Because it's Cheaper Than Moving
I finally had to admit I had a roach problem after they stopped respecting the time-share agreement.
You know what I mean: You turn on the kitchen light, the tiny saloon piano stops for a sec, and then they go right back to doing jelly shots and playing poker in the toaster crumbs.
So I did the usual stuff. Cleaned up real good, got careful with the trash, sprayed behind the appliances. Then one night when I had some friends over for dinner, one of the little bastards fell out of a cabinet and right into the soup.
Yeah.
I got educated, got equipped, and then I got revenge.
It took two of us to pull the fridge out from the wall, revealing the hideous Blattodean¹ ur²-source underneath. I spent about an hour mopping up six years' worth of furry ectoplasm, MIA cat toys, and the lone moldering Cheeto. Then I sprinkled borax over the floor and caulked up the crevices, which was the best part (because I was all, "hey, this is like frosting a cake!" and they were all, "for the love of God, Montresor³!") The last roach I saw was fleeing to Italy, carrying his father on his back.
By this point, you're probably thinking, "Dang, Tex - I came here to check out the writer's workshop, not to hear about your horrific affinity for literary allusions and squalor." So here's what I got.
You work hard on your manuscript. When you print it and re-read it and red-pen it, you can squash any number of scurrying typos and six-legged plot-holes.
But if you've done all that and you're still racking up rejections or watching your sales figures flatline, then you might need to take a deeper look at things. This is where critique partners come in useful. Capable as you are, sometimes you do need a battle buddy to help you pull the fridge out and see where your problems are coming from.
It's not easy. In fact, it is embarrassing as hell. But there is a real security in knowing that when a dinner guest doesn't finish her first course, it's because she didn't happen to care for fish-stick bisque, and not because of what she found floating in it.
-Tex Thompson, DFWWW member since 2012
Footnotes (just in case and just for fun)
1 Cockroaches are categorized in the insect order Blattodea. Derived from the Greek word for cockroaches, “blatta”.
2 –ur has Germanic origins and can be used in a combing form to mean “earliest, original”.
3 Montresor was the narratator in Edgar Allen Poe’s work, The Cask of Amontillado. In the work, Montresor tells about his deadly revenge on a friend who offended him…and it ain't pretty.
photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/garibaldi/2950742137/
You know what I mean: You turn on the kitchen light, the tiny saloon piano stops for a sec, and then they go right back to doing jelly shots and playing poker in the toaster crumbs.
So I did the usual stuff. Cleaned up real good, got careful with the trash, sprayed behind the appliances. Then one night when I had some friends over for dinner, one of the little bastards fell out of a cabinet and right into the soup.
Yeah.
I got educated, got equipped, and then I got revenge.
It took two of us to pull the fridge out from the wall, revealing the hideous Blattodean¹ ur²-source underneath. I spent about an hour mopping up six years' worth of furry ectoplasm, MIA cat toys, and the lone moldering Cheeto. Then I sprinkled borax over the floor and caulked up the crevices, which was the best part (because I was all, "hey, this is like frosting a cake!" and they were all, "for the love of God, Montresor³!") The last roach I saw was fleeing to Italy, carrying his father on his back.
By this point, you're probably thinking, "Dang, Tex - I came here to check out the writer's workshop, not to hear about your horrific affinity for literary allusions and squalor." So here's what I got.
You work hard on your manuscript. When you print it and re-read it and red-pen it, you can squash any number of scurrying typos and six-legged plot-holes.
But if you've done all that and you're still racking up rejections or watching your sales figures flatline, then you might need to take a deeper look at things. This is where critique partners come in useful. Capable as you are, sometimes you do need a battle buddy to help you pull the fridge out and see where your problems are coming from.
It's not easy. In fact, it is embarrassing as hell. But there is a real security in knowing that when a dinner guest doesn't finish her first course, it's because she didn't happen to care for fish-stick bisque, and not because of what she found floating in it.
-Tex Thompson, DFWWW member since 2012
Footnotes (just in case and just for fun)
1 Cockroaches are categorized in the insect order Blattodea. Derived from the Greek word for cockroaches, “blatta”.
2 –ur has Germanic origins and can be used in a combing form to mean “earliest, original”.
3 Montresor was the narratator in Edgar Allen Poe’s work, The Cask of Amontillado. In the work, Montresor tells about his deadly revenge on a friend who offended him…and it ain't pretty.
photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/garibaldi/2950742137/
Write On
There’s lots of writing advice floating around. I’ve learned hundreds of tips and tricks from craft books, from conferences, from industry professionals and colleagues. But if I had to single out the one tidbit, the very best piece of writing wisdom anyone has ever shared with me, it would be this:
Write another book.
