down in order to strap on your weapons. But you will have the satisfaction of knowing you didn’t give up. You didn’t hit the floor and roll over. You didn’t surrender. You didn’t betray yourself.

But know that you can’t do it completely on your own. Sure, the internal motivation, the perseverance, the drive to survive must come from within yourself. But you can only travel so far via your own strength and determination. If we’re honest with ourselves, we know our own reserves will only last so long. And we know “two heads are better than one.”

So, allow me to share some insights I’ve gleaned on the path of my own non-trivial journey that have now been seared into my head and heart, thanks to The Grey and my sleepless night. And if you have any others, please do share them in the comments below.

1)      Listen to advice. But be choosy. Don’t fall for listening to people who are self-important, people who talk the talk but haven’t walked the walk. Seek the guidance of veterans, of people who’ve been there, people who know what they’re talking about and have the scars to prove it.

2)      Equip yourself. Prepare for the long hard road ahead before you take that first step. Know what you’re getting into enough to anticipate challenges. Research. Feed yourself with knowledge and pray for wisdom.

3)      Get into a group of like-minded people. And stay there. Those who lag behind, the sick, the injured ones, they are always the ones to get picked off first.

4)      Don’t get cocky and think you’re better or smarter than others. This means be open to new ideas, suggestions, perspectives, approaches. This also includes being nice to people and getting along. Because if you don’t you’ll soon find yourself at the back of the group. A prime pick-off target.

5)      Be creative. If one method doesn’t work, try another. Be smart. Think ahead. Open your mind. Break the cycle of insanity**

6)      Determine now that even if, after doing all that was humanly and spiritually possible, you still end up smack dab in the middle of the den, you won’t roll over. You’ll strap knives and broken bottles to your hands and utter, “Bring it!”

7)      Make a pact with yourself that the only time you’ll actually give up is when you’ve got no vitals and your soul has left the building. Literally.  

Now get back out there, into the fray.

*Quote from The Grey

** “Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” – Albert Einstein

Your 30 Minutes on the Wire

I couldn’t watch Nik Wallenda’s Walk last night until I knew he’d made it safely across. I’ve always harbored a secret terror of the falls – ever since I was a kid I’ve imagined myself being magnetically pulled into the powerful flow of water at the top of the falls, if I got too close. Even now, knowing via 40+ years of experience that that won’t happen to me, I still white-knuckle-grip the railings whenever I decide to venture close enough to witness that raw force of nature.

So Wallenda’s stunt was way too stressful for me to watch live. (I can’t imagine how his family felt!) But as soon as I heard someone (can’t remember if it was my husband or daughter) declare: He’s not dead! I sat in front of the t.v. to watch the interviews and highlights. Besides the glow of his triumphant face, this is what caught my attention the most, even above the sweaty-palm, heart-racing clips:

One interviewer said something along the lines of: So, you say you pray a lot, before and after you walk. How can you even do that knowing you’re purposefully putting your life in danger?

And Wallenda responded with something along of the lines of: Yes, I do pray. A lot. And that’s because God has given me this ability and also the desire to follow my dream of fulfilling it. So, Claudia Osmond from Toronto Ontario Canada, do not give up on your dream, no matter how much it terrifies you at times, no matter how many times you hear – or feel – it’s impossible, no matter how long it takes you. Recognize the source of your ability and do it! I just did!

It was amazing to me how my family totally missed the last part of what he said, but I heard it loud and clear.

One of these days I might share the deeply personal story of how I came to finish my first book and actually submit it for publication. Publication was not on my mind when I started writing it. At. All. But that story is for another time.

Last night, Nik Wallenda’s words of faith, trust, confidence, and passion were so alive to me. Yes! I thought. That’s right! You did it! Your whole life has been preparation for this moment in the mist: A lifetime of hard work, focus, prayer, vision. A lifetime of dedication that was deeply personal and unseen by the rest of the world. Until it was manifested within the span of 30 minutes.

A lifetime of work boiled down to 30 minutes.

And even in the very act of achieving the dream he’d spent so long preparing for – that 30 minutes on the wire – Wallenda faced thick mist, 14 mph gusts, slick wire, raging water below and beside him. And the reality that no one else in history had accomplished this feat in 116 years.

