It's Easier to Grow When You Make It Fun

It's not a national holiday (yet), but today is my younger sister's birthday. And because of that, we're going to kick off our month-long discussion about growth by starting here: 

With fun.

Why? Because my younger sister was born with the motto: Let's make it fun. (Whereas I tend to focus in on projects with an unconscious motto of Let's make it GRIM.)

When she decided that she wanted to learn how to cook, she transformed herself (over the period of a few years, sure) from someone who did very little in the kitchen, to a darned fine home cook. 

1. She found people that she was excited to learn from. She subscribed to a fun food magazine and immersed herself in the Food Network, printing up the recipes that caught her attention each day. 

2. She was obsessed with getting the best tools she could... and she got them in bright red: her favorite color. Because high quality can be fun, too.

3. She practiced. A lot. She kept going even when a recipe was a bust. And she stretched into the areas she was most excited to learn.

All right, it's pretty straightforward, right? And some of you might have this learning style already. But for those of you who come at new skills with a LET'S MAKE IT GRIM mentality, well--we're in the same boat.

Let's see if we can't learn from my sister's tricks.

1. Who would you be excited to learn from? Who is writing well, or teaching how to write well, but doing it with an attitude that you admire? 

I've developed a really low tolerance for learning from people who seem to be yelling at me. Know what I mean? I don't need to be reminded that writing is hard, or that I'll never learn everything I can about this craft. I don't need a grumpy teacher.

This is why I talk up Heather Sellers' book so much: because her attitude is so grace-based. And Eric Maisel is massively encouraging, so he's a good one too. Barbara Abercrombie and Judy Reeves are favorites for the same reason.

And what about blogs and websites? I've recently discovered Writerology, She's Novel, Eva Deverell, K.M. Weiland, and Joanna Penn, all talented writers whose attitudes are encouraging and you-can-do-it, while still being wonderfully helpful.

2. How can you get the best tools in the best colors? 

Some of this means your environment: How would your writing space react to the idea of growing and learning? Do you have a brittle work area, a place that's only geared toward one thing? 

Or can you drag reference books across your desk? Do you have places where you can tack up inspiring quotes or mood boards for characters? Do you need to buy yourself some quirky blank notebooks, some astonishingly lovely pens? 

Austin Kleon recommends having an "analog" area in your work space, a place where you get to deal with real paper and real pens and markers and scissors... the physical, tactile side of creation. Even if you prefer to write on your computer, consider creating a place where you can actually touch the tools of creation, trace letters with your fingertips, and use the smelly markers.

But the other side of the tool question is this: What are you working on?

I've caught myself using subjects I don't like to practice skills I'm not good at. Friends, it is a BAD COMBO.

Like: researching something I really don't care about. Doing a writing exercise with a subject that doesn't make my heart skip a beat. Working on dialogue with a character that I didn't like. 

Yikes! We owe it to ourselves to write about what we love, to bring our passions right in to our writing exercises, and to making our characters profoundly NOT boring. 

3. Practice taking a lighthearted view of failure. Counter it by continuing to stretch.

Perspective goes a long, long way when you're learning something new, when you're growing a skill. 

Do you make everything a life-or-death issue? Because--as you know by now--I tend to do that.

I've always admired how my younger sister can shrug off difficulties more easily than I do. Sure, when a recipe didn't work out, she didn't like eating a mediocre meal. But it wasn't the end of her world, either.

And besides, she'd also tried some cupcakes to follow. And those just might have turned out to be a win.

Can we borrow that attitude with our failed attempts? The crappy paragraphs that aimed so high and didn't make it? The writing exercises that came out all cramped and muddied?

Can we tell ourselves that it's not the end of the world. There's revision. There's another try. There are new techniques. There are other paragraphs. And tomorrow is a new day.

Challenge yourself. Refuse to think: I HAVE ZERO TALENT, I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS.

Let's be more like my sister. And let's say, "There are always cupcakes."

How to Grow When You'd Rather Not

Growth is one of those ideas that it's pretty easy to get excited about. I mean, it's spring up here in the northern hemisphere. The leaves are all young and fresh, and flowers are being flowers, and the lawn mowers are droning all day.

Spring. Growth. It's a good season, right? 

