Know What You Want

Double the Jess on the interwebs today. Can you handle it? I’m guest blogging at Adventures in Children’s Publishing for WOW Wednesday: “My Crazy, Let Me Show You It.” Check it out.  ~

I always want chocolate cake.

The only way to get what you want is to start out knowing precisely what it is that you want. Seems obvious but it’s not. You can’t hit a target that’s not there. I said on Monday that you have to go for it, but you need to define “it” first, so pardon me for speaking too soon.

Often we desire things that are amorphous. Love, happiness, peace. They are shape-shifters, though, and your happiness will not look like my happiness, necessarily, so they are hard to catch. Or, our desires are negative. Whenever I feel like watching a movie, chances are I don’t have any movie in mind I want to watch, but I can tell you a whole range of things I don’t feel like viewing (comedies are nearly always on the latter list). This doesn’t lend itself to a pleasurable movie-watching experience because while the desire to watch a movie is sated, there’s a continuing ennui about what I’ve seen. Chances are, I’ve watched a movie I didn’t care about viewing and felt it somewhat a waste of time to do for the sake of doing.

I’ve had to do a lot of thinking over the past several months. The decision to divorce was mine. Agony doesn’t begin to describe how hard this was. One of the many books I read spoke about your reason for considering divorce. Are you avoiding a fear or pursuing a goal? That’s stuck with me in the months since I’ve read it; I find it a good barometer. What, exactly, do you want here? The semantics seem hair’s-breadth, but they aren’t. Deciding to stay in the marriage because you don’t know how you’ll make end’s meet or you’ll be lonely is fear-based. Deciding to stay because you want to work things out is goal-based. (By the way, people are much more likely to go through with a divorce if their motivation is goal-based than fear-based. I think that probably holds true in other arenas.)

The best two questions in a writer’s toolbox are “Why?” and “Why not?”

So, I’ll take my title and raise me one. Know what you want – and why you want it. Often we think we know what we want until we examine our motives and then it turns out we want something completely different. For instance, “I want to write a book” seems pretty specific, but then when you ask yourself why you want to do that, and it turns out you really just want to be semifamous or critically acclaimed or whatever you think comes with the writing of a book, you maybe shouldn’t bother writing a book.

Remember, the more concrete you can be in articulating your wants, the better your chance for achieving them. Let’s go back to happy. “I want to be happy” is an impossible goal. “I want to be an emotionally whole person who is comfortable in my own skin and acts accordingly” is getting better. “I want to write a book” is good, but “I want to have the first draft of a young adult novel completed by Christmas” is much more achievable.

What are some of your concrete goals? How would you rewrite “I want to be happy”?

You Have to Go For It

I’ve taken myself out for a drink or two each Friday night the past couple weeks. It took a bit of courage for me to do this. Because who goes out by themselves on a Friday night? To drink, yet? There must be something wrong with me. But I thought, I want to people watch and have a drink or two. Who cares what people think? So I went. I took my pen and notebook and people watched and had a drink or two.

I had a great time. Lots of little notes to jog other thoughts, or at least, new stories to tell. I may make it a habit. (Besides, going out by yourself is actually better than sitting in by yourself all the time, so there’s that.)

When people do a thing or go a place they were debating, you’ll often hear, “I’m so glad I went,” but rarely do you hear someone who didn’t do a thing say, “I’m so glad I stayed home,” unless, of course, we’re referring to the people who skipped out on parties during the hurricane last night, in which case, I am so glad I stayed home.

The only thing stopping us is ourselves. I was worried what other people might think? Really? People are self-absorbed. They are more worried about what you’ll think of them to think of you. And most things are simply not that big a deal. If I went out and felt awkward, I could leave. I could chalk it up to a lesson learned and not take myself out for people watching and a drink the following Friday.

When I started writing Hours So Late, I wrote for myself. I threw everything at that book. If it amused me or felt right, in it went. If I thought it needed to be on the page, it went on the page, no matter how difficult or uncomfortable writing it made me. HSL is not for the faint of heart; there’s a war coming and people hurt.