And still he did it.

Don’t just follow; catch up to your dream. Never stop working. Never give up focus. Face your fears with white-knuckle determination. Walk steadily through your obstacles. Pray, meditate, renew your vision. Recognize the birthplace of your ability. And exert whatever effort it takes to achieve your 30 minutes on the wire.

Best Creative Self

A nice little lunch conversation the other day led me to an epic self-discovery moment. One that wasn’t so epically awesome.

All you need to know about the conversation that led to the instant when time stopped to open its jaws and suck me into a gravityless atmosphere of a WTF void is this line, said by me: “Oh, so you have a nanny so you can paint during the day, when you are at your best creative self?”

(((cue loss of grip on reality, which included a fork in a Greek salad, and commence spinning off into the void)))

Whaaat? Are you serious? Back in the day when my kids were young I sacrificed my best creative self on the altar of motherhood. I had no choice. I had to. I didn’t have a nanny, housekeeper, personal trainer, cheerleaders who told me to go ahead, follow your dream; we’ll help you take care of the rest. Back in the day my best creative self was stuffed, kicking and screaming, into a vault and locked, not to be set free until the grown up responsibilities of important life allowed it. Back in the day … Actually, forget back in the day: I STILL sacrifice my best creative self on the altar of things I have to do. By the time I actually get around to closing the door to the outside and jimmying the lock on the window to my creativeside, I’ve got nothing left to give!

You can all now join your virtual hands and together send me a collective, “Oh, poor, poor you. Poor, poor your best creative self. You are such a hero for your sacrifices.”

Or, you can do what I did. (Well, what I did after I resumed cognizance and managed to impale a sliced tomato onto the prongs of my fork and guide it to my mouth all the while nodding and smiling and chewing as if I hadn’t just briefly left the conversation to take a quick spin in my internal abyss of despair. And even once I’d emerged and had eaten the remaining cucumbers and olives, there were quite a few hours of “Oh, poor, poor me”-ing before I came to the moment of my epic self-discovery.)

And this was my epic discovery (feel free in joining my acknowledgment of it):

What an epic #creativefail I’ve been.

By that I don’t mean I’ve been failing creatively. I mean I’ve been failing my creativity. I haven’t been loyal to her. I haven’t elevated her to a high enough priority. I haven’t given her enough respect. I’ve made excuses for neglecting her; made justifications; used scapegoats; minimized her importance. I’ve done it in the past, and I still do it now. But it makes me a hero to no one: Not to my employer for whom I often work overtime, not to my family that wants me physically and emotionally present and clambers for my attention. Because, really? This is how it goes: The less I acknowledge and support my creativity, the less I write. The less I write, the more insecure I get about starting up again. The more insecure I get about starting up again, the less I feel like writing. The less I feel like writing, the more depressed I get. The more depressed I get the less I give to other people.

It’s not a cliché for artists to say making art is like breathing; to say they make art because they have to. It’s true. Artists must create. It’s part of our psyche. Part of what helps us process life; live life; enjoy life. It’s part of what keeps us healthy and happy. And it needs to have a place of priority.*

The trick is giving it its proper place.

And proper attention.

This is where I’ve failed most epically: in not paying heed to the significant detail that creativity doesn’t just happen during the act of putting paint to canvas, pencil to paper, fingers to keyboard. The process of creativity, for me, must start way before that: It begins in figuring out HOW and WHEN. Instead of complaining that I don’t have the kind of time and energy I want to dedicate to writing, it’s figuring out what I’m going to start sacrificing on the altar of my best creative self, instead of the other way around.

For my lunch friend it’s a sacrifice of cash to hire a nanny so she can paint during the day, not when she’s exhausted at night after the kids are in bed. For me, maybe it’s sacrificing some sleep time, lunch breaks, facebook sessions, blog post writing, coffee money to save up for a writing retreat. I don’t know. All I know is that I have to stop making excuses, and stop letting those excuses thwart my creativity. “I’m exhausted,” “I need downtime,” and “If only I could write full-time,” are getting old and just aren’t cutting it anymore. There are a lot of things that I can’t change, but there are some that I can. It’s time to take the little pockets of time in my days that I do have control over and start redefining their purpose to serve the empowerment of my best creative self.

