Category: writing life (Page 10 of 18)

When the Music’s Over

After my sojourn through the realms of Dungeon Synth, I finally figured out why my writing sessions have been so “blah” lately. My routine has been to write after putting my kids to bed, but for the last several weeks, my mind has been foggy, my imagination has been feeble, and the words have come slowly. I wondered why. Was it just because I was writing at night, drained of energy by the long days? Or was I not reading enough? Not enough input?

Well, in a way, that was exactly my problem. But it wasn’t a problem of not enough reading. I’ve actually been reading more books lately than I have since winter began. The input problem wasn’t a literary one: it was a musical one.

I realized the other day that I haven’t been listening to enough music. My days are filled with kids yelling and causing a ruckus, with podcasts, with NPR, with students discussing novels and poetry, with conversation and talk. Most of these are good (minus the yelling children), but they aren’t music.

I have been living a musically-deficient life for awhile, and I think it’s having a detrimental effect on my writing.

Ever since I was a teenager, music and my creative process have been intrinsically linked. Songs would inspire stories, lyrics would generate images, melodies would create moods and feelings that led to ideas. The novella I’m working on right now — Avalon Summer — wouldn’t exist without the music of R.E.M. The Merlin’s Last Magic series owes its existence to The Smiths, 80s New Wave, and Loreena McKennitt . And my Icelandic-Sagas-Meet-Film-Noir world (the one where my short story “Things” takes place) wouldn’t have been conjured if I hadn’t been going through a Franz Ferdinand/garage rock phase in my late twenties.

Whether it’s Led Zeppelin or the Grateful Dead or Miracle Legion, music has been the seed from which so much of my creative work has grown.

And why am I struggling right now? Because I’m not listening to my music!

The forays into dungeon synth helped me realize that I NEED music to give me ideas and conjure images. Without images in my head, I can’t write. Without the moods and feelings that come from music, I have trouble generating the spark that gives my ideas life.

One of the things I’ve been thinking about lately is what I’ll do for Lent. It’s coming up soon, and I think the right answer for me is to give up the internet (with exceptions for my teaching work and this blog). I’ve done this kind of sacrifice before, but this time, I want to make sure I fill the space with something good. Prayer, of course, is the best thing to do in place of my doomscrolling, but maybe I can also use that time to listen to music. Grab the ol’ ipod and some earbuds and go on a sonic journey. Maybe the more I immerse myself in music again, the more I’ll be bursting with ideas for my writing.

Saturday Things

I got my first dose of the Moderna Covid-19 vaccine today. So far: soreness in arm, moderately bad headache, and fatigue. Otherwise, feeling okay.

My current project is a short story called, tentatively, “Things.” (Yes, I know. The title is completely un-evocative. It basically means nothing. However, there is a story-related reason why it’s called “Things,” but I realize that as titles go, it doesn’t grab anyone’s attention. So it’s a working title that will probably change once I’m done.)

I wanted to read a few hard-boiled short stories and watch a couple of films noir to get in the mood, but honestly, it’s been hard to find the time for any of that. I can watch certain old movies when my kids are around — musicals are usually safe, as are silent and screwball comedies — but film noir is one of those genres that is not appropriate for the under-six set.

Anyway, I watched so many films noir in my twenties and early thirties that I could recite many of them line-by-line, so it’s not like I don’t know the style and mood of these kinds of stories. But just for fun, I wanted to dive back in and reacquaint myself with these old friends. Maybe there’s still time. . . I’m only half-way finished with the story.  “Things” is one of those stories where I pretty much know the ending already, but I’m not sure yet how I’m going to get there or what it’s going to look like when I do. It’s a bit like knowing there’s going to be a car wreck, but not knowing how the bodies are going to end up. (Sorry, that was a morbid analogy!)