Which is why it sounds like a great topic to blog about in May. Let's talk all things growth, I thought, feeling adventurous and wholesome.

Then I thought: Oh, crap. Would that mean I'd actually have to grow???

(Hands up if you're with me on this.)

I like the idea of growing. Of getting better. I really, really do.

I mean--that's everything I'm about.

But at the same time: I'm so tired. And the word "growth" starts to sound like "one more thing to do."

And while I'm shooting this theme in the foot, why not keep going? Here are the reasons why I'm not interested in growing:

• Face it, I'm pretty comfortable with how things are. 

• This works well enough for now. I can make do.

• I'm too distracted, too many things going on.

• What else would I have to change? What would I have to give up or do differently?

• It's a hassle. I'm anti-hassle.

• Growth is messy and untidy and awkward. And I already did adolescence once, so let's not.

• Daredevil is on Netflix. 

I know that those are all bad answers. Even the ones that feel/are true.

Because if I'm not growing--not absorbing nutrients, then pushing out in active growth, steadying myself through rest, and then pushing out again--if I'm not up in that whole cycle...

Then I'm probably doing something else. Something Not Good. 

Honestly, I doubt that "Become Stagnant" is on anyone's to-do list as a writer. And (unless you're a cavity) "Decay" probably isn't on there either.

So theoretically, at least, we can all agree that growth is a good idea.

So how do we reconcile that with the above list? The hassles, the distraction, the awkwardness?

By aiming ourselves at quiet growth. At the slow continuous stretch. At incremental change.

Not at big, flashy, time-lapse-photography kind of growth. It doesn't have to be a huge disruption; it doesn't have to be all or nothing.

Can we avoid going stagnant, can we avoid getting dull as writers, without burning ourselves out, either?

I'm voting for YES. 

Let's look for ways that we can slip subtle, quiet, steady growth into our routines. Ways to make growth a habit, to keep it manageable, to stay nurtured, but to keep stretching nevertheless. 

Heck, maybe we'll even grow at growing. Is that a thing? Can I say that?

Because my overarching career goal is: Write a better story than the last one.

And as far as I can tell, that translates to: Always be growing.

So let's stretch a little this May. 

How to Build a Moat Around Your Writing Life

Novels-in-progress are incredibly fragile things. Can we agree on that? 

When you're walking around with a novel in your brain, you're carrying this precious ethereal bundle of impressions and insights and ideas--scraps of dialogue, exquisite gestures, emotional through-lines, motivations, pacing--

And the rest of your life clamors around with air horns and parade bands.

Amiright??

Here's what we have to do, if we really want to write these novels. If we really want to give birth to the ideas in our brains.

We have to build a moat around our writing lives.

Twyla Tharp calls this The Bubble. Heather Sellers calls it Surround Sound. And I'm thinking in terms of moats full of alligators and very dangerous-looking algae.

But whatever metaphor you want, it looks like this:

When you're inside it, you can hear your novel's voice. You can hear it breathe. You're insulated from all the other things that you have to pay attention to or care about in a day. And for now, it's just you, and the living book.

It's a magical place. You feel like you can stop fighting. It's a place of nearly-pure focus.

Listen to how Twyla Tharp talks about it:

"You are coming close to an ideal creative state, one where creativity becomes a self-perpetuating habit. You are linking your art. Everything in your life feeds into your work, and the work feeds into more work." -- The Creative Habit

How seriously beautiful is that? 

Here's how Heather Sellers describes it:

"Think of writing a book as like buying one of those speaker systems that envelop you in sound. No matter where you are, you are surrounded. Similarly, you must allow the book you're writing to wrap itself around you and permeate every single part of your life. Your book should always be running in the background of your mind, even when you aren't literally putting words on paper in your studio." -- Chapter After Chapter

But how do we create that kind of environment? How do we get there?

I found my way into a well-moated writing life because I was having trouble breathing. 

I don't mean that metaphorically. I mean I had pneumonia. So for a couple of months, I was stretched out on a recliner, with zero physical energy and crud in my lungs.

I canceled my commitments, scrapped my plans. Realized that I would be pretty much useless for anything or to anyone.

And I was all set for some major self-pity wallowing... when it hit me that I had just found the ideal writing life.