I think I’m going to make little signs and post them on my alarm clock, in my lunch bag, above my computer, in my wallet. They’re going to say: FOR MY BEST CREATIVE SELF. Maybe I’ll make a t-shirt, too.

N.B. That paragraph-long rant starting with “Whaaat?” and ending with “I’ve got nothing left to give”? Yeah, I didn’t say any of that out loud. That was me spinning in the void. In case you’re wondering.

*Of course placing too much priority on your creative self can be just as damaging. The name escapes me, but there’s an author who didn’t even attend his own son’s funeral because it interfered with his writing schedule. There are countless artists whose entire identities are/were consumed by their creative selves. And just as many who have been destroyed by it; led down even darker roads of depression, despair, and isolation. They are examples of epic #fails, too, but of a whole other kind.

Waiting to Be Known

Old photographs simply burst with story; to me, the backstory being the most intriguing, by far.

Who hasn’t looked at an old photograph and wondered:

who are these people?

what lead them to this place?

what are their dreams?

their fears?

their joys?

their sorrows?

their secrets?

what are they thinking?

what happened next?

what happened just before?

where did they come from?

where have they been?

where are they now?

An image offers only a single snapshot; one moment in time. Forever frozen. Forever fading. Forever far away.

The who, what, where of story. In a photograph. Secreted within a single frame. Waiting to be known.

On Writing: Deborah Kerbel

Next up on my guest blogger series, On Writing, is Deborah Kerbel. Deborah has written several children’s and YA books, most notably:

MACKENZIE, LOST AND FOUND (2008)

GIRL ON THE OTHER SIDE (2009)

LURE (2010)

And her most recent offering, UNDER THE MOON (2012)

 

If you haven’t yet read any of Deborah’s books, I’d suggest you start. Like, tonight.

 

And now, here’s Deborah’s wonderful take on writing:

 

Click for Deborah’s website

 

This might sound strange, but I don’t usually give much thought to the mechanics behind my writing until somebody asks me about it. It’s like trying to explain why I breathe. I just do. But that’s not what people want to hear from an author. And, when pressed, I have to admit I can come up with a better answer than that.

So yes, I must confess that there is something that compels me to cloister myself in my office and pound away at my laptop for hours every day. I’m sorry to say that the reason isn’t anything particularly exciting or altruistic…no, I don’t imagine changing the young adult world one book at a time. For me, I guess you might say it’s pretty selfish — I just love creating something out of nothing. I always have. There’s something powerful about starting with a raw idea, breathing life into it, watching it grow and spiral into a story and then, ultimately, releasing it into the world for readers to discover. The whole process is magical…like watching an illusionist conjure up a fluttering dove out of thin air. And it’s what drives me forward in my writing.

It’s no different than that feeling you got when you were a little kid and you sat down to draw a picture. Remember that giddy jolt of excitement you’d get when you’d pull out a blank piece of paper — so full of possibilities — and a fresh box of crayons? And remember the satisfaction you’d get, attacking the emptiness and filling it up with anything you wanted? No rules, no guidelines, no limits beyond the edges of the paper. A small universe waiting for you to define it.

I remember how, as a child, I’d get so caught up in the moment, the world around me would fall away and all that mattered was the story I was trying to tell in my picture. And when I was done, I’d hold the drawing up and revel in the finished product and that delicious rush of joy and pride achieved by making something from nothing. And then I’d run upstairs to show my Mom, bursting with the need to share my newest creation.

I guess a part of me hasn’t fully grown up because that feeling has never left me. I still love making something out of nothing and losing myself in the magic of the process. The thrill of uncovering the small universe hiding inside every blank page remains deliciously undiluted, even after all these years. The only difference is that now I tell my stories with words instead of crayons. And now, I get to share my creations with a much bigger audience.

Although my mom is still my biggest fan.

So in the end, that’s the reason why I write. Selfish? Yeah, maybe. But, just like breathing, it keeps me going.

Let it Ride in the Trunk

Here I am making dinner, but I haven’t been able to get this idea for a blog post out of my head for the last few days so I’ve got the laptop open on the counter and I’m jotting things down as I chop cilantro, mash avocados, and shred cheese. (can you guess what we’re having for dinner?)

