In addition to setting goals for the year, I’m also examining habits that help or hinder the quality and quantity of my writing. I’m focused on writing, but I think you could substitute the word for whatever you’re passionate about, and it will hold true. I’ll start with the good ones.

1.    Morning routine. Without a doubt, this is the most important thing I do every day. I get up 75 minutes before my kids, and I’m never grouchy about it. I don’t hit the snooze button. Ever. I’m not crazy, I just don’t want my first waking moment to be someone demanding something from me. To clarify, my children are not monsters; I have a three-year old. When she wakes up, she wants milk, Cheerios and a snuggle. I LOVE this part of the day. But before that, I need time to get my head set. I read from the lectionary, write out the things I’m grateful for, and look at the plans for the day. Then it’s time for coffee and writing until I hear the sweetest voice in the world calling out, “Is the sun is shining?”

2.    Early bedtime. I can’t be ready for 5am if I’m still up at 10pm. I’ve never enjoyed staying up late but getting to bed early takes effort. Our evening routine is fairly consistent, so our kids know when it’s time to settle in. TV is for the weekends, and I don’t have caffeine after 3. I try to have all of my household work for the day finished by the time we start bath time so that when the kids go to bed, I have plenty of time to wind down.

3.    Writing time is for writing. Part of being a writer is reading, researching, Internetting, thinking, journaling, going for walks, and hanging out at coffee shops. But I qualify writing as drafting, revising, and editing. During the blocks that I’ve set aside for writing, I only allow myself to work on those tasks. It means scheduling times for the other things too, but when I’m most fresh or have the largest block of uninterrupted time, I need to attend to the hard work of writing.

Coming in 2019

As I write historical fiction about the lives of my family in Roosevelt County, New Mexico, I’m continually researching the people, food, agricultural practices, and fashion of the time. As I pick up interesting bits, I’ll share them with you.  

This year, I’m excited to tap into a new source. In a Julie and Julia sort of way, I’m going to work through Our Best Home Cooking: Roosevelt County 1997. Its contributors, members of the county’s homemakers’ clubs, are the basis for the characters I’m creating, or in cases like my grandma, they are the characters. The recipes are artifacts of their daily lives (Easy Wiener Dish) and special occasions (Mandarin and Maraschino Ham Sauce). Each post will come with reviews and, when possible, a brief biography of the contributor. 

I’ll share my experiences as a writer: Habits that help or hinder; craft lessons; and what I learn about the business of publishing and marketing. I’ll also share connections between what I do as a writer and the possibilities for teaching students to write.

If there are topics you’d like me to explore, leave a comment below!

Resolving to Dream

It’s the time of year for resolutions. I love resolutions. I am really good at setting my mind to a task and conquering it. Marathon, Ph.D., natural childbirth, write a novel 500 words at a time—done.

I’m going to try something more difficult this year. Instead of resolutions, I’m going to dream. My goals in the past have been logical and fairly predictable to anyone who knows me. In 2019, I’m taking steps toward doing things that may be a little more surprising. I have daydreams in journals that go back years but seemed too silly to say out loud or work toward. 

There’s no good reason my daydreams can’t become realities. I have access to the information, training, and resources I need. I have an amazing husband who supports my plans. 

I’ve been afraid of failure or, more accurately, afraid of what people will think of my failure. 2019 will be the year to be truer to my values than I am to other people’s opinions. I resolve to listen to the voices of wise counsel and experts, not spectators.

Why and How I'm Going to Indie-Publish

Over the last six months I’ve learned many things about the business of writing and publishing. The biggest lesson is that my first novel is not high concept. This term refers to books with a “what if” premise that are easy to sell mass market because of an easy-to-grasp concept. Think summer blockbuster movies. More explosions, less subtlety. Ironically, many Newbury Award winners are not high concept either, so I feel okay about the company I find myself in.

My novel is well-written, with specificity of place and characters who grow and change in interesting ways. The stakes and pacing are akin to Little House on the Prairie or Anne of Green Gables. It’s exactly the way I meant for it to be.

I’ve been waking up early for the last three years to make sure my children know the stories of my Grandma’s people. My novel is a way to honor all of the pioneers and homesteaders who worked, lived, and loved their way through the Dust Bowl.  

I’ve heard that agents and publishers want high concept books and that historical fiction is hard to sell. That may be so, but I’ve written a good story and I want to see it in a format that would rival any traditionally published book. From what I can tell, it will take about $1000 of editing, cover design, and formatting to get my novel indie-publish ready.

My plan is to sell enough copies of my short story collection to cover the cost of getting The Gambler’s Daughter ready for print.  If you teach social studies or history, have an interest in the Dust Bowl, or want to support an indie-author, please click here to buy a copy of Becoming Maxine. http://www.blurb.com/b/8958152-becoming-maxine

Why Write: Part 4

I can’t say it enough: Writing is a practice in vulnerability. I regret that I didn’t fully appreciate this sooner. As an elementary teacher, I tried to create a safe place for my students to write, but curricular demands required that we write particular things at particular times at a particular pace. As a university professor, I started with a mentality that my students “should know how to do this by now.” It took years for me to realize that they needed scaffolding and a safe place as much as the children did. Working with teachers as an instructional coach, I didn’t need to see their writing, but what could be more vulnerable that letting someone into the sacred space of your classroom? 

I write so that I experience vulnerability. I put words on paper that I might regret later. I share my stories with people who might reject them. Vulnerability is a high threshold habit; the effort and the payoff are both significant. I hope that because I am a writer, I have more empathy for the racing heart and sweaty armpits of the people I request vulnerability from. To my students past (and probably future), I hope you’ll forgive me for the times that I wasn’t.