Starving Artist

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I was at a restaurant the other day with my partner when the wait turned into a longer ordeal than anticipated. I was not really surprised, as it was a new place. My first instinct happened to be leaving, too, but I didn’t want to be a spoilsport.

So we waited. We waited for a table, we waited for service, then we waited a ridiculous amount of time for mediocre food. Somewhere during the period between sitting down and getting served, I was asked why I wasn’t writing. There is always some sort of writing material on my person, even if it’s a cheap pen and a scrap of paper. I don’t feel right without it.

But do you know why I wasn’t writing? Because I was hungry. The old belly grumbled way too determinedly for me to focus on any kind of storytelling.

I thought that was a funny sort of blessing. Of all the big issues that plague countless poor, blocked artists, my issue happens to have been a very brief one with biology.

So, what stops you from writing or drawing or whatever it is that makes you feel personally productive? I doubt it’s your appetite for protein and carbohydrates. Do you suffer guilt over other things you think you “should” be doing? I say, go feed that creative hunger! Stop being a starving artist. Your whole being will thank you.

A Solitary Occupation?

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We’ve all seen it in the movies and read it in books: the time-worn image of a writer sitting down to his typewriter (or computer these days) to write a book.  The author is always alone, in a nifty little office with an old fashioned desk, a shelf full of books, a few quaint decorations, and a window with a lovely view. The setting outside the window varies, but the one thing always there is the idea of writing alone. How true is it?

My best answer is it is and it isn’t. Writing, for the most part, can be a very solitary profession.  There is no substitute for physically sitting down, on your own, and getting the words on the page via whatever medium you use, be it typewriter, computer, or pen and paper. A s such,  no one can bring to life the stories in your head besides you. Time to focus, without distractions, is a must and this is best done alone. When we really get into the writing groove, when the words are flowing and the story is good, the characters alive, the least interruption, one phone call, can totally derail you. We need time with the people in our heads here, perhaps not the people in real life.

 But what about the other times? What about  the night last week when you had a sticky plot point and could have used some advice? What if you just received a revise & resubmit request and need an opinion on the notes? What if you need technical information on how to saddle a horse or make nitroglycerin (for example)? There is always  the internet for research but for other things — advice, sympathy, a pat on the back, or someone to cheer with — you need other writers.

There is no substitute for having author friends to commiserate with you over a rejection, or look over your chapters to see what’s going awry, to cheer with you over your latest sale, or even talk shop with over your process. Some of us are lucky to have people locally for this whether it’s local writing groups or local chapters of national writing organizations.  Whether you have writers at hand or don’t, there is always the internet. Writing groups flourish online.  Forums, writing blogs, online chapters of organizations, the list is endless. Add in smaller crit groups that form among the patrons of these online groups and you can spend 24 hours a day socializing. It’s a wealth of knowledge, help, and much needed socialization with people who understand what it means to have imaginary people talking in your head.

 So back to my original question. Solitary or not? I can honestly say that I think this writing gig is the best of both worlds. Now I am back to my desk, and my window with the gorgeous view of the Montana mountains.

The Lady with Dust Bunnies in Her Hair

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The gal in question wrote to an animal welfare website where folks tell how they discovered a beloved pet, often found languishing in a shelter after being heartlessly dumped. Her story stood out, though. This goodhearted person wrote that the poor cat spent his initial two months “with me hiding under the bed.” What? An adult woman spent two months under her bed?

It’s a sad tell on misuse of the English language that it took me a few moments to realize that the cat hid, not the woman. Should I expect a preposition to precede the subject of a verb? Of course not. Yet that was exactly how I interpreted her opening sentence. Why did she even add the words “with me”? Where else would the animal have been, an ocean freighter?

After reading the sentence, I find myself particularly grateful for demanding school teachers. I also have a constructively perfectionist mother who instilled a strong respect for precise grammar and punctuation. I’m far from perfect, to be sure, but my problem is more along the lines of capitol versus capital and the like. All the same, I think it’s time to pick up an edition of “Eats, Shoots & Leaves” by Lynn Truss. If nothing else, the intrinsic humor and a foreword by delightful author Frank McCourt will make the informative read well worth the time and money.

Instead of worrying about perfection, however, I’d definitely rather read these types of heartwarming stories. And that goes for fiction, too, so happy writing!