Seriously, I promise it’s the all-purpose, regenerative, industrial strength cure for what ails. Facing rejection, again and again? Still revising the same novel since 2002? Write another book. Each new project helps you grow and gain perspective. You can’t develop your voice or hone new skill sets if you’re forever rearranging the same tired words. A new book is a second chance. Be courageous and take it.
Or maybe you’ve already had some success, but new worries are a constant plague. Are you angst-ing while on submission? Did your agent leave the business? Did your first contract fall through? Did your first (or fiftieth!) novel fail to earn out? Are critics (or critique partners) calling for your blood?
WRITE ANOTHER BOOK.
When your inbox spells doom and your last project is in doubt, dare to move forward, turning your back on everything you’ve tried before. Your last manuscript was not a failure—those words taught you what they could. They prepared you for the next page one. But don’t let them become the end, the barnacle-encrusted stopper in a half-empty bottle. Open yourself up to possibility of future success and begin again. Refill, refuel, and overflow. Write something new once more. This next project may be the one that sees you through, and you will never know if you linger in old blind-spots, dabbling with yesterday’s words.
So take the best advice I’ve ever gotten. Write another book.
-- Jenny Martin, DFWWW Member since 2009
photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/puzzler4879/4230867631/
A Writer's Life: A Tribute
Once in a while we come across someone who leaves an indelible mark on us. And sometimes that mark is so unforgettable, we feel obligated to turn and impress it onto the next closest person. And they will turn and do the same. So on, and so forth. This is the way a legacy is born – starting quietly with one incredible someone who doesn’t realize the impact they are making by just being them.
For DFW Writers’ Workshop, our incredible someone was Jack Ballas
.
Jack passed away this month at the age of ninety-one as a war hero, a father, a husband, an author, and as a DFWWW icon. On the surface it would seem the legacy he left us could be found in the nineteen published books resting in our trophy case. But, he actually bequeathed us something much bigger than books. He is very much responsible for the culture which we live and love every time we gather. As we sit around the critique table, we’re channeling our inheritance from him. Honest, thoughtful critique. Eager, obliging advice. Tact. Selflessness. Respect. Wisdom.
Jack Ballas showed us how it’s done, and we’ve been striving to do it like him ever since. And though not all of us had the pleasure of meeting him, we have all -- in a way -- had a chance to get to know him.
The comments below are a tribute to his indelible mark on us. Like his books, they are worth a read.
For DFW Writers’ Workshop, our incredible someone was Jack Ballas
.Jack passed away this month at the age of ninety-one as a war hero, a father, a husband, an author, and as a DFWWW icon. On the surface it would seem the legacy he left us could be found in the nineteen published books resting in our trophy case. But, he actually bequeathed us something much bigger than books. He is very much responsible for the culture which we live and love every time we gather. As we sit around the critique table, we’re channeling our inheritance from him. Honest, thoughtful critique. Eager, obliging advice. Tact. Selflessness. Respect. Wisdom.
Jack Ballas showed us how it’s done, and we’ve been striving to do it like him ever since. And though not all of us had the pleasure of meeting him, we have all -- in a way -- had a chance to get to know him.
The comments below are a tribute to his indelible mark on us. Like his books, they are worth a read.
When Wrong Makes Write
A few years ago, several non-fiction books hit the shelves claiming that inborn talent was either a complete myth or a small factor in a person’s overall success. These books were based on the findings of social scientists who had studied experts in a variety of fields. One of their main findings was that a person needed around 10,000 hours of practice (that’s about four hours a day for ten years) to become excellent at something. More importantly, not any old practice would do. This deliberate practice had to have specific characteristics. It had to be regular. It had to be hard and demanding. Most importantly, it had to have immediate, expert feedback.
If you want to be successful at difficult things such as chess, gymnastics or violin playing, a well developed community for getting this sort of practice exists. If you want to be successful as a writer in today’s society, it’s not so clear cut. The bar is particularly high in a flooded market.
After I finished my first novel and the rejection letters came dribbling in, I came reluctantly to the conclusion it was not quite publishable. But how other writers, especially first-time authors, had learned to produce properly publishable work was a mystery to me.
I now believe the secret may have something to do with writers’ groups.
One of these 10,000 hour books, Talent is Overrated, contains comedian Chris Rock’s method for preparing his big shows. He tries out new material in local clubs, seeing what works, discarding what bombs. At the end of this process, every single joke left in his act is supremely excellent, all delivered effortlessly. Who would have thought becoming excellent had anything to do with being crap? It does. But here is the secret: you have to be crap in front of other people, and they have to be the right people.
I’ve learned a great deal since joining DFWWW many months ago. The first surprising thing I learned was that my novel was really bad. Not just a little bit bad; it was a big, stinky pile of present tense and wooden characters. The second thing I learned, after I dried my tears, was that it was ok to produce bad writing -- everyone starts out doing that. I might not be a special case, but I was in good company.