I got caught up in a facebook conversation the other day that, when my husband noticed my involvement said, “Uh oh. I see you’re raging again.” Well, I wasn’t raging (really) and I practiced considerable restraint by limiting myself to only two comments when I coulda said a whole lot more. (Which, evidently, I’m going to do here, instead)

The topic that fueled my raging that wasn’t raging? The idea of a “Christian genre” in the arts. Let me just say that I’m not opposed to specifically Christian expressions for the purpose of worship; I totally believe in and respect that. Absolutely. But I am opposed to a label slapped on art forms for the purpose of separating them from “non-Christian” ones. So, since that facebook status forced me to revisit my views on this topic and I couldn’t shake it out of my head, I started thinking about how this issue relates to my own writing, especially being a writer who is a Christian. And also how this issue relates to the arts in general.

So, how did I (not) rage about “Christian genre” the other night? Well, I’ve got a few opinions regarding that topic, but I decided to focus on just one. (See? Restraint) Here’s an excerpt from one of my comments to give it to you in a nutshell:

One of the problems with the ‘Christian genre’ is that because its main goal has been to be ‘set apart’ in the creative arena, it has often sacrificed authentic human expression on the altar of message. When message trumps authentic expression, the art form will appear contrived, (because, essentially, it is) without exception.

Yeah, I’ve seen this in movies, read it in books, experienced it in paintings, heard it in songs: Maybe you have, too. In a desire to share with the world what is most important to them, some artists who are Christians have chosen to make the message they want to share the main focus of their art. And that makes it feel contrived, ultimately resulting in people turning away.

Now, before you go all “Yeah, those *%!@# Christians!” reread and replace the crossed out parts (below) with other things; things that different people are passionate about and want to share with the world. Maybe something that’s important to you.

One of the problems with the ‘Christian genre’ is that because its main goal has been to be ‘set apart’ in the creative arena, it has often sacrificed authentic human expression on the altar of message. When message trumps authentic expression, the art form will appear contrived, (because, essentially, it is) without exception.

Yeah, I’ve seen this in movies, read it in books, experienced it in paintings, heard it in songs: Maybe you have, too. In a desire to share with the world what is most important to them, some artists who are _________________ have chosen to make the message they want to share the main focus of their art. And that makes it feel contrived, ultimately resulting in people turning away.

See what I’m saying? This is a universal pitfall and no one is completely immune to it. We all have things we strongly believe in, things we wish other people would believe, too. Message is a part of who we are and we can’t get rid of it. Nor should we try to. But as artists, part of our responsibility in creating meaningful art with integrity and honoring our craft is by knowing when we are being tripped up by message. And this is why:

When a message (any message) or point (any point) is the main focus in art, authentic expression takes a back seat; the raw beauty of humanness that is crucial to creating vital, meaningful art is weakened. It’s limited. Overshadowed. Sometimes it’s lost completely. When we become absorbed with making sure we always include this, this, and this into our art from our repertoire of personal belief, our art is going to suffer. Why? Because we are more concerned about telling the things we believe to be true than we are about showing the things in our heart.

Human minds tend not to see eye-to-eye on very many things. But human hearts relate on numerous things. Tons of things. Things like love, loneliness, sorrow, joy, pain, anger, relief, frustration, confusion, fear, hope, shame, disappointment, desire, longing for peace. The best art identifies with those most basic instincts of our human hearts and puts them in the driver’s seat. The best art honors humanity as a whole and identifies with more than just a select group of people. The best art serves to expand and enhance viewpoints; to add beauty and value to the world, to our lives; to entertain and increase joy; to create a sense of solidarity among the human race.

Art deserves more respect than to be taken hostage, beaten into submission, and forced to deliver a message.

No question that I struggle with resisting the urge to take my writing hostage from time to time, myself, in my desire to share what’s important to me and what I value and believe with the world. I think it’s safe to say we all want to be true through our art; to have it express who we are as individuals, as creative beings, as intelligent thinking people. The good news is I think art most definitely lends itself to that, without being told how to do it. Since creativity is born in the soul and given wings in the mind, whatever lives within the artist will be evident in their art by default. No contriving required.