I think it might be my favorite manuscript to date. Because I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t say, “Well, YA books don’t [X].” Or, “that might be too extreme.” Or, “what will people think?”

I really hate that question. People will think whatever they think, and whatever they think usually has more to do with them than with you. As a society we can agree on outlying behaviors, but there’s no such thing as normal. Normal is relative. The problem with “what will people think?” isn’t that you worry you’ll offend someone, it’s that someone will judge you. We cloak ourselves in inoffensiveness as a way of hiding from ourselves and our own prejudices. We don’t want to be judged, but we do it all the time so we expect it in return.

We think too much. You have to go for it. Whatever “it” is for you, do it today. Call the guy/girl. Make the appointment. Buy the dress. Apply for the loan. Enter the contest. Write the book.

We can talk ourselves out of almost anything. For once, talk yourself into it and see where it gets you.

 

Setting Boundaries

This week I had some random things come up that required me to be clear about how I felt about them. Some of it was pretty easy, like asking the roommates to turn down the television when I went to bed. But some of it, a bit harder, like in apartment hunting or dealing with (we’ll call him) my ex.  I’m not in the habit of speaking up for myself.

Here’s how my thought process used to go: I’m not comfortable with X. But no one else seems bothered. I don’t want to bother anyone. It’s not that bad. :doesn’t say anything: :continues to be uncomfortable:

Here’s what I am actively changing my thought process to: I’m not comfortable with X. Why not? Because Y and Z. Are those reasons any good? :if yes, says something: :if no, examines my discomfort more deeply to get over it:

There was a situation that threw me for a loop lately and I asked a friend whether I should speak up about it. I mean, surely I could let the thing run its course and not have to make myself more uncomfortable by talking about it, right? Here is a hint: if you ever need to ask someone if you think you should say something, you are uncomfortable enough that you need to say something.

My friend said, you need to be clear and set boundaries. The word pinged around in my head. Boundaries? The word itself made me uncomfortable at first. It wasn’t a word I used regularly. I sat with that for a while, the realization sinking in. It’s not a good thing to learn you don’t set boundaries. If it’s a small victory when you ask someone to please call you your name instead of a nickname, because normally you wouldn’t risk offending them by pointing out they haven’t called you by your name in a while, oh, honey. I feel you. (Honest example.)

The funny thing is, the agonizing we do in our heads is really only in our heads. Most people have no idea they’ve made you uncomfortable unless you say something. There is no reason to live in that awkward place; you’re not doing anyone any favors. And more often than not, our requests are reasonable – turn the music down so I can sleep, please. If not, you can perhaps compromise so no one’s uncomfortable, and if nothing else, stating where you stand is good exercise for maintaining your self-worth. You run the risk of eroding yourself silence by silence otherwise.

Practice on little things. No, really. If you have trouble sticking up for yourself, start with things that aren’t important to you. Be firm about something insignificant, like where you’d like to go to dinner with a group of friends. That way no one’s going to have their heart ripped out and you get a little boost from doing what you need to. Work your way up if you have to until you can say, “You know, I think/feel [X]” without apologizing for having an opinion.

PS – Never apologize for having an opinion.

Why is a Raven Like a Writing Desk?

Yesterday I asked twitter if they had any questions for me to answer on the blog, see if anything could spark some inspiration. Heather Petty replied with what is the title to today’s post. Hardy har har, Heather. You only think you got me.

Oh, I thought, the question without an answer. Well played. But I had just tweeted with Dan Krokos about ending a story with a fiery inferno of torment and how stories with closure are for sissies. (I kid; I kid. Sort of.) And bam, everything coalesced because I realized, this is my life right now.

Y’all know I’m in transition (I mention it every post, right? right. sorry). I’m waiting on all kinds of things. Lots of paperwork – book contract, divorce petition, all the paperwork that comes with starting your life over, like your own credit card, your notification that your loans have been deferred for now, allll kinds of details. So many details. I am drowning in details, folks. Something’s got to give.