Then, over the coming weeks, I learned about all the varied and increasingly subtle ways my novel could be bad. Then some of it got good. Some of it is still pretty awful, but that’s ok because now I know which bits to discard. Every week, I leave the group with a stronger (if somewhat shorter) story. I’m still on my journey towards becoming a published writer, but I do believe, at last, I am shoveling my way down the right road.
- Kim Moravec, DFWWW Member since 2012
If you want to be successful at difficult things such as chess, gymnastics or violin playing, a well developed community for getting this sort of practice exists. If you want to be successful as a writer in today’s society, it’s not so clear cut. The bar is particularly high in a flooded market.
After I finished my first novel and the rejection letters came dribbling in, I came reluctantly to the conclusion it was not quite publishable. But how other writers, especially first-time authors, had learned to produce properly publishable work was a mystery to me.
I now believe the secret may have something to do with writers’ groups.
One of these 10,000 hour books, Talent is Overrated, contains comedian Chris Rock’s method for preparing his big shows. He tries out new material in local clubs, seeing what works, discarding what bombs. At the end of this process, every single joke left in his act is supremely excellent, all delivered effortlessly. Who would have thought becoming excellent had anything to do with being crap? It does. But here is the secret: you have to be crap in front of other people, and they have to be the right people.
I’ve learned a great deal since joining DFWWW many months ago. The first surprising thing I learned was that my novel was really bad. Not just a little bit bad; it was a big, stinky pile of present tense and wooden characters. The second thing I learned, after I dried my tears, was that it was ok to produce bad writing -- everyone starts out doing that. I might not be a special case, but I was in good company.
Then, over the coming weeks, I learned about all the varied and increasingly subtle ways my novel could be bad. Then some of it got good. Some of it is still pretty awful, but that’s ok because now I know which bits to discard. Every week, I leave the group with a stronger (if somewhat shorter) story. I’m still on my journey towards becoming a published writer, but I do believe, at last, I am shoveling my way down the right road.
- Kim Moravec, DFWWW Member since 2012
A Pipe-less Pipe Dream
Writing is hard for a lot of reasons, and most of those reasons aren't what non-writers think. It's not hard coming up with ideas. It's not hard learning how to write well. Ideas are overrated, and if you can't figure out how to write a decent sentence, well, you've got bigger problems than writing a book. Writing is hard because of the time it takes and because, for most aspiring writers, they're working in the dark, groping blindly for any chance to find their audience, earn a little money in the process.
This is where a good writer's group can be helpful. While not all groups are created equal, there's something comforting about meeting with a group of folks who are all trying for the same dream. It stops being weird. It starts seeming more plausible, stops being a pipe dream. Even if you're surrounded by nothing but aspiring writers, it still seems like something worth doing.
In my experience, most writers are scared of writer's groups. I know I was. They picture a room full of pipe-smoking mustachioed gents discussing metaphor and theme and other dry and dull topics. And I'm sure those groups exist. But there are also groups dedicated to making writing easier, to taking what is otherwise a lonely aspiration and making it appear not so mysterious.
Not everyone likes that. Some people want writing to be mysterious. They like it to be some magical artistic gift from the heavens and to wallow happily in their genius while dismissing the rest. They look at other writers as competition, not support. They love the idea of being a writer for what it says about them, not for what they have to say.
Real writers write. Real writers always want to learn how to write better. And a good writer's group can help us do that. If you want to write and you have the time, check one or two out. I know my group has been a tremendous support, even now as I make a living doing this. And I'm certain they're plenty of groups out there ready to help aspiring and established writers get better.
Writing is lonely. Don't make it lonelier just because you're frightened of men with pipes.
-- A. Lee Martinez, DFWWW Member since 1995
This is where a good writer's group can be helpful. While not all groups are created equal, there's something comforting about meeting with a group of folks who are all trying for the same dream. It stops being weird. It starts seeming more plausible, stops being a pipe dream. Even if you're surrounded by nothing but aspiring writers, it still seems like something worth doing.
In my experience, most writers are scared of writer's groups. I know I was. They picture a room full of pipe-smoking mustachioed gents discussing metaphor and theme and other dry and dull topics. And I'm sure those groups exist. But there are also groups dedicated to making writing easier, to taking what is otherwise a lonely aspiration and making it appear not so mysterious.
Not everyone likes that. Some people want writing to be mysterious. They like it to be some magical artistic gift from the heavens and to wallow happily in their genius while dismissing the rest. They look at other writers as competition, not support. They love the idea of being a writer for what it says about them, not for what they have to say.
Real writers write. Real writers always want to learn how to write better. And a good writer's group can help us do that. If you want to write and you have the time, check one or two out. I know my group has been a tremendous support, even now as I make a living doing this. And I'm certain they're plenty of groups out there ready to help aspiring and established writers get better.
Writing is lonely. Don't make it lonelier just because you're frightened of men with pipes.
-- A. Lee Martinez, DFWWW Member since 1995