Right? I couldn't go anywhere or do anything except hold down that recliner, nap, and scribble. 

So that's what I did. 

For the actual writing, I got my sick little fingers on a bunch of index cards. (I LOVE writing on index cards. They're so portable, so approachable. Not nearly as daunting as a spiral notebook.)

I balanced them on the arm rests of the recliner, and I wrote a daily quota of eleven index cards, front and back. I could fill a card; take a nap. Write another one; take another nap.

In the evenings, when the day's cards were full, I read books about writing. I took notes, talking back to the books. I thought of it as my own, private writer's retreat.

All the small parts of my day seemed to surround the book, and shelter the process of working. 

I wrote an incredibly solid first draft of that novel. And in spite of all the gasping, it's one of my favorite-ever drafting experiences.

Hopefully you don't have to wait for a case of walking pneumonia to create a writing bubble, a writing moat.

All you need to do is find a way to stay more in the work than out of it. 

How can we do this in miniature?

Well, it doesn't have to be big and dramatic: no lung x-rays required.

Instead it might be a string of little habits, little triggers, little writing rituals, that create a benevolent moat--protecting your one and only writing life.

- Surround yourself with things that make you think of your book. Words, sure, but also pictures photographs of characters or related imagery. Little trinkets and touchstones. Quotes from your characters. 

- Start writing when you get up, just a few sentences. Write before you fall asleep, a paragraph or two. James Scott Bell recommends writing down a question, whatever it is you're stumped on, before you fall asleep, and see if your brain has come up with an answer for you when you get up.

- Turn your lunch break into a writing bubble by reading bit of writing advice, writing a poem or a mini-essay, and then reading a bit of fiction.

- Stay connected to the writing world by listening to essays and podcasts about writing as you clean, as you cook, as you go for a jog.

- Have a collector's mind, everywhere you go. Look at the weather, at the scene outside your window, at the faces you pass by. Consider the sound of voices, the feel of words spoken around you, the incidental noise. Measure and taste everything that comes your way. Think in terms of what will I use, what goes into the book? 

- Or, you could go big and dramatic. You could block off a four-day weekend, be unaccessible to everyone, and just bury yourself in your work. Warm up with writing exercises, take long walks with your notebook, spend your afternoons diving deeper into your work.

... You could even diagnose yourself with a case of writer's pneumonia. It's a very serious sickness, and the only way to heal--and breathe freely again!--is this: To write your book. 

(I'm just imagining all of us turning down commitments like this: "No, I'm so sorry, it's a very worthy cause and all, but I have this book in my brain, and it's spreading to my lungs, and so I can't breathe. Maybe in a few months??" ... Actually, I'm pretty sure this is a legitimate disease. It sounds familiar, doesn't it??)

Whether you make a big dramatic moat around your days, or whether you find small bubbles of time that protect your book, it comes down to this:

Aiming ourselves at stories. Pointing our energy and our time toward words, toward writing, toward creativity, rather than away. 

Ooooh. Just think what would happen if we did that. Just think what we could write!

Use Your Obscurity to Become Staggeringly Good

If you're already on your way to being a household name, you can skip this post. But for the rest of us, I have a question:

How do you feel about being unknown? 

When I dove into writing full time, I had one goal: Proving myself.

For me, that meant being published by a well-known publisher. I needed to write a novel in a year flat, and then get picked up by an agent, and then a publisher. And I needed it yesterday.

I wanted three novels published before I turned thirty.

(Spoiler alert: I'm thirty now. No novels published. Don't tell my former self, because she would flip.)

I had an allergic reaction to the thought of waiting. Massive anxiety struck whenever I heard that it could take three years, or seven, or ten. I don't have ten years! I thought. I need to be making a career now!

I spent way too many days hating the fact that: it takes time to get good. It takes time to write something worthwhile. And it takes time to get published.

I thought that all that time was my career's biggest enemy. And now?

Well, now it feels more like a secret weapon.

Because I finally realized that I can take full advantage of this season of obscurity.

I'm using it to get better.

Like... a lot. A lot better.

I'm using these quiet, off-stage years to work on building a better story and building a better character.

BUILDING A BETTER STORY. Ever notice how the first solutions you use in writing--the first words, the first images--tend to be clichés? Well, this was true of my entire first novel. 