Get Into The Groove

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A couple of songs popped up in my Rhapsody play list the last few days, and I noticed a trend. What played was Madonna’s Get Into The Groove, and Earth, Wind & Fire’s Let’s Grove Tonight. It got me thinking about the crazy summer, and my writing – or lack thereof. Summers in Montana are woefully short. It’s not really warm till mid-June and by mid-August often the leaves are beginning to turn. See what I mean? So we like to make the most of the warmth and sunshine while we can.

This is not overly conducive to sitting at my computer, however, when the gorgeous outdoors beckons. And while it is perfectly logical, my distance from those magic words that I string together day by day to make a story still call to me and I get antsy and unsettled because I am not writing. So what’s a poor author to do?

Recently, Rowan Lark, author of A Love Neverending and one of the authors on the new Nightlight blog, published a wonderful idea, and one I am planning to dive into once our family camping trip is done. She proposed the idea of 100 words a day for 100 days. It’s beautiful in it’s simplicity. The key here is consistency and habit. And the daily word count is easily achieved, so that you can be successful. It’s just what I need to get back in the habit and for P.M. to get her groove back. Pure genius.

Blessed Being

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One thing the Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron has taught me is that I am very blessed with wonderful parents. Exercises meant to deal with issues like poisonous people in our lives, unhealthy attitudes toward a higher power, and financial issues have all pointed toward their nurturing, positive examples. A phone call Saturday night only reinforced that.

Dad called to see how things are going. Often asking after my writing despite his disinterest in reading fiction stories, he expressed amusement over my various projects, none of the ones mentioned even involving writing, to the point I didn’t give him a chance to talk about himself much. Mom, for her part, could have complained endlessly about a broken rib. She didn’t, not even with a chronic disease adding to the mix. How can I complain after that?

Instead, they inspire me to do things like email a favorite author. If I don’t hear back, I’ll presume he’s busy. Odds are, I will hear back because he’s already proven himself to be courteous and grateful, but my world won’t be shattered if he’s too busy. I have too much knowledge of the many more important things in life.

So, while this is an intensely personal post, it’s also short. I just couldn’t resist sharing. Hopefully, I can hear about some similar joy in your life today. Blessings to you and yours!

Making Time for Unicorns

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On Saturday afternoon I allowed myself to be persuaded to go to the Washington County Fair with my girlfriends instead of staying home and cleaning. It doesn’t sound like such a hardship to spend time with my friends, I realize, but after being laptop-free for over a week I had this plan that I would get all the cleaning done on Saturday and then be free to write all day on Sunday and it was hard to give that up.


We used to go to the Fair every year, but it’s been a really long time since I went. And one of my friends hadn’t actually been to this kind of fair before, with cows and crafts along with the rides. It ended up being the perfect mix of resurrecting old memories and making new ones. All of the usual food booths right where they should be, the familiar smells of the barns, the blues band on stage next to the covered picnic tables – if Johnny Limbo and the Lugnuts had been the closing band in the grass amphitheater it could easily have been 1990 instead of 2010.

But this time we actually went on the rides, too, testing our stomachs on the Spider and the Tilt-a-Whirl, and the silver one whose name I don’t remember. And despite her lack of confidence in her own skill, one friend managed to earn 150 points on the last round of Skee Ball so all three of us walked out with a plush toy to remember the day.

It was wonderful. I have no regrets about going.

Of course, I also don’t regret ending my day with my friends after the fair instead of continuing on to happy hour and the movies. They’re very good friends, but for some reason on this particular day I had to repeat several times that I wanted to get some writing done and wasn’t free all day.

For a variety of reasons I didn’t actually get any writing done (although I did get the cleaning and laundry taken care of), and I admit that’s a little frustrating, but what I’m really taking away from the weekend is that it doesn’t have to be and either/or, all-or-nothing kind of thing. If we’re open to it, there is almost always some kind of balance that can be struck, so you can have the little purple unicorn with a silver horn sitting in a place of honor on the bookshelf, and a clean house, and maybe some word count to go with it.

The important thing, I think, is to take a deep breath and listen to your instincts when the calendar tries to get crowded. Don’t be afraid to tell someone you’ll get back to them, rather than giving them an answer on the spot. Give yourself time to think it through. Decide where your priorities are, and make sure that, whatever you do, it works for you.