Get in shape

by: Joelle Charbonneau

Time to get in shape.

It’s a new year. Not surprising, I’m hearing lots of people say that they want to get in shape this year. They want to lose weight, eat better and all in all feel healthier. I’m all for that. Being healthy is an important part of being happy. And trust me when I say I’m a huge fan of happiness.

When most people make their resolution, they often put a huge number on their goal to a thinner, happier self. 30 lbs. 45 lbs. Even 60 lbs. They make a huge long term goal that seems horribly difficult to achieve—especially in the beginning. Because the finish line to that goal is so far in the distance, it is hard for the goal maker to celebrate the small victories of 1 lb here and 2 lbs there. Because they aren’t celebrating those steps on the way to crossing the finish line, they are more apt to drop out of the race before the first month of the year is done.

So why am I talking about this? Well, I often hear writers say their resolution for the new year is to “finish a manuscript”. Is this an admirable goal? Hell yes. But it is a BIG goal. This is the equivalent to “I am going to lose 50 lbs this year” type of goal. It is easy to be enthusiastic about the goal when the year begins and by the end of the first month feel let down because reaching the goal is taking longer than expected. That’s when trouble sets in. It’s at this point that many writers stop sitting down at their desks with enthusiasm. They tell themselves they need a break to really work out the plot of the story. Many go back and rewrite what they already have written. Others come up with a bright and shiny new idea that they think is way better than the first and embark on that project with the same gusto as they with the old. In short—the book never gets done.

So, here’s the deal. For anyone that has set a large goal for themselves this brand new year– do me a favor and break that goal down into manageable chunks. If you are losing weight – go for a pound a week. If you want to eat better, don’t cut everything you love out of your diet. Trim a bit and go from there. Set yourself up to succeed.

As for writers who want to finish a book this year—try this instead. I am challenging all writers to the 100 words 100 day challenge. Get up tomorrow and write at least 100 words on your story. You can write more if you want, but you have to write at least 100. No editing. Just writing. Then get up the next day and write 100 more. Do this for 100 days. If you skip a day, you go back to day one and start all over again. 100 words. 100 days. No skipped days. No excuses. No apologies. No giving up.

Why 100 words a day? Because no matter how busy your work and personal schedule gets, I promise you can manage that amount every single day. And guess what? When you flex your writing muscles every day they get stronger. Like any diet or workout plan, the first couple days are the toughest. The words won’t come as fast. The story will struggle. But you KNOW you can write 100 words, so you’ll do it. The more you flex your writer muscles on this story, the easier those 100 words a day will be. Heck, it might turn into 500 or 1000 words a day. By the time those 100 days are over you might be halfway done with the book or even close to THE END. A manageable goal that you can reach every day means you have a shot of actually finishing your ultimate goal much sooner than you might think. You just have to take the plunge and do it.

So, let’s all make this the year of achieving our goals, no matter what they are. Deal?

And for those writers who are interested on taking the 100 words, 100 days challenge – let me know! I’d love to check in with you during the challenge to see how you are doing.

Why I Outline: A (Short) Case Study

by
Scott D. Parker

Thirty-six days ago, I made a commitment: write some amount of prose everyday. And, to date, I have a 36-day writing streak. Some days, I crested one thousand words, others, a mere paragraph or two. I wanted to create the habit of writing, to create that yearning to know that, even if it's 11pm at night, I still have one additional item on the to-do list. So far, that impetus has succeeded.

I also wanted to test out something: could I write a short story (or novella as the word count is expanding) with only knowing how the story starts and, more or less, how it ends. Many writers write their tales this way and I wanted to give it a go in a smaller, contained piece. While the story does feature my railroad detective, Calvin Carter, I am consciously trying something different: a more traditional style of story. Less of a shoot'em up and more of a brain thing. Who knows how it'll turn out. Maybe I'll go all pulp in the rewrite and strip out all the boring parts.

During the writing, I've struggled with how the story should play out. In the first week, I even changed narrators and that was an interesting experience. It was the only day in which I went "backwards"--that is, did some rewriting--but I have not done any since. Forward, march, as they say. More than once, I wanted to stop the writing and plan out the rest of the story. For this story, I resisted. I wanted to see how it played out.