So, for the sake of your art; for the sake of all that is valuable, authentic, and meaningful; for the sake of your readers, watchers, and listeners: don’t let message take the driver’s seat. Confine it to the back. Better yet: take it hostage and let it ride in the trunk. That way it won’t be jostling up against anyone or up in anyone’s face. Some people, however, may choose to investigate what that quiet thump, thumping is that’s going on in the background. And once they dig around and discover what it is, they’ll decide what to do with it for themselves.

On Writing: Megan Crewe

Next up on my quasi-random blog series, “On Writing”, is Megan Crewe, YA author of GIVE UP THE GHOST and the newly released Contagionesque thriller, THE WAY WE FALL.

Click for Megan's website

Writing, for Love or Money

If I’ve learned one thing about the publishing industry over the years, it’s that you can’t take anything for granted. When I got my first agent, I assumed that meant a book deal was soon to come. It ended up taking a year. When I sold my first book, I thought that meant smooth-sailing from there on. It took two and a half more years and four more novels (one shopped and shelved, the others deemed unready) before I sold a second.

The book that was shopped without selling was one I’d written specifically to be bigger and more commercial, one my agent at the time was incredibly excited about and was sure would get snatched up quickly. The books I have sold are a little odd, a little difficult to categorize: a paranormal YA that doesn’t have a romance, an apocalyptic YA without the usual dystopian trappings of oppressive authority figures or flashy action sequences.

I’ve seen authors claim that if you write what you’re passionate about, then others will feel passionately about it too. I can’t say if that’s true. One of the novels I wrote that I loved the most received the most criticism from my critique partners, and I haven’t yet figured out how to fix it. But what I do think is true is the vast majority of us can’t predict what will sell and what won’t. We don’t know whether the book we’re writing right now will be one that sells in three weeks or three years or never.

Once I realized that, I could no longer see the point in writing anything I *wasn’t* passionate about. If I can’t tell whether others will love a book before I’m finished it, the least I can do is make sure I’m writing something *I* love. It certainly makes the writing process more enjoyable! And when I’m writing something that’s important to me, it never feels like time wasted, even if I’m not able to send it out into the hands of readers right away. I know that story will always be there waiting for the right time, and since I care so much about it, I don’t mind the wait.

Pick Your Poison

I have discovered the secret to writing a book.

Really. I have.

Okay, I won’t keep you hangin’; I’ll tell you straight up. Here it is:

Write the book.                                                                                                             

Profound. Insightful. Discerning.

Really. It is. Especially when you are as prone to postponement* as I am. I could easily be the eighth Dwarf, the hundred-and-somethingth Smurf – that’s how fully I personify postponement. From knocking something off today’s to-do list onto tomorrow’s to leaving half-drunk glasses of water all over the house til it looks like we live on the set of Signs, hey, if it can be done now why not just wait til later? There’s always later. Not to mention there’s always facebook. (And blog posts that need to be written.)

But facebook and blog posts and later don’t write books. Putting words in the document hiding behind the currently open window on the screen does.

*minimize* Er, no, not that one.

*minimize* No, not that one.

*minimize* Not that one, either.

*minimize* Bingo!

Postponement, visual noise, busy work, and other such time suckers in additional flavors can all be welcome – if not occasionally necessary – diversions if consumed in moderation. But they can quickly become toxic if gobbled in large quantities. Before you know it, you’ll find you’ve discovered the secret to writing a book is not talking about writing it, reading about writing it, writing about writing it, thinking about writing it, but actually writing the book and you’ll be surprised you didn’t think of it yourself. So pick your poison carefully and enjoy responsibly. And know when it might be time to eliminate it altogether, if only for a while.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I shall go sober up and write the damn book.

***

*I prefer not to use the term “procrastination”, for reasons evident below:

“Oh, she’s just procrastinating.” – Whoa, negative vibes, right?

“Oh, she’s just postponing.” – Much more optimistic, isn’t it? Full of promise and anticipation; rainbows and butterflies.

 Disclaimer: Postponer Smurf may conjure up positive spins to defend her poison whenever deemed necessary.