This weekend I am celebrating my birthday by moving from one apartment to another. But after that settles down, I’ll hammer out the changes to the blog. Then I’ll be concentrating much more on writing and much less and keeping the design up to date.

So for the time being, please pardon the mess.

However, in the past couple of months I have been writing more and more…but not on this blog. And I think I know why. I’m avoiding it. Almost everything in my life has been rewritten in the last six months. But this blog is the same. And I think it’s time to do something about it.

It’s time to redesign.

But I’m not sure what I want to do. As in the past I’m going to contract an artist to design some graphics, but what will they be.

So I’m tossing it out to anyone who’s still listening. Anyone have any bright ideas?

This is my first post in seven weeks. Sometimes real life rears it’s head and makes writing—and talking about writing—too hard to fit into the daily routine.

Before I continue I’d like to thank those that made my sabbatical possible. Jodi stepped in with only a hour or two notice to fill in for my first absence. Then Jodi and Annie sat me down—as much as that’s possible by email—and convinced me that I needed a break. All the regular writers pitched in to find replacements so that I didn’t have to worry about hurrying back. And of course thanks to those who filled my spot for the last six weeks: Jodi, Anne Whitaker, Annie, Icy Sedgwick and Joyce Mason.

So why the break? Well, much of it I’d rather not get into in a public forum…at least not the specifics. The last year has really heaped a lot onto an already full plate.

A suicide attempt by someone close to me, my step-kids moving away, worsening asthma, cluster headaches running out of control, stomach ulcers and depression (ranging from mild to severe, but never really going away), have all conspired not only to make daily life a challenge, but to make writing all but impossible.

My life today bears little resemblance to even two months ago. But changes can also bring opportunity. And those same friends who convinced me that it was OK to take a break from writing, have helped me see that by trying to get back into the habit of writing may help me rein in some of the chaos, but also help me deal with the thoughts and emotions that threaten to overwhelm me every day.

So that’s what I’m trying. Little by little I’m restructuring my life, with time set aside to do the things that are important to me, but for the last several years have gotten pushed aside. This blog is one of those things. My own blog as well. But even more important is simply giving myself time to write.

Maybe, someday, I can look at the events of the last few months with some perspective. Maybe I can use them, and the rush of sadness, fear and depression that I felt in my writing. Maybe.

For now, I’d be happy just to distract myself by getting back to the fundamentals—putting pen to paper—and actually writing something worthwhile.

Originally posted on where six writers talk about the trials and tribulations of their writing lives. And each Tuesday the soapbox belongs to me.

The rules are simple:

• List ten things you resolve not to do in the upcoming year.
• Be as creative as possible.

To get thing rolling, here are…

My 2010 New Year’s Anti-Resolutions

• I will not free up room to take in borders by convincing my kids to sleep in more “convenient” places—like the oven or bathtub.
• I will not try to spice up the Winter Olympics in my house, by convincing each family member that they were adopted from various cold-weather countries.
• I will not open job interviews by asking if I should have listed my RockBand Drum skills on my resume.
• I will not try to push day-glo sombreros as the next fashion trend.
• I will not hang around the seafood section of the grocery store trying to convince the patrons to throw their “catches” back.
• I will not attempt to create balance in the universe by making only left hand turns.
• I will not try to addict my kids to crystal-meth in order to take wagers on who can resist the longest.
• I will not try use my old boxer shorts as material for a “more interesting” type of quilt.
• I will not try to become famous by faking an Easter Bunny sighting by supplying a fake pelt as evidence.
• I will not use the ridiculous number of Slurpees I buy as justification to initiate a hostile takeover of the nearby convenience store.

Originally posted on where six writers talk about the trials and tribulations of their writing lives. And each Tuesday the soapbox belongs to me.

Right now, I’m working on a short story that’s giving me some trouble—for those of you playing along at home, this story is part of a compilation/collaboration with a few other authors on this site. The dialogue is tricky because…well, without getting into too much detail, it involves some characters that aren’t all there. This is all particularly maddening for two reasons. First, I usually have little trouble with dialogue. Second, this story relies almost entirely on dialogue, so if I can’t get the dialogue to work, the story will fall flat.