The time to write has varied. The week between Christmas and New Year's was great. I was on vacation and each morning I'd get up at my usual work time (6:00 am), grab the coffee, and start typing. Once the usual workdays started up again, that went out the window as did the nice large chunks of word counts. I also miss my morning writing times, being forced, by all that the day requires of me, to start writing around 10:00 pm.

And here's where I get to my issue with outlining versus "just seeing where it goes." I start getting tired around that time even though I usually stay up until midnight. My day job blew up this week and has required me to work into the night, including participating in conference calls. The last thing I want to do is write a few lines or pages. I have, and it is in these times I've struggled the most.

You see, when I outline and map out the story, I put all the information on notecards. When it's time to write, pick up the next notecard and just write that scene. Easy as pie. Now, on some nights, while I don't experience writer's block--I know generally what's coming next--the flow isn't there. While I know what to write, I don't always know what to write. Yes, that does make sense. Additionally, with the structure in place, when life throws you for a loop, you can hang your writing self on the structure and use it to get your writing habit back in order.

I'll finish this story in the manner in which I started it: just seeing where the story leads me. Or: since I have this idea for an ending, I'll see if I get there or not. But I'm pretty confident that once I type "the end" on this story, I may go back to the structure that I know.

Do y'all ever try to write something in a way definitely different that your usual method? Have y'all had success?

Acting Up

By Russel D McLean

I wanted to be an actor.

That’s the long and short of it. I wanted to be an actor. Not for the fame and the glory, but for the ability to become someone else, even if only for a short amount of time. This had nothing to do with being unhappy in who I was, but there was something about becoming someone else, of reacting to the world in a way that was atypical to the norm that I found exciting.

I only had one problem:

I didn’t like actors.

Okay, that’s not fair. What I didn’t like were people who wanted to be Actors (with a capital A). You know, they wanted the luvvie lifestyle or to pretend that they in and of themselves were interesting. I didn’t want to be in the limelight. I wanted whoever I was supposed to be to be in the limelight.

Not that I was method, or anything. No, I was something else. I quickly found that dialogue was what made acting interesting to me. The right script could sing off the page and it was like you barely had to do anything at all to understand it. You just let the script use your body in the same way a musician might use a guitar. The dialogue and the action allowed you to perform. You didn’t need to question why a character might do something. If the script was in tune, you just goddamn knew why.

Maybe that’s the other reason I never became an actor. I placed too much faith in the writer. I didn’t allow my ego to overcome the script; I wanted the script to overcome my ego.
I suppose becoming a writer was a natural extension of all this. In the back of my head, I had this idea that I could act and write. That I would become one of those people who has a finger in every pie. But the writing won out in the end because I had more control, or at least it seemed that way to me. I was not bound by a bad script or forced to read between the lines to understand a character. If I didn’t understand a character, then that was my fault and not some other guy’s (or some other gal’s). There was also the fact that as much as people seemed to appreciate my acting ability, my skill with the written word came easier and more obviously. I was at home with words. I could manipulate them easier than I could my own expression or tone.

I got the same kick out of it, too. When I’m writing, I become the characters I’m writing about. I see the world through their eyes. I gain a new perspective on things. Sometimes that perspective unnerves me. Sometimes it says as much about me as it does about the character. Sometimes it makes me rethink my own ideas about life.

Whatever, it’s the getting inside someone’s head that provides me with the thrill of writing. It’s getting to be someone else, even if only for a little while. That’s what I became addicted to.

That’s what makes me keep hammering out fiction, telling stories about people who I could
never be, or even who I would never want to be.

Would I ever want to try acting again? Sure, I think I would. I don’t know that I’d be anywhere as good as I am at writing. It’s one thing to communicate character through words, another to do it physically. You can be good at one and not necessarily the other. But I do think the disciplines can attract the same types of people. Certainly, I get the same thrill from one that I did from the other.

You can call me a frustrated actor if you like. In one sense I suppose it’s true.

In another sense, since I abandoned the spotlights and the greasepaint, you could say, in all honesty, that I have become a satisfied writer.