Only, it doesn’t. Life is a situation without an answer. Because I’ll get my paperwork and something else will come along to keep me in a limbo. Life cycles. It’s not compartmentalized, like, okay the book deal gets squared away and then the divorce gets squared away – I mean, does anything ever truly get squared away? Not really. Everything touches on everything else and overlaps and it’s messy.

Life passes by while you’re waiting. My word of the year this year is “choose,” and if I had known how apropos it would be I’d have freaked out just a little and maybe picked “sleep.” Lots of choices have come up this year and many more remain. Yet it doesn’t feel like it. It feels more like I’m in limbo waiting for things to happen to me – but that’s not true. I counter the situation without an answer by acting. Little things empower. I began job hunting actively even though I don’t have a permanent address right now. I began apartment hunting actively even though I don’t have my advance check to cover a security deposit. If I keep waiting on stuff, nothing will get done. I will be miserable and victimized and nobody wants that. I quote Thoreau enough for everyone to know he’s one of my favorites, and he’s the one who said, “Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you imagined.” Not, wait for your dreams to come true.

He also said, “Most men live lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.” I choose to sing loudly. How about you? What’s your unanswerable question and what are things you can do about it anyway?

Summer Is Almost Over (Photo Post)

I’d posted these photos on the old blog, so I’m reposting them. My twin sis got married this summer and it was frankly one of the highlights of my year. Love her.

What a view.

I clean up nice.

My sis has the best sense of style; the wedding was a perfect blend of elegant and homey.

The boys are 6' 5". I'm a full foot and a half shorter.

 

What have you done this summer? Do you have any photos to share? Let’s hear about your adventures, too.

The Push Through

I love the gym. I’ve gone almost every day for a few weeks now and I’ve come to rely on getting that workout in to stay sane. I wake up at 6AM every day because I’m a horrible sleeper and the routine helps, even when I’ve only fallen asleep at 2AM. I LOVE mornings, love the quiet and the potential, and starting the day out at the gym makes me feel good.

Actually, what makes me feel good is the endorphin high and knowing I did something healthy for myself when I really didn’t want to. See, as much as I love the gym, I hate the actual workout. At least, the first 15 minutes of it. I get on the x-trainer and I start pedaling and I cling to the handles and cuss my way through that. By minute twenty, I either stop or I start to feel like I could just pedal forever!! Why did I ever hate the actual workout? Whee!!

This, my friends, is the push through. You know of what I speak. If you can just hang on through the adjustment, you can do almost anything. It’s Newton’s physics – the object has to get in motion. It ain’t easy. But once it gets there…. it’s *always* worth it. It’s also why my favorite piece of writing advice is “Discipline builds momentum,” from Lilith Saintcrow. (Okay, perhaps my favorite advice, period. Just do the damn work.)

In the moment on the cross-trainer, when I am convinced my legs are going to fall off and I’m going to die, I think it can’t get any worse, and that it’s not really worth so much sweat and panting. It can’t be… and then, like magic, it can. The thing about the push through that I want to stress is that no matter how many times you experience it, it never gets any easier. In the three weeks I’ve gotten into my gym habit, I’ve already shaved time off my mile and my heart rate has steadied a bit. The work out gets easier. The push through doesn’t.

So it is in writing. (And life in general, but I’m a writer.)

Things worth doing are worth the push through. They matter more if you have to go through a push through to achieve them. When I only work out for twenty minutes, I feel good, but I don’t feel as good as if I ride the push through and then rock a fuller workout. It’s not a good workout if I’m not literally dripping sweat and my legs aren’t jelly. This is, of course, all metaphor for bleeding onto the page. Don’t half-ass your story because the push through is hard. Cut deep and wring yourself dry.

You’ll think you’re going to die in the moment, but on the other side of the push through, it’ll be worth it. I promise.

Let That Be Enough

A querying writer friend pinged me recently to ask about my publication journey, specifically how I got my agent. What was Suzie’s response time on my full? I had this posted on the old blog that went defunct, so here it is again.

