Tag: children’s writer

A new month, a new year, a future full of possibilities. Charge full steam ahead with those writing goals, and stay charged with some positive reinforcement.

1. Connect with other writers.

Surrounding yourself (virtually or otherwise) with like-minded people is a great way to stay focused, motivated and inspired. Google writing groups in your area. Your tribe is waiting! These groups can lead you to critique groups, writing challenges, webinars and classes.

Critique groups and writing challenges not only provide support and encouragement, they motivate you to write with deadlines.

2. Be a follower on social media.

Join Facebook groups of writers or follow writers, agents, editors and publishers on Twitter. I’m not a fan of Twitter because of the political vitriol. I write children’s stories, so angry posts don’t typically inspire thoughts of unicorns and rainbows. However, I’ve gotten pretty good at scrolling past it all.  I also had to unfollow a “writer” who felt compelled to post numerous pictures of popping pimples. I mean, really?

Still, I often find encouragement and motivation on Twitter. It’s also a good way to stay current on the publishing world and discover submission opportunities.

Warning: Don’t let social media be a time suck. Limit your perusing so it doesn’t take away from actual writing time.

3. Read articles and books on craft, but also for inspiration.

Pat yourself on the back every time you do something to improve your craft. Never stop learning. But also, look for uplifting articles. There are plenty of success stories and how-tos and stick-to-it articles to keep you going. Find inspiration in blogs by authors.

4. Write what you want.

What if the market says dinosaur romance is hot, hot, hot? Do you really want to write that? Even if you could force yourself to write about amorous dinosaurs, by the time it’s ready, the market will have changed—hopefully.

Stick to what makes you passionate about writing. That is what makes your writing authentic.

5. Study books in the genre you are writing.

When I first heard this advice, it was given as a how-to-write tip. Of course! Learn from the authors who write the books you love. But also, take heart from the authors who write books that, well, you don’t love.

Think about all those books that made you go meh. They got published, didn’t they? Why? Because writing, like any art, is subjective. So, when I read a book that makes me go meh, I silently cheer. Your book doesn’t have to appeal to everyone—just enough someones.

The more immersed I am in the writing world, the more motivated I feel, and the more productive I am.

I love writing stories. I love tinkering with words. It’s such a joyful feeling to think, “I’ve got something here. I really think this time I’ve got something.”

And then I submit it to my critique partners.

I appreciate critiques. I really do. But honestly, sometimes I wonder if a colonoscopy would be less painful. (kidding)*

Living in a fantasy world where my manuscripts are ALWAYS PERFECT is a lovely place to be. But in the end, it is a very lonely place to be. No one else lives there. Just me.

Critique partners are great when you need help brainstorming or looking for a suggestion to get you over a writing hump. But as painful as it is, they are especially great when they act like vultures, swooping in on your fantabulous story, served up naked on a silver platter.

Sure, sure, sure, there are good things about your story, but chances are, there’s room for improvement. And no matter how nice they are about it, and how carefully they couch their suggestions, critiques of your “baby” can hurt.

“Oooo, what’s that thing? Hmmm. I don’t know … Maybe, you want to … or Hmmm, that doesn’t seem quite right. Ha! I like that part. Good start. Happy rewriting.”

Good start? “Wrong, Wrong, Wrong! They don’t get it. They don’t know what they’re talking about.” You stomp around the room. You cry. You rip up paper. You promise yourself you will never, ever, ever write again.

Then you take a deep breath, and email: “Thank you for your insightful feedback.”

Insightful? Yes, because it is. And You know it. Maybe not now, but in a month or two when you pull out your story and read it again. “Oh. Right. Aha! That would make more sense. They were right.”

Not always right and not on everything. But enough, maybe a lot. The key here is to put space between you and your critiqued manuscript. That way, you can read it with fresh eyes and from a more critical perspective.

Then comes the opportunity to write an even better version of the story.

Rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, and then buckle up. It’s time to submit to the critique partners again.

Lord, have mercy, because hopefully, your critique partners will not.

*(My critique partners are actually quite wonderful. I would much rather get a critique from them then a colonoscopy. They are fabulous cheerleaders on my writing journey, and I am grateful for each one of them. If you don’t feel that way about yours, you need to find a more supportive tribe.)

I was never a big fan of the word “office.” Maybe because a lot of people identify it with something they want to get out of, have a break from, or leave completely.

One of the places where I write is my dining room table. Papers clutter the space around my laptop, and bright sunlight pours in from the windows that line one wall.

I’m always just a few steps from the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator. I’m also a leap or two from the window where I can see what the neighbor’s dog is barking at or what the kids are shouting about on the playground.

Don’t scold me. Those aren’t distractions. Those are mental breaks that might lead to musings, that might lead to something interesting.

My dining room table is a nice place to write. But it’s not my favorite place. It’s not always the best place for seedlings of ideas to sprout and bloom.  

That would be here:

Writing is my mind wandering. And I don’t always wander well unless I’m moving. My mind works best weaving and winding down a tree-lined path or behind the wheel, gliding over a country road.

Ideas have even popped up unexpectedly in the shower, or while cleaning the toilet, or mowing the lawn. Sometimes my ideas go bump in the night. I’ve learned to write it down then and there, or risk losing it forever.

Sometimes when I get back to my seat in the dining room to tap out the idea on my laptop, that idea kind of fizzles and fades. It seemed brighter somehow when I was folding the laundry.

But sometimes it grows into something even better than I thought it would.

Yes, I know I need to plant myself in front of my laptop to actually get words to document. But I also know I need to take my mind out for a walk or a drive and let it run wild.