2018 Gift Guide for Feisty Writers

It’s that time of year again, and we’ve compiled another fantastic list of gift ideas from our Feisty team for your favorite writer.

Lisa Franek’s Gift Ideas:

1. Literary Insults Chart $25

a chart of literary insults

For those times when your words fail you, you can turn to the masters for a quippy turn of phrase when you need it most.

2. Scrivener $45

Scrivener software logo

I bought this writing program several years ago and haven’t looked back since. It’s perfect for organizing long-form works (like novels, screenplays, plays, and so on), and formats like a dream. Every writer should have it.

 3. “Tequila Mockingbird” by Tim Federle and Lauren Mortimer $10

the book cover for Tequila Mockingbird book

For your writer friends who like a little spirit with their story, this book is full of fun recipes to try (Are You There God? It’s Me, Margarita.). Just remember: Write drunk, but edit sober.

Lisa Whalen’s Gift Ideas:

1. The INFJ Writer by Lauren Sapala
Book Cover for The INFJ Writer book
Though aimed at INFJs (on the Myers Briggs Personality Type Indicator), it’s a helpful guide to the writing process for all writers, especially introverts. It’s encouraging and offers exercises for inspiration and overcoming writer’s block.
2.The Emotion Thesaurus and The Negative Trait Thesaurus by Angela Ackerman and Becca Puglisi.
book covers for Emotion Thesaurus and twoother books by same authors

 

These books will help you develop believable characters and avoid using the same descriptive phrase repeatedly.

3. Power Structure Storytelling Software

Power Structure logo

This easy-to-learn program offers a variety of ways to consider and shape any story. Writers can isolate or link features that include line graphs for plot, flash cards for character traits, arcs for character development, tabs for chapters and sections, and word processing for the actual text.
a picture of two mugs for writers

Their selection of mugs expresses our sentiments exactly.

 

Marijke McCandless’s Gift Ideas:

1. “Educated” by Tara Westover
Book Cover for Educated

2. “Tarot for Writers” by Corrine Kenner

Book Cover for Tarot for Writers

3.“H is for Hawk” by Helen MacDonald

Book Cover for H is for Hawk

A great memoir illustrating how to take a niche passion (Goshawk training) and build a true story for everyone.

Marni Freedman’s Gift Ideas:

The logo for Audible, an Amazon Company
Writers can use it to download audiobooks, magazines, and newspapers to their computer, tablet or phone.
Use the above link to get 50% off the first three months.
Necklace that says I am not afraid, I was born to do this
Book Cover for Excuses Begone
This is a great book when you are wondering how to actually change old thinking that can sabotage your writing like “I’m too old/too young,” “I’m too busy/tired,” “Who am I do write a book?” or “I can’t change my habits, this is the way I’ve always done it.” It’s the kind of book you can keep by your bedside and reread the sections that will gently challenge your old thinking and charge you up as you nurture your passion.

Paula Margulies’s Gift Ideas:

1. Archangel Gabriel Oracle Cards by Doreen Virtue

A picture of Archangel Gabriel Oracle Cards

These gorgeous cards are great for creativity, teaching, and parenting. I bought mine at the temple on Meditation Mountain in Ojai and really love them (they’re spiritual, but not overly religious).
2. Writing gloves from Storiarts
picture of writing gloves
This website features scarves, bags, and other items with words from famous works of fiction on them, but I love the writing gloves (with fingertips cut out) for typing on cold mornings. A portion of the proceeds goes to LitWorld, a non-profit organization dedicated to tackling illiteracy worldwide.
3. T-shirts, socks, and onesies from Out of Print
Little Golden Books t-shirt
Out of Print has clothing for lovers of all things literary. If you know anyone expecting, check out the cute assortment of onesies featuring children’s book titles.

