Why Write? Part 3

As previously noted, writing requires vulnerability. In order to overcome the impulse to avoid writing, the stakes or the reward must be high enough to make the task worth the risk. One of the rewards for me is that I have something lasting at the end of the day.

In this season, I spend most of my hours doing laundry, cooking, cleaning, or potty-training (STILL). And guess what? The next morning there are clothes in the hamper, everyone is hungry, and there’s a puddle on the floor. I’ve willingly signed on for a long-game here. I’m eight years into raising adults and grateful for the privilege of spending time in my home. I’m one of those people who enjoys cooking and cleaning (potty-training is another story).

Still, it’s hard to look back on a day and try to point to something that was accomplished and realize that on most days, it’s hard to tell I did anything at all. The house is still standing; that took all day. But when I write, I can point to the lower left-hand corner of my Word document and say, “I wrote 753 words today.” And because I’m in a habit of backing up my work, those 753 words will still be there the next day. I don’t have to start from scratch every morning. The words I’m writing will still exist when my children have children. My family’s stories could be around for generations. That’s worth getting over the fear putting my perspective on paper or of getting it wrong. When I write, I’ve done something that lasts.

What rewards make writing worth the risk for you?

Why Write? Part 2

Fear of vulnerability keeps people from writing. For me, this often showed up as a fear of my family’s opinions. I write stories about my grandma and her family, but she’s not just my grandma. She was the sister, mother, the grandma, aunt, or cousin to a thousand other people who are still living and have opinions. What if they don’t like the way I portrayed her? Is she too perfect? too imperfect? And what about the other real-life characters? Or what if I got a farming reference wrong? 

On some days, the fear of my family’s opinions kept me from writing at all, but I have recently come to the realization that my portrayal of Grandma reflects my relationship with her, and I never needed approval for that.

Grandma is gone now. For a while, I’m sure her stories will be retold at family gatherings or on her birthday, but eventually, the stories could be lost. I want to make them available for the generations to come. 

What story or perspective are you uniquely equipped to share? What will be lost to this world if you never make time for it? If your writing could be a light to others, stop hiding it under a bushel, regardless of whatever your second-cousin might think.

For a collection of short stories based on my grandma’s childhood in the Dust Bowl, visit http://www.blurb.com/b/8958152-becoming-maxine.

Why Write? Part One

Lots of people tell me they “should write a book.” People have stories to tell and information to share, but most of them never write or don’t keep at it for long. The most common excuse is that they don’t have time. It’s true that writing takes time, but so do a million other things that people manage to make room for. A friend was comparing her journey into writing with her beginnings as a distance runner. She said, “anyone can run if they really want to, but writing is hard, and requires a certain amount of vulnerability.” 

That’s the secret. It’s why so many drafts are started and never finished; why so many teachers are comfortable being readers, not writers; why so many beautiful journals are full of empty pages. Writing requires vulnerability. In order to commit to writing over time, the stakes must outweigh the risks. 

Life Lessons from NaNoWriMo

As I explained in the previous post, I didn’t win NaNoWriMo this year, but I’m still glad I participated. I got a good start on my next novel and learned a few things in the process.

1.    My children will play together if they know they have to. We’ve always limited their screen time, so the idea of putting on a movie in order to get an extra writing session was not appealing. NaNoWriMo affirmed for me that it’s also not necessary. When my kids know that I’m working, especially if I can work near the space they’re occupying, after a few minutes of resistance they will transform the living room into an ocean full of volcanoes and our couch into a pirate ship.

2.    My husband supports me, if I tell him how. I’ve learned that saying, “I need to catch up on 2800 words today” is not the same as “I need you to take care of bath time/bedtime tonight, so I can catch up on 2800 words.” He’s a wonderful man, but he’s no mind reader. 

3.    There’s a season for everything. NaNoWriMo is fun, because it’s only for a month. Having a two-year old is fun, because it’s only for a year. Christmas is fun, because (in our house) it’s only for a month. I love all of these things, but they’re also really hard. Giving priority to competing commitments in turn is essential. If everything is a priority, nothing is. We ate a lot of frozen burritos in the first half of November, but my family knew it was only for a season. The intensity of caregiving sometimes sucks the life right out of me, but I wouldn’t trade it for tenure. It’s a season that will only come once. All seasons pass, even the ones you wish would linger. The best we can do is take what we can from them to carry into the next one.

Measure Twice, Cut Once: Why I'm Conceding the NaNoWriMo Prize

If you’ve spent any time sewing or building, you’ve probably heard the phrase, “Measure twice, cut once.” It means that if you measure your fabric or wood or whatever carefully, you’ll only need to cut it once, which will save time and prevent waste of materials. 

It’s why I am conceding the NaNoWriMo prize at 27,745 words.

Writing historical fiction based on my family’s stories requires extensive historical and genealogical research. It has been my goal from the beginning to stick to the facts whenever I can. My NANoWriMo WIP is the story of my great-grandparents’ courtship and elopement. She was a farmer’s daughter and he was a World War I veteran who became her father’s hired hand. I know their general story and was able to write almost 30,000 words of big events, awkward flirtation, and eventual marriage. What I don’t know much about is wheat farming in 1923, the Battle at Verdun, or education in a one-room school house. I could write 20,000 more words of description and scenes, but they wouldn’t be accurate or authentic. I would most certainly need to go back and rewrite them after engaging in deep research. The time and effort of those words would most likely be a waste of the next two weeks. Instead, it’s time to take a deep dive into the time, place, and people of my story.

I’m proud of the progress I made. Letting the words fly without thinking of revising or editing was a welcome change after the tedium of querying, and it helped me build my fluency again. I also (re)learned some good life lessons that I’ll share next week.