The whole thing was one whopping cliché.

I didn't even notice as I was writing it (so quickly, so desperately). I regurgitated years of reading in one big unreadable book. 

I actually fell asleep when I reread it.

The thing about rushing, the thing about being in a panic to be done, to be published, to be chosen, is that you stop asking good questions. You stop considering new paths. You stop taking risks. You stop exploring.

Frantic writing doesn't make for fascinating stories.

What if we honor our obscurity by:

• experimenting with different genres

• playing around with new subject matter

• exploring our own history, and writing it out as stories

• taking risks in our style, voice, format

• daring to write what's on our hearts

• getting crazy-good at all the most essential elements of the craft

• reading like fiends

• annihilating clichés in our work

• diving deeper with our chosen subject matter

• researching like pros

BUILDING A BETTER CHARACTER. Yeah, not my cast of characters, but my character. Me. The who behind the writer that I am.

Can we be real for a sec? Waiting for something--waiting for something that you want very, very badly--has a way of exposing your personality.

When all I focused on was Getting The Thing That I Wanted--well, it wasn't cute.

I became the most selfish, fragile, and demanding version of myself. And oh, you couldn't even tell me that someone else just got published. Don't even try.

Here's a free tip: Selfish, fragile, demanding people do not write awesome books.

If all we do is practice various ways of saying I SHOULD BE PUBLISHED, then that's what our message is going to boil down to.

Me. MEEEEEE. Look at me. Praise me. Pat my head. Give me money. Clap for me. Because I deserve it.

That is not a great message for a book.

Also not great for a platform, a networking session, or a career.

Heck, I don't even like seeing it typed out there on this blog post.

The words that we say the most: those are the words that will end up being our message. That's what we'll be known for. 

The stuff we say in our heads, the words we mutter to our friends, the tweets we post, the Facebook exchanges... we're practicing our message all along. And we're creating our character every step of the way.

My goal: I don't want to be a self-obsessed jerk.

I finally realized that I can stomp around and be frustrated; I can feed envy and discontent and let them bleed me to death.

Or, I could see this as my chance. My chance to lean in, to grow, and to get better. To figure out generosity, gratitude, and courage. To value the people around me instead of seeing them as interruptions. To get better at celebrating, better at loving.

It's actually an opportunity, this whole obscurity thing.

There will be pressure enough later. Can we learn as much as we can about ourselves, our voices, our craft, our genre, our material, before the pressure is really on? 

And can we practice being the kind of person who has more to say than "look at me"?

Because the day will come when we find ourselves on a stage.

And if we use our obscurity right, we'll have a better story, a better message, and a better character to handle whatever fame and whatever fortune we get.

Twelve Mysteries for Your Next Rainy Day

Mysteries and rainy days just go together. Like Sherlock and Watson, like London and fog, like coffee and ... a lot more coffee. 

I've learned not to fight it. 

Actually, when I hear thunder breaking overhead, I get my feet tangled in my scramble to grab the nearest Agatha Christie.

I've heard someone say that, at its heart, every novel is actually a mystery.

And I love that definition. I certainly think it's true: at least from a writer's point of view. You're faced with so many mysteries: unraveling the characters, their motivations, the history of the story world, and then of course, how the plot works its way out. 

Even though the book I'm writing would never be classified as a mystery: that's what I feel like I'm writing, most days. When it's going well, I feel like I'm solving the mystery of the story itself.

Writers as sleuths. I like that.

Maybe this is why I read and watch more mysteries than any other genre. 

If you're looking for a good one, here's a list of twelve of my favorites:

1. The Nero Wolfe mysteries, by Rex Stout. (Because I want to marry Archie Goodwin. I do. Fiction or not, I feel sure that we can work this out. ... Book-wise, I'm especially fond of The League of Frightened Gentlemen.)

2. Green for Danger, by Christianna Brand (World War Two, bombs falling over a hospital, patients dying mysteriously during surgery... So. Good.)

3. Mary Stewart wrote mysterious romantic suspense, which reads superbly on damp dark days. Pick up Nine Coaches Waiting, especially if you're a fan of Jane Eyre.