I was interning for the fabulous Weronika Janczuk, just reading her requested material, when I worked up the courage to send her my query and first ten. She immediately said send the rest. Thinking I was on to something, I sent the query off to my top 20 agents. Weronika offered within the week, I emailed the agents back, requests poured in, and a week later I signed with Suzie Townsend. (Aside: Weronika is a LOVELY agent, but I clicked with Suzie best and Suzie specializes in YA. I say this because I invariably get people thinking there must be something wrong when you don’t sign with the first agent to offer. Not so.)

Now that that’s out of the way, my friend said some things that moved me to give more advice. Doing that a lot lately. I’d apologize except obviously I think I have something worth saying, and obviously I also have a big head to think you should listen to it. So here it is:

Separate the industry from the writing.

When I told my friend my timeframe, she said, “Wish I had that luck.” And that since agents had requested her full, she hoped that meant she had a good story.

Luck had nothing to do with it. Sure, I was in the right place at the right time, but that wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t been writing novels for five years already. If I hadn’t slaved over seven manuscripts before AFTER YOU. If I hadn’t racked up almost 100 rejections on prior manuscripts. If I hadn’t gotten in the habit of reading almost a dozen books a month along with craft and industry blogs.

Further, an agent requesting your manuscript means…. she’d like to see more of your manuscript. Nothing more, nothing less. Really. The story could be great or not. It means you enticed her enough with your opening pages and query.

My friend, who is a dear, has unfortunately gotten the writing and the industry entangled. She’s looking for validation where she shouldn’t. (And yes, I told her that.) Validation cannot be external or you’re going to get smashed on the rocks of other people’s whims. As I said in my other advice post, not everyone can love you. That doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. You must believe in your work on its own merit before you query; don’t look for agents or editors to tell you it’s good enough. Querying is not the testing ground for how good your book is. It’s a business proposition. Do you think you can sell this? Saleability is not the same thing as worth. I know there is an inherent value judgment – we want an agent who loves our work and thinks it’s amazing, natch – but ultimately, the question we’re asking isn’t, “do you think this is good enough to be published?” If you don’t already believe it is, don’t offer it up.

In summation:

Write.
Write your best book.
Let that be enough.

says the woman who has always believed she would be published and is, in fact, being published. And needs her ego balloon popped, stat.

The Rest Will Follow

I love reading as a way of processing things. Whether it’s my writing craft or my spirituality, books help me. Even if it’s just restating something I know, hearing it at this particular time with those particular words can make all the difference.

Given the utter upheaval a divorce is, it’s no surprise that I’ve spent many evenings in Barnes and Noble, reading every single book in their Relationships section. Let me tell you, it’s an education. Some have been very helpful – I recommend Too Good to Leave, Too Bad to Stay by Mira Kirshenbaum. Others have been head-scratching and I haven’t even picked up beyond thumbing past it on the shelf.

A specific type of book falls into the latter category. They are the dating books. They are the books with titles like “Make Him Love You” or “How to Be Irresistible” or other such malarkey. I’m sorry, it IS malarkey. Not everyone can love you. Flat out. People are people and we are not all equally compatible. But worse, my GOD! Ladies, have some self-respect. The best way to win anyone is to be yourself. Anything less will make you miserable because they won’t love you, they’ll love this half-you, this sort-of-you that you’ve presented them. That’s not fair to either of you. And even if you want to be the mask you’re wearing, if you aren’t, inside, you’re going to be doubly hurt because you’ll dislike yourself on top of feeling like you aren’t loved honestly.

That’s not to say that you can’t be a better person, and maybe you should work on being not clingy or shrill or controlling or whatever your thing is (things are, in some of our cases). But looking at the table of contents on some of these books, that’s not what they’re suggesting. They’re not saying, be the best you and people will dig you or not, they’re saying, here are some tips and tricks for making people like you. We all want to be more likable. There’s nothing wrong with that. But resorting to tips and tricks…. it doesn’t ring true. It smacks of deception, at least when it comes to romance. What are you selling, anyway?

I’ve read a lot about “love” and there seems to be a general agreement that you’re on to something when you stop thinking about what’s in it for you. These books all appeal to the selfish, looking-to-have-my-needs-met-first part of a relationship. You’re not setting yourself up on the strongest platform if that’s how you’re approaching things.

