You don't have time for a muse

 We writers are an eccentric lot.  We love our quirks and idiosyncrasies.

Civilians – “non-writers” – find us mysterious and we love that.  There are few things with greater cache than mystery.

Mystery allows us to create a sacred space that is untouchable.  Our loved ones respect it, even tiptoe around it. 

If we have incense and chimes, or white noise and blinders, it simply adds to our inscrutability.  The only other room in the house with such an invisible force field around it might be the bathroom.

The downside of all the enigma is that we abuse it.

Admit it.  It’s all too easy to close the door, dim the lights, pull up a blank document and stare.  For a little while.

Some of us have been known to open multiple screens.  One blank document, one Words with Friends, a YouTube and Wikipedia.  We can rationalize all of these as mind-freeing, meditative research.

We are masters at minimizing when prying eyes come near…What?!!  I’m writing!

Well that just won’t do.

Pablo Picasso said, “Inspiration exists, but it has to find us working.”

So set aside your alter ego, perfectionism, and get to work. 

Set a goal for the amount of time you’ll write every day.  Make it manageable.  Small is good.  Small does not intimidate.

Bring in the kitchen timer, set it and WRITE.

And write BEFORE you do ANYTHING else.  Really.

Chances are good that when the timer goes off, you’ll have a bit more in you and not want to stop.  But even if you do stop, you can stop with a measure of satisfaction.  You accomplished something extremely important. 


You wrote today.

The Personal is the Universal

A perennial excuse, er, reason for abandoning a writing project is that no one will be interested in reading it.

I mean, who really cares about your hangnail?

Maybe you’re right. 

But look.  Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist Connie Schultz wrote about cutting her hair – or rather not cutting it – in her first contribution of her new agreement with Parade magazine.

Just let that settle in for a moment:  Pulitzer Prize winner writes about her haircut. 

And because she talked about middle-aged women getting haircuts that make them look like they’re wearing football helmets, I took offense.  I’d just cut my hair into a skull-hugging protective device, you see. 

Her personal experience hit home with me.

So I took the topic and ran with it.  Put my own spin on it.  Gave it a fresh (I hope) perspective on getting older and wanting to look good.  (You can read that column, “Helmet Head at the Bates Motel,” elsewhere in this volume of Epiphany.)

The take away is that, while any individual’s experience of aging will be unique and personal, almost everyone can relate to the phenomenon.  Hearing how you’re dealing with it can be energizing and affirming…if it’s well written.

Whether we cling to that last greying strand of our youth or shave it off without sentiment, we all have hair.  We all can appreciate the metaphor.

Morgan Freeman frequently opens episodes of “Through the Wormhole” with a story of his childhood encounters with the mysteries of nature.

The President cites a single citizen by name and tells her individual story to illustrate his point about healthcare for all citizens.

The personal is the universal.

And so, Dream Writer – Don’t discount your experiences. 

Whenever you tell the truth about making your way through the world, or making your way through the parking lot, you are telling the truth for lots of us. 

If it’s frustrating, funny, poignant or pissy, the truth resonates with humanity.


You should write it because you’re the one who can write. 

Start your story in the thick of it

Today’s readers have the attention span of a gnat.  No patience!  No appreciation of the written word! 

OK, you’re right, video games did it.  Or maybe it was CSI, solving all those crimes so fast.  Or maybe it was all that tedious buildup getting in the way of what’s immediate in your story. 

Folks ~ facts is facts and writers have to face ‘em!  Too many words is too many words.  Like they say in the movies:  Cut to the chase! 

Eliminate all that verbiage that explains the motivation of the tortoise and the hare.  You can come back around to it later.  We want to see the race. 

Don’t expect your reader to dredge through the deep and lengthy psychological explanation of what happened when the man was a little boy that makes him want to set his parents’ house on fire before he even stops at the gas station.   

Start with him in their bedroom, the spilled liquid, the fumes rising around him and the match in his hand.  After I’ve seen that, I’ll want to know why.  I’ll keep reading. 

What?!!  But I have to set the scene!  I have to give some back-story!  Otherwise my readers won’t know who’s on first!  They’ll be confused.  

Really?  Or do you just love your own writing so much that you can’t cut the superfluous? 

Be honest now, which of these story starters would keep you reading: 

Madeline Harris was dating an organic apple farmer from Lodi.  She drove a school bus in Moravia.  [Ho hum!  Not confused, but also, not interested.] 

Or, 

Madeline Harris showed up out of nowhere one night at Lucy’s Tavern and beat Hank, the owner, three times in a row at darts.  [Really!?  Who is this Madeline?  Is she married?  Why is she alone at night in a bar?]
 

******** 

Bill Kane had a lean, tough face and sandy-colored hair.  He had sworn off women since his last girlfriend.  [Zzzzzz.] 

Or, 

Bill Kane watched partly because Madeline was good-looking and partly because he liked to see Hank, his boss, lose.  [Hmmm!  What kind of man is Bill Kane?  How did his face get so tough?  What’s up between him and Hank?] 

[These examples excerpted and paraphrased from “later, at the bar,” by Rebecca Barry.] 

Today’s takeaway ~  

Don’t get all self-righteous and indignant about your “literature.”  

Jump into the action to snag your readers.  They’ll hang around for the back-story when your story’s well told.