4. Alan Bradley's Flavia de Luce series is ridiculously fun: she's an eleven-year-old chemist, she's hilarious, and she keeps solving mysteries. (The series is for us grown-ups though, not kids.) Of the first four, number one is still my favorite: The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie. 

I wish I could say my heart was stricken, but it wasn't. I wish I could say my instinct was to run away, but that would not be true. Instead, I watched in awe, savoring every detail. ... Then the utter stillness. I wish I could say I was afraid, but I wasn't. -- Alan Bradley / The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie

5. Some Danger Involved by Will Thomas. Excellent if you like Sherlock Holmes era mysteries, but are ready for some new characters.

6. Speaking of which... The Complete Sherlock Holmes. Of course. Obviously. Of course.

Peering through the gloom, I saw the vague outline of a man, a shade blacker than the blackness of the open door. He stood for an instant, and then he crept forward, crouching, menacing, into the room. He was within three yards of us, this sinister figure, and I had braced myself to meet his spring. -- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle / "The Adventure of the Empty House"

7, 8, & 9. And as far as obvious choices go: It is impossible to pick a favorite Agatha Christie. Right? I "narrowed it down" to: And Then There Were None (for most goosebumps while reading), Murder on the Orient Express (for sublimeness, for perfect murder, for happening on a train, and for this screen version), and Death on the Nile (because everything... check out the movie too). 

10 &11. If you want sweeping scope, layered narratives, gloomy landscapes, dark secrets, brooding family estates--basically if you want the best sort of thing for a thunderstormy day--then check out Wilkie Collins's The Woman in White (!!!!) and The Moonstone. 

12. Last but not least: Brat Farrar by Josephine Tey. I couldn't stop talking about this one when I finished it. (I just love the set-up: the story of an impostor who begins to unravel a family mystery...)

There have been doubles before. Hitler had several. Lots of famous people have doubles. The papers are forever printing photographs of the humble doubles of great men. They all look like the great men with the character sponged out. -- Josephine Tey / Brat Farrar

There you have it. An easy dozen for the next time you see thunderstorms in the forecast. 

Obviously I've left out only about two hundred excellent recommendations... (I didn't even mention Ellery Queen! How did that happen?! And has anyone else watched The Bletchley Circle?)

Care to fill in the gaps? What are your favorite mysteries to read or watch? I'd love some new titles to check out!

Escaping the Rut You Didn't Know You Were In

When I reread my current work-in-progress draft, I realized how often I set scenes in the rain. 

Um: so many times. 

And the rain isn't much of an obstacle, either. More of a mood-setter. An atmospheric thing.

When I stepped back and looked at the draft as a whole, I could see what was happening: when the action was slowing, or when it was about to build, I thought: let's make this scene stand out. Let's make it a little different.

And I hauled out the rain machines.

What I didn't realize as I was drafting: my "little different" was actually the SAME THING. 

EVERY TIME. 

(Okay, once I used sleet, but still. That's a lot of rain.)

It didn't turn into a big obstacle: no one got hypothermia, no one came close to drowning, and there were no floods. Not even a really significant puddle experience.

It was just my way of shaking things up. Without--it turns out--shaking them up at all.

Creative rut alert.

So I took two minutes and brainstormed other ways to mess with weather and atmospherics. There's gotta be more than just rain, right?

Here's what I came up with: 

• storm rolling in, so the sky is all green and the air feels troubled and uncomfortable... gloomy-dark clouds, a tree creaking

• what about a bird storm? too many birds. oooh, starling murmurations!

• hail! the characters are outside a lot: hail would hurt. 

• what about wind? strong destructive winds, slight winds, a breeze bringing cobwebs with it, wispy seeds blowing by on a bright day

• unusual cloud formations: anvil head clouds, mackerel skies, red clouds at night

• what about floods, mudslides, uprooted trees, sinkholes? 

• forest fire...

• solar eclipse, lunar eclipse 

• a meteor shower, meteorite falling to earth, a convenient little UFO

Obviously I still had rain on the brain, but I also uncovered some more interesting ideas. Starling murmurations! That would totally suit my story.

I love a good excuse to go on a list-making tear. So I started looking around my stories for other places where I was stuck in a mini-rut.

Guess what. I found a few others.

• I give fun characters red hair. All the fun characters. All the red hair. Whoops.