Generally, I don’t have too much trouble with my characters and what they say. Oh, the overall story may be giving me trouble, but that’s more of a story-direction problem than it is a problem of speech not sounding authentic.

So what’s an author to do? Aside from the most obvious solution—keep tinkering with the dialogue—I’ve come up with a few techniques to help myself out. Unfortunately, they’ve all fallen just as flat as my character’s voices. But a couple of days ago I stumbled upon a technique that’s helping quite a bit. And even if it’s not solving the problem, it’s making the tinkering much easier.

Several years back, someone in an online writing group I was part of posted an exercise: Write a short story of indeterminate length, with two characters, and nothing but dialogue—not even dialogue tags. The only attribution we were allowed was to write the story in play format—minus any stage directions (the results of that exercise can be seen here). I had quite a bit of fun with that exercise, and over the years I have tackled several writing prompts with the same approach.

So, a couple of days ago, on a whim, I decided to try this approach with my current draft. I spent a couple of hours stripping away everything except the spoken word. And once that was done, it was obvious why the story wasn’t quite up to snuff—the dialogue was flat in several places. Where I thought there was cute banter, there was nothing more than dry Q&A. Where I thought I was being circumspect, I wasn’t.

So now the problem is clear. My dialogue seems not-quite-up-to-snuff because I’m relying on exposition and narration to get me through the rough spots.

But now, stripped of all it’s cruft (it’s a techie term, look it up if you need to—call it a word for the day) not only were the problem spots apparent, but fixing them became drastically easier. Now, if I need to change what Character-X says I don’t have to worry about what it does to my precious sentence that I’m so attached to—that decision will come later.

So far it hasn’t been a panacea, but it’s given me an avenue of attack.

If you have a talk-heavy story that’s got you banging your head against a wall, try it out. I’d be terribly interested to know how it works for you.

Aside from fighting with the dialogue in his current story, Dale is also fighting a nasty bout of cluster headaches. If anyone thinks they have a future as a superhero who fights uninspired prose AND crippling headaches, he’s happily accepting applications.

Originally posted on where six writers talk about the trials and tribulations of their writing lives. And each Tuesday the soapbox belongs to me.

When that thought first sprung to mind I nearly dismissed it. It’s patently ridiculous to think that a practice about writing wouldn’t develop it’s own insular tech-speak. But after thinking more about it, it makes perfect sense.

I don’t think I’m going too far out on a limb to say that over the years I’ve dabbled in some obscure hobbies—Archery, Fencing, Role-Playing, Printmaking, Paintball, Bagpipes, Heraldry and most recently, the Harmonica. And each of these has a long list of specialty vocabulary. Truth be told, it’s one of thing I like about some of these activities…

Archery — riser, cresting, draw, doinkers, fistmele, fletching, quiver, tiller, nock
Fencing — florentine, coup lance, epee, parry, florentine
Printmaking — intaglio, gravure, pochoir, restrike, vignette
Bagpipes — birl, cran, chanter, drone, grace notes, leumluath, piobaireachd, taorluath
Heraldry — abatement, cadency, clarion, escutcheon, jessant-de-lys, rampant, talbot (I could go on for close to a thousand words as classical heraldry uses Norman French)
Harmonica — ionian, myxolydian, dorian, aeolian, glissando, pentatonic, tremolo, riff, trill

The specialized language of is a function of both small societies, and society as a whole. Fencers aren’t overly concerned about being understood by hundreds of thousand of people, because there are only a few thousand people interested in it. So if someone comes up with a term that is less than obvious, it will only benefit those who take the time to learn it. As a side effect it also helps create a camaraderie among those in the group.

With writing however the reverse is in effect. Our sole purpose is to be read and to be understood. To create specialized language is self-defeating, for who will take the time to decipher a story in a language that makes them feel alienated. Also, writers have a natural aversion to creating new words for things when a word almost certainly already exists.

Certainly there are exceptions to this. Writing has a few words we use more often than others, or words that have meanings more specific to writers than to general readers. There are also a few authors who we revere for their ability to make up new words—Shakespeare and Dr. Seuss, come to mind immediately.

What hobbies do you have (or have had through the years)? Do they have their own lingo?

The image at the top of the post was created with a free service called Wordle. With it you can create a similar picture using your website (or any text you choose) to create an image in a variety of different colors and styles.