Today was also a great day because I made it through a week of using my new “habit schedule,” and so far, it’s been successful. Each day this week I’ve managed to carve out time to pray in the morning and before bed, read something spiritual (current books are the Pope’s new one and The Imitation of Christ), write in my writer’s notebook, read a book at lunchtime, enter grades/provide feedback to students, work on freelance editing stuff, exercise, stretch, and write something creative (either fiction or this blog). My not-every-day-but-a-few-times-a-week habits — doing some light cleaning, paying bills, and filing papers — were also a success.

I will say the methods outlined in James Clear’s Atomic Habits have been very helpful in this regard, particularly his advice to “make it easy” and “make it satisfying.” I use a habit tracker app on my phone (that’s the “make it satisfying” part), and I’ve rearranged a few things to make the habits easier.

For instance, before I go to bed at night, I make sure my writer’s notebook is sitting on the dining room table so that in the morning it’s ready for me to write in as I eat my breakfast. Another example of making it “easy” is that I put Swiffer dusters in various rooms around the house so I can just pick one up and start dusting if I have a spare moment. And finally, I set a daily alarm on my phone to ring when it’s time to enter grades and do freelance work. I’ve also tried to “habit stack,” where I tie a new habit to an existing one (like the habit of writing in my notebook while I’m eating my breakfast, or reading a book while I eat my lunch).

The one habit I might need to modify is the exercise one, because I used to exercise before I took my shower, but that made mornings too hectic, so I switched exercise to the afternoon, when I get home from work. However, that get-home-from-work time is quite busy too — the kids are excited to see me, I’ve got to change out of my work clothes and clean my lunch containers, start to prepare dinner, etc. — so my exercise time has been shorter than usual everyday this week (I’ve been breaking the “make it easy” rule). Maybe I need to move the exercise back to the morning and do it before my shower. . . (I hesitate to do this, though, because that means getting up earlier, and I’m already struggling to get up at 7:00 a.m.; 6:45 a.m. might be a bridge too far.)

Despite these few hiccups, I’m utterly pleased with how much I was able to get done this week, and with how much less stress I’ve had. I’m not particularly strict about my habit schedule as far as doing things at a very specific time, but I’ve found that having an outline for the day has given my life a pleasant rhythm. I know that I want to accomplish these various “little things,” and by doing them each day in small chunks, and at generally the same time each day, I’ve been able to accomplish quite a bit, even in just a week’s time.

Avoid Cliche

Today in class the students learned about cliche: what makes something cliche and how to avoid using cliche in one’s writing. The activity we did to practice avoiding cliche involved looking at a photo of a starry night sky and writing descriptions that avoided the obvious cliched descriptions like, “The stars shone like diamonds.”

(This lesson and activity, by the way, was taught by one of my students. They’ve all been taking turns teaching the class about literary/rhetorical terms and facilitating writing activities to reinforce the lessons.)

Since I try to write alongside my students, I too participated in the activity. My attempt was as follows: “The stars were flecks of milk painted on the faded gray of an old barn.”

I’m not sure I like this description, but it does make me laugh to think of the stars as flecks of milk. It’s definitely a weird way of describing something we typically think of as beautiful.

Anyway, I avoided using a cliche.

How to Feed the Ysbaddaden Muse

It’s no secret that I’ve been working on side projects lately instead of writing Ysbaddaden and the Game of Chess. I explained part of my anxieties already, but the other annoying thing about being away from a novel-in-progress is that everything’s been forgotten. I can’t remember what’s happened in the story or what I wanted to write about next.

I probably should keep a notepad nearby and record major events, arcs, settings, etc. (and proper names), but so far, I haven’t used that strategy.

So now, as I hope to reembark on my journey into the novel, I have to go back and reread at least the last three or four chapters. It’s not the end of the world, but all that rereading time is time spent NOT writing. And what I most desperately want is to be writing this novel, getting words on paper, and finishing it.

Maybe as I reread, I’ll do the notepad thing. If nothing else, it’ll save me time rereading next time I get in this situation.