Tracy Jones’ Gift Ideas:

a photo of The Wild Unknown Tarot Deck
One of my clients brought these to my writers’ retreat, and I loved them! Each of the seventy-eight cards is gorgeous with hand-drawn, striking images that explore the mysteries of the natural world and animal kingdom. It also comes with a beautiful guidebook. Try asking your character a question or how to structure a scene and see what the tarot inspires.
A photo of Blessings Gratitude cards
In our chaotic times, it often takes practice and dedication to find joy and peace. This is my gift to myself this holiday season to keep focused and grateful on what matters in life: healthy, family, friends, and writing!
Photo of cross pen
A client recently gave me a Cross pen, and I was brought back in time to receiving an engraved one from my grandparents when I graduated high school. It’s long lost now, but the memory remains. I had forgotten what a real pen feels like and it’s a delight to write with. If you’re like every writer I know who is always searching for a pen, treat yourself. (The engraving makes this a great gift!)
Photo Credit to Feisty bloggers and Amazon.com

Read and Critique

emoji scale from angry to happyReading my work aloud, followed by a peppering of critiques, sounded like a college hazing to me. Minus the alcohol. However, I had agreed with my writing coach, published author and ridiculously talented playwright (her most recent work—A Jewish Joke—is moving east, Off Broadway), that my work was ripe for fresh ears. Her group convenes at a California seaside cottage belonging to a creative artist named Barbara.

A First Impression

On that first day—my blind date with this scholarly firing squad—I cradled the introduction of my non-fiction self-help book under my arm as I opened the gate to Barbara’s property. Her garden telegraphed Henri Rousseau—towering birds of paradise, pebbled paths, a lush green backdrop.

I opened the cottage door to a cozy living room. Women of all ages greeted me with smiles and welcoming noises. Their chorus of “Hi, come on in!” did nothing to calm my nerves. These writers looked harmless, but I feared the worst. After all, my flimsy introduction made no sense. My writing lacked clarity, relevance, and imagery. The perfect expression of my work had eluded me despite my years of on-again, off-again attempts.

Thanks to the heavy lifting of my writing coach and my years of indentured servitude to my own determination, I held the semblance of a rough draft. Despite my misgivings, in the recesses of my soul, I held onto the faint hope that my writing was pretty darned good. That I was “almost finished.” I imagined the group’s hints about grammar or sequence. But the realistic part of me suspected that I had “miles to go before I would sleep.”

As we mingled, I wandered through Barbara’s home. I admired the colorful mugs on her kitchen counter, the tangerines, and almonds offered as snacks, the bold oil paintings on her dining room walls.

Shaking the hands of my fellow creatives, I warmed to the idea that reading might be fun.

Then we convened. Our leader, my beloved writing coach, began with her hilarious and warm introduction. Personal stories were shared, reports on projects bandied about. Then the invitation, would I like to read? I cleared my throat, and read in my best professional voice.

Having conducted workshops for my counselor peers, having taught for decades, having counseled belligerent parents whose violence required a police presence, NONE of these experiences prepared me for the sharing of my written words. Feeling equal parts faint and nauseated, I read my introduction to the listening audience.

Later That Night

Arriving home after that first dive, I told my husband, “Maybe I’m not ready for this read and critique challenge.” He asked me to elaborate.

“They’re all very encouraging. Lots of ‘this process will help people’ and ‘your message is good,’ but I could feel my words dying as they left my mouth. Each sentence felt like torture. I HATED my own work.”

I explained that the group did offer editing nuggets: structural advice, conceptual criticism, grammar tips. But all this help would force  me back to the page in a way that made my head spin. I had SO hoped to be nearing the finish line. Instead, I was just hearing a starting gun.

Of course, other members had arrived with their hot-off-the-press prose. I’d acted as a beta-reader for one of the authors. The sharing of her hilarious romp through China had us hooting with laughter. Pitch perfect comedy. Her work is destined for the big screen.

Then the amazing memoirists—their ability to lift their personal plights to compelling narrative—brilliance. And a travel writer who had us salivating for our next adventure. Every single writer at the top of her game. Oh, and the witty journalist whose intelligence shines through her every muscular sentence. Not fair!

One of our authors is a playwright. Our collective jaws dropped when she re-enacted one woman’s experience of the Nuremberg trials, props and flawless German accent included. Dazzling talent, destined for greatness.

I reminded myself that I was not competing. It was an honor to be among these creative creatures.