Originally posted on where six writers talk about the trials and tribulations of their writing lives. And each Tuesday the soapbox belongs to me.

I have two children in middle school, and in English they are focusing a good deal on improving the quality of their writing. And this year their teacher has chosen to include peer review as part of that process. So now my children are learning about critiquing, and it’s not the easiest lesson.

The teacher gave the students a handful of lessons on the different aspects of critiquing. Like Annie she focused on the technical aspects of critiquing—how to make sure your criticism is targeted and helpful. However, in helping my kids critique the work of other students I realized that the teacher’s instruction neglected the emotional side of critiquing—how to make sure your criticism is well received.

There is only one good reason for critiquing the work of another author—to help them improve their writing. In my experience, very few authors understand this.

In my writing career I’ve had many opportunities to have my work looked over by other. Writing classes, writing groups and online writing groups all use peer critiquing as a critical component of their format. But not all participants come to the desk with the proper mindset.

In writing classes, students often attempt to tear down others’ work to make their own look better by comparison. On the other hand, common in writing groups, are drive by authors who are only members long enough to get their own work critiqued. Some have developed rules or point systems to ensure that authors must critique a certain number of stories before submitting their own for discussion, which can, in turn, lead to authors who submit shallow, superficial critiques, just to inflate their numbers.

If you can’t pick up another author’s work with the intent—nee desire—to help them write better, to give them your honest, thoughtful view of their hard work, then don’t critique their work.

But even if you have the right purpose in your heart, it’s still easy to deliver a devastating critique, by giving your advice in a less than constructive manner.

Some guidelines I have found over the years (often through trial and error):

1. Don’t rush: The author didn’t rush in writing it, so you should give them the same courtesy. If a writer realizes that you spent 15 minutes critiquing a 15 page story, they’re likely to feel cheated.
2. Give positive reinforcement: In even the worst writing, there are good points. If you find yourself getting too negative, take some time and focus on something the author did well. We all have fragile egos (you, too).
3. Give criticism: And in even the best writing, there are things that need improvement. Don’t sugar-coat things. You can be honest without being harsh.
4. Don’t try to be funny: When we have some tough love to hand out we often think it tempers the pain if we tell a joke. But especially for critiques delivered in writing, they can’t see or hear your nuance, and if they take you good-natured jibe the wrong way, they may think that you’re making fun of them.
5. Don’t take yourself too seriously: You’re no Hemingway yourself. When your critiquing someone else, you’re not doing it for your own ego, so check it at the door.
6. When you give advice, give your reasons: Authors are often trying to elicit responses, hide clues, leave breadcrumbs. If you suggest they lose the extra character, tell them why. Your reasons may wind up being much more helpful than your actual advice.
7. Don’t get upset when they don’t take your advice: Whether they are too immature to accept your advice, or whether they merely disagree with you there will be times when they don’t like the changes you suggest. No big deal, you’re just offering your opinion, and you were glad to help.

Can you add to this list? What advice would you give to a critiquer who wants to make sure the author hears what they’re saying?

This post was originally posted on Write Anything—
where six writers talk about the trials and
tribulations of their writing lives. And each
Tuesday the soapbox belongs to me.

So it was a nice surprise a few days ago when I got little assistance from an unexpected source. Smashing Design is a site I’ve followed for a couple of years now that gives excellent tips and techniques for web design. They’re always giving out freebies (like icon sets) and compiling helpful lists (like 25 hacks for your WordPress blog). It’s definitely one of those sites that can get a blogger lost in the nuts and bolts of keeping a blog up and running instead of focusing on writing.

But a few days ago, Smashing Magazine published 50 Free Resources That Will Improve Your Writing Skills. It’s a actually a fairly comprehensive list of 50 websites that focus on the basics, like grammar and punctuation, and moving through some fairly technical tools that can check the readability of you blog.

I haven’t yet browsed through all 50 of the sites, but I have forwarded the site to my kids with the warning that their blogs were created to help them experiment with and improve their writing—and maybe it’s time they get started.

This post was originally posted on Write Anything—
where six writers talk about the trials and
tribulations of their writing lives. And each
Tuesday the soapbox belongs to me.