Another thought I just had — unrelated to rereading my manuscript, but related to my slow-going with Ysbaddaden: Perhaps I haven’t been taking in the right input. I’ve been reading the pope’s new book, The Golem and the Jinni, C.S. Lewis’s Out of the Silent Planet, and I’m about to start reading Nella Larsen’s Passing (for my teaching work).

But maybe I need to mix things up and read/watch/listen to stuff that’ll feed my muse specifically for the Ysbaddaden story. Stuff like medieval Arthurian romances, Appendix N books, 80s fantasy movies, old school heavy metal and prog rock, The Smiths, comic books like The Sandman series. These are all influences on my Merlin’s Last Magic world, so maybe I need to go back to those influences and draw more sustenance from them. If nothing else, it’ll be a change of pace and that might shake something loose in my imagination.

Confessions

Look, the second book in my Merlin’s Last Magic trilogy is not finished.

It has been more than four years since The Thirteen Treasures of Britain came out. This is not something I’m proud of. I HATE that it’s taking me so long to finish.

Part of the problem is that I’ve written a lot of words, but they haven’t all stayed in the manuscript; by this point I’ve written well over 75,000 words, but only about 40,000 of them are usable. This has slowed things down.

What’s also slowed me down is lack of inspiration. I want the novel to be great, but so many of my ideas are not great. They are cliche, predictable, boring. Whenever I work on coming up with ideas, I end up coming up with ideas for other stories, other worlds, other novels.

It’s not like I haven’t been writing. I’ve written short stories, poems, blog posts, even several chapters of a novella. And I’ve been working on Ysbaddaden too. It’s just taking awhile.

I’m also blocked by my perfectionism. I freeze up and can’t write because I’m afraid that my writing will suck.

I wish I didn’t think of this novel as being “important.” That would help a lot. But since it’s been more than four years since my first book, I feel like this sequel has taken on importance just because the wait has been so long. I don’t want to be frozen by perfectionism. I don’t want to go another year without finishing this book.

I wish I had a snazzy pep-talk thing to tell myself so that I could blaze through the next few months and finish this novel. But I don’t have any snazzy pep-talk things to say. I know I need to sit down and put words on paper. I know I need to have the courage to write as well as I can and not worry what people will think. I know I need to somehow find the energy and time to get my work done. I know I will eventually finish, even if it’s not anytime soon. But I will finish, as long as I keep writing. That much I know.

 

Wide-Open Saturday

Today was one of those days where I had lots of plans — lots of stuff was gonna get done — and instead, I did practically nothing. I went to the grocery store; that was my big accomplishment. Also, I made some homemade hummus. Otherwise, all the essays I was going to critique, all the fiction I was going to write, all the editing work I was going to do: Nada.

I did manage to read a bit. I wrote in my notebook. But these little things — the reading, the notebooking, the hummus-making, the grocery shopping — they don’t add up to much. I know they’re good things to do, I’m glad I was able to do them, but they feel small. And today was my wide-open Saturday! The day my kids spend with Grandma and Grandpa. It was *the* time to Get Things Done. Instead, I did little things. Good things, important things, but little things. The “big things” — the projects, the assignments, the teaching and freelancing work — none of them fit into the day. Instead, I wrote a few pages in my notebook, ate breakfast with my kids, read some of Pope Francis’s new book, watched TV with my husband, made hummus, went shopping, went to mass, came home and ate dinner. A good day, and yet… and yet…

I don’t know. Maybe it was a good day, full stop. No regrets for the big things I didn’t get done. Maybe the expectation that I should use my “wide-open Saturday” to do “important” work is a misguided expectation. Is it really wrong to spend my free time with my husband, or make some homemade food to feed my family, or go shopping for groceries, or go to mass and worship God (the most important thing I’ll do all  week), or read a book, or just relax? The projects and assignments are still looming, and I’ll have to do them eventually, but for this one day, this one Saturday, the little things were worth it.

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