I cried on my husband’s shoulder for a few more moments, but then I HAD to make an attempt. Bitten by the bug of creative compulsion, I locked myself in the study. I cut, tore and soldered words onto the page. Every day for a week, I entered
that study with grim determination. Then a return performance.

Nevertheless, I Persisted

Back to the garden of verses, my revised introduction in my sweaty hands. I began. My words flowed easily. The body and fender work had paid off. They laughed; they applauded; I blushed.

Now, months later, I still feel a frisson of excitement each time I open the gate to Barbara’s garden. I live for Thursday mornings.

I can hardly wait for the unfolding of each writer’s next chapter. And, of course, for their responses to whatever I managed to whittle into a block of writing for my next reading.

 

Phyllis Olins headshotPhyllis Olins holds a master’s degree in counseling and has trained extensively

in conflict mediation. She has had over 20 years of experience in applying conflict-mediation

strategies to dilemmas in all walks of life.

 

Phyllis’ book, The Conflict Crunch, will be released in the spring of 2019.

 

Three Reasons to Write About Things We Don’t Talk About

The logo for the San Diego Memoir ShowcaseWhen we were brainstorming ideas for themes for this year’s San Diego Memoir Showcase, one theme kept circling back: Things We Don’t Talk About. People loved the idea, except for one cranky writer who came up to me and asked, “I don’t get it, why in the world would we want to write about things we don’t talk about?”

The question made me think. I didn’t have an answer at that moment, so I let it percolate until I realized that for me, there are three reasons:

 

  1. It feels like setting a big bag of rocks down that you have been unknowingly lugging around for years.

    I have to admit; I am sort of addicted to the feeling now. I love to “let go” of rocks before they pile up and become too heavy. One writer described her experience to me a few weeks ago as a weight off her chest—as if she could more fully take an in breath, and more fully exhale—for no other reason than she put down in words what she thought she would never share.

  1. The fear of people knowing your deep, dark secret—of judging you, and blaming you—it all sort of dissipates.

    The truth is, yeah, others may know, and so what?  We all have stuff we think no one will understand. Either they will or they won’t, but by facing the faceless monster, you are taking away the monster’s power. It’s empowering as you realize you don’t need to run anymore, you can stand in the light of your truth.

  1. You are speaking for those who feel they have no voice. 

    I can’t tell you how many times when a writer has taken a risk and shared his or her truth that someone comes up to them and thanks them. I hear sentiments like, “Thank you for putting my experience into words,” or “I had something just like that happen to me—I thought it was just me,” or “I feel less alone after hearing what you wrote.”

These moments are such full circle moments—we hide because we think we are the only ones with that kind of pain, then we share it—to realize just how many have experienced a similar kind of pain. By sharing what we are most afraid to share, we create community, spark healing in others while we heal ourselves.

For submission guidelines, click here. I if you have any questions, please contact me at Marnifreedman18@gmail.com. Please put Memoir Showcase 2018 in the subject line. I can’t wait to hear your stories about writing what you thought you could not.

Photo Courtesy of San Diego Memoir Showcase

The Ups and Downs of NaNoWriMo by Danielle Baldwin

an archery target with grass in the backgroundNovember is National Novel Writing Month, otherwise known as NaNoWriMo. During November, participants are encouraged to write an entire 50,000-word novel in thirty days. With just shy of 400,000 people participating last year, it’s become more and more popular.

November, as described by most writing coaches, is also every writer’s favorite freak out month. Inevitably, writers that participate in NaNoWriMo feel the pressure to churn out word count. This often leads to a crappy first draft. Not normal crappy first drafts that all of us write. Like super crappy—think crappy but with a cape. On December 1st, writers sit down to look at their 50,000-word novel and experience a NaNoWriMo hangover. The late-night caffeine-infused writing sessions that fueled their 50,000-word bender felt good at the time. But then they open their draft to find it isn’t organized. It’s full of character inconsistencies, odd word choices, and flat writing. The prospect of fixing these 50,000 words is overwhelming, but the thought of tossing it is equally inconceivable. Depression sets in and writing coaches spend weeks trying to shake their writers out of a funk.