It’s important—perhaps even critical—for a writer to find a place that stimulates and nurtures his creativity. If you’re lucky enough you’re ideal spot will be at home. But Paul detailed the greatest threat to this set-up—the immediacy of the internet. Add to that a family, or the lack thereof, and the home office may be anything but creative.

So where does one write?

In a frightful nod to the cliché the best place for me to write has always been a café.

The most creative times in my life have been spent inside cheap—inexpensive, not run-down—restaurants. The Wag’s (if you never had Wag’s in your area, it’s not far removed from a Denny’s) on Biscayne Boulevard, down the street from the University, saw an incredible number of late-night pencil-and-paper sessions. And not just creative sessions, but study sessions of all sorts.

The café in question (although if you’ve ever been to a Wag’s you’ll know that café is a more than generous term) had the misfortune of having all the traits that make a location perfect for me:

• Open 24 Hours: Truth be told I could have cared less about the sunrise to sunset hours. But it was happily open for my mt creative hours.
• Busy: That is to say there was plenty of activity. A nice steady din is critical to a creative environment, and the groups of people coming and going allowed for plenty of people-watching and lent their quirks to more than a few characters.
• But Not too Busy: So I didn’t have to feel guilty for tying up a table for hours at a time, and I could always get a big table to spread out my papers and textbooks.
• Cheap Food: Dinner a drink and tip all for about $10.
• Good Air Conditioning: In Miami, when the dorms don’t have adequate air conditioning this is not a minor point.
• Waitresses: They were nice enough, kept the iced tea filled, and weren’t attractive enough to be distracting.

I list these reasons (well…hopefully because it’s at least mildly amusing) not under any assumption that the reasons will apply to you, but because Jodi asked us what our ideal writing space would be.

I don’t understand people who can write in a beautiful vacation spot. How Thoreau got any work at all done at Walden Pond baffles me. I’d spend my time sleeping in, hiking, maybe fishing…anything but working. But that’s me. My “café” wouldn’t be your ideal environment, and your writer’s retreat would be a terrible drain on my will to write.

But both Paul and Jodi are correct It’s vital that you determine what you need to be creative, and that you find—or create—a place that fits your needs.

Writers generally aren’t allowed many clichés, but we all have a few tucked away in a drawer somewhere. Writing in a café is one of mine.

This post was originally posted on Write Anything—
where six writers talk about the trials and
tribulations of their writing lives. And each
Tuesday the soapbox belongs to me.

Three days ago I saw a post-it note stuck to a cash register that violated several of the rules I try to follow, so the topic has been on my mind. An with Jodi’s urging yesterday to look back, I thought today might be a good day to examine some of my rules.

Here is a partial list of my writing rules—rules wielded with the understanding that I’m free to break them as long as I have a good reason:

• You get 3 exclamation points in your writing career—use them wisely: a college Prof enforced this one more than literally, striking down every exclamation mark submitted in his class. His reasoning was solid even if his execution was a little fanatical. He thought that if a sentence, whether dialogue or exposition, needed an exclamation to make its point then the sentence needed some work. Since then I have never consciously used an exclamation mark.
• A writer’s knowledge should be an inch deep and a mile wide: that is to say we need to be able to speak—or write—conversantly about many, many subjects, but rarely is in-depth information needed, at which point we can research said subject. This was actually handed down by an advertising professor, but I’ve adapted it to writing if for no other reason than it gives me an excuse to read a variety of books on many, many subjects.
• To write snappy dialogue immediately throw out the first response: If we write dialogue the way it’s actually spoken, we would bore our readers nearly to death. The ums and ahs along with the simple one word answers of everyday speech may be informative but good writing it is not. When a character asks a question, throw out the simple yes or no answer, and give an answer with more depth, emotion, information, or whatever else your scene needs and your dialogue can supply.
• Do not curse: This one is adapted from advice my father gave me. There’s nothing wrong with cursing per se, but more often than not it’s a a way to cover up bad writing (or bad speaking as it was presented to me). It’s not that I don’t allow my characters to curse—characters have their own semi-free will and they will largely do what they will—but when the writer speaks I will not use profanity unless there really is no other way to say it.

What rules have you scraped together over the years?

This post was originally posted on Write Anything—
where six writers talk about the trials and
tribulations of their writing lives. And each
Tuesday the soapbox belongs to me.