• Mysterious characters get gray eyes. I like mystery. There are way too many gray-eyed people in these stories!

• And, I'm embarrassed to say, I was so intrigued by the idea of a one-armed man, that I have one-armed characters in four of my six novels. Yikes. 

When we're in the thick of drafting, it's so easy to keep reaching for the same solutions over and over. Without even noticing that our favorite solutions are looking a bit... worn out.

So here's your Wednesday writing challenge: where do you fall back on the same way of shaking things up? What have you been overusing?

Take a few minutes and brainstorm new options for yourself.

It doesn't take long. (Plus it's pretty fun.)

And the next time you're drafting and need some pizazz, you already have your material. How nice is that?

You will feel like total genius. 

Future You is already saying thanks.

Why You'll Have a Dance Party After Reading This post

Mix up your writing day, shed that crappy mood, and fire up your creativity--by moving around.

To music.

Right now.

Some people call this dancing.

We're all pretty aware of exercise's physical benefits. (Unless you've been living under a rock. In which case, you also haven't been working out much.)

Seriously, though: it's too easy to forget that we live in our most important writing machine. It's our bodies that do all that writing and reading. Our ten typing fingers, our bloodshot eyes, our aching necks.

We've got to honor these word-loving bodies of ours. 

And then, all our dizzyingly creative brains: they need some love and support too, right?

Those words and ideas and bits of genius dialogue don't come out of thin air. We're brewing them in our brains. They're hanging out with our moods. Scuffling around in our memories. 

Can we all agree to love on our mental processes with some exercise? (Because seriously, the mental benefits of exercise are super-huge.)

So, if you're already in an exercise routine, good for you. Yay for gyms and running shoes and DVDs and whatever else it is that gets you moving.

But I'd also say: use your writing breaks to move. Your writing will love you for it. 

And why not dance, which is pretty much the funnest way to move ever. (I just said funnest. It's okay.)

Crank the tunes and shake it for ten minutes.

It's simple. You can do it right there. You don't need to change clothes or make a huge plan or overcomplicate it. You can do something super brilliant for your writing, your words, your body, your self, right now. 

Dance when you're stuck. When you've been sitting for an hour. When you've been overthinking it.

Dance when you feel a MOOD coming on. When you're in a creative rut. When all you're doing is snarling. 

When you take a break, when you need a change, when you want to eat all the chocolate: dance.

Oh, and don't even tell me that you're a bad dancer. Please. I am The Worst of Dancers, and I have my own little dance parties all the time. (I danced all through the process of writing this post, for instance.)

Because there's this, too, my lionhearted friend:

If you can't dance awkwardly and foolishly at your writing space when no one is looking at you, then how can you write your awkward and foolish drafts that no one else will read?

We gotta practice bravery some time, right? 

So be a bit foolish. Be a bit crazy. Get your heart pumping. Embrace your awkward. 

And welcome the words when you're done.

Okay?

Here. Get some fantastic inspiration from Love Actually and Hitch. (Because I couldn't resist. I really couldn't. And because our Mondays needed that.)

Good? Yeah. I thought so. Me too.

Time for us both to step away from the screen, and dance it out.

You and me. Really. Right now.

(Take that, Monday.)

28 Tricks for Tough Writing Days

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

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

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

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

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

Ready? Have fun!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And try again tomorrow.

Can We Stop Being Weird About Writer's Block?

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

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

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

Oof. No. That's not what it means. 

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

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

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

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

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

The Small Blocks

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

What that might mean:

• This is hard.

• I'm not prepared.

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

• Chocolate.

What you can do about it:

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

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

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

• Eat the chocolate. Always. 

The Medium Blocks

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

What that might mean:

• I'm not going to make the deadline.

• I'm panicking.

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

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

What you can do about it:

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

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

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

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

The Large Blocks

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

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

What that might mean:

• I'm in a state of total exhaustion.

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

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

What you can do about it:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Super Grown-up Anti-Fear Technique

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

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

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

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

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

I fell completely in love with this story. 

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

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

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

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

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

I was terrified to write it.

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

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

I went to bed.

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

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

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

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

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

And that's how I got the draft done.

Ducking fear every step of the way.

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

But some manuscripts are too fragile for shouting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From that place, you write. 

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