In summation:

Be yourself.
Be your best self.
The rest will follow.

…says the woman with the failed marriage. I know, I know, but gah, if you could see all those books with their false promises. It made me sad.

The Great Big But

Today’s post is only half silly, though the title is intentionally tongue-in-cheek.

I have a confession: I make excuses. I’m really good at them. I have a gift for seeing multiple facets to every situation, which is really quite handy, except when it’s not. I justify with the best of them.

This means I self-evaluate a lot, to see which facet I really agree with, or if I’m only trying to mitigate some negative feeling like shame or guilt. And I’ve come to learn the easiest tool for self-evaluation is the but. Whenever I find myself starting a sentence with it, I have to assess why I’m saying it and if it’s actually true.

“But I’m just so stressed out,” is a really common one for me, and usually is followed by, “and besides, it was only one slice of cake.” The self-aware half of my brain smirks, “One really large slice of cake.”

When we’re writing, in the moment, this great dialogue flows out and we cheer for our characters. But when we go back to edit, pay attention to the buts. What aren’t your characters seeing? What are they trying to deny? The deeper truths could be something to explore or play with, to layer in meanings.

A character who says, “But I love him,” (the title of a book by Amanda Grace), as in the book, might be trying to convince herself or to excuse his bad behavior.

I’ve gotten so good at my buts that I don’t even need to say them anymore. So consider statements that should have a but in front of them – non sequiturs are sometimes like this because the commentary in our head is filling in excuses and, yes, buts.

How important such a small word can be, right? Look deeper!

Book Homes

Do you ever read a book and feel so tethered to it and its world you feel an ache leaving it? I know lots of people read to escape but this isn’t quite the same thing. The world is so alive you feel more comfortable there than you do here sometimes. (Harry Potter, we are looking at you.)

I wonder why this is. What magic sparks in a book that resonates? I know it’s different for everyone. Is it the details? The scope? Yes, sometimes. I would argue, though, it has more to do with the reader than the book.

I find homes in books at points in my life I am adrift in my own. Like now, I am in transition, so I am primed to fall into a book. (Keturah and Lord Death at the moment.) People who routinely feel Outside more easily find homes in books. I’m not saying this as a commentary on the person, just by way of observation. We are more likely to move when we are not wholly comfortable where we’re standing.

As a writer, I want people to fall into my books. I want them to be able to find a home there. It delights me to no end to have my agent’s assistant, Sarah, go on about how she wants to fly with the sky pirates in my historical fantasy, Hours So Late. Because it means there’s something that draws her. Not just that sky pirates are cool and my particular sky pirate queen kicks total ass, but something in their portrayal and how I’ve brought them to life makes them real to Sarah (and hopefully you, someday). But not everyone will feel that way.

So, it comes down to a combination of things, then:

1. A fully realized world. No matter how much I want to fall into a book, I can’t if there’s nothing to fall into.
2. An entry point. For Harry Potter, I would argue it’s not just the existence of Hogwarts, it’s the arrival of the letter, a specific, tangible thing we can experience vicariously through Harry. It’s something we can imagine and want for ourselves – hell, it’s an invitation to a home. It doesn’t get more literal than that. We’re in.
3. A willing traveler. You can be perfectly content in your world and still fall into a story home, but you’ve probably at least got a bit of curiosity in you. Imagination is underestimated. It allows us to find resonance because we can see ourselves, can imagine ourselves in our story homes.
4. Resonance. This is the tricky part. It has to do not only with the book and ourselves, but even the moment in time. You know what I’m talking about: you read a perfectly good book and objectively can’t find a thing wrong with it, but you just didn’t like it. Or you didn’t even finish it, you have ennui about reading anything at all. Or you end up on a bent reading anything Robin McKinley-esque, yearning for that feeling of whimsy and magic to anchor you. This is the magic, the variable, the thing neither reader nor writer has any control over.

This is why we read at all.

What are some of your favorite book homes?