Despite all of this, NaNoWriMo is still a great idea. That’s right, despite your lasting mental image of NaNoWriMo as a flying poop emoji, there are a lot of benefits to participation. Here are a few good reasons:

Discipline and Focus

We’ve all heard that it takes 21 days to make a habit.  As it turns out, it actually takes 60+ days. Considering I can be weaker willed when it comes to writing, I still hang on to that 21-day myth.

While scientifically speaking I may not be building a new habit (or breaking one for that matter), I am making a routine, and once I build a routine, I’m far more likely to stick to it.

Everyone has different writing habits that work for them. There is no magical key to success. With that said, the majority of “successful” writers will tell you that you need to write every day. I’ll share an example:

A few years ago, I heard Salman Rushdie speak. As often happens during the Q&A session, someone stood up and warbled the question, “What advice do you have for budding writers?”

Rushdie tented his eyes with his hands so he could see the young man standing with the microphone in the audience of 800 people from his spot on the stage.

“Well,” he said, “being a writer is all about your time in the chair.”
The young man nodded vigorously.

“So the more time you spend in the chair, the more writing you’ll get done.”

More bobblehead nodding action from the man at the microphone. He continued to stare at Rushdie, not yet satisfied.

Rushdie realized the young man was still standing. He sighed and reached over to sip water from his glass on the stool next to him. The room was quiet. He cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone.

“So my best advice to you, young man, is to sit the f@#$ down.”

And there you have it. Why participate in Nanowrimo? Because it gets you in the habit of sitting the f@#$ down every day.

SMART Goals

I know the goal of NaNoWriMo is to write 50,000 words in a month. I’d encourage you to start by throwing that goal right out the window.

A SMART goal is one that is specific, measurable, achievable, realistic and time-based. To craft a smart goal, the key is in the “r” for realistic. Setting a word count goal does NOT need to be based on the 50,000 goal for NaNoWriMo. Figure out what your average word count is per hour and set your goals accordingly.

I prefer weekly goals. This gives me some flexibility. So instead of saying “I’m going to write 1,000 words per day,” you can set your goal at 7,000 words for the week (or whatever works for you). Some days you’re going to come home after a long day of work to a broken refrigerator, dog puke on the carpet, and your longest-winded neighbor trapping you at your mailbox with a diatribe about people speeding in the neighborhood. When you’ve extracted yourself thirty minutes later, sitting down for an hour or two to write feels impossible. So don’t. Sit down for 45 minutes. Maybe half an hour. Fifteen minutes if you’re dying, but you know what? It’s 100 more words than you would have gotten normally. Or 200, or 500. And you can still make it up on another day when you’ve got more time and energy to put towards your writing.

Build Your Writing Tribe

NaNoWriMo is well organized. In addition to a website to track your progress and earn badges, there are pop up groups across town you can join to write in solidarity. I’ve even been a part of virtual groups where we wrote via Google Hangouts.

NaNoWriMo meet-ups, both in person and virtual, are a great way to build your writing tribe. If you haven’t had the opportunity to sit in a room with a bunch of other writers and write, I highly recommend it. These are your people. They understand the pain of sitting down and getting words on the page. Their encouragement feels real because they know the pitfalls. You’re also less likely to jack around on social media. You’re part of a writing collective, and it feels amazing.

So don’t give up on NaNoWriMo just yet. While you may not write a 50,000-word novel, you may finish the one that you’ve been working on, bang out some great short stories, or even try your hand at poetry. Good luck and happy writing.

 

Photo Credit: https://pixabay.com/472932/

Cherish Your Darlings

two hands offering a flower with a black backgroundYou’re in your writing group, about to read aloud the best thing you’ve ever written. It’s brilliant, it’s poignant, and you’re bursting to share it. You take a deep breath and begin. At the end, you look up, awaiting praise. Your friends are staring at the floor.

“I didn’t totally understand that part,” one says. “I think you can tighten this,” says another. That one lady with the great insights who always gets your work says, “I liked it overall, but I think you can cut the part where …” and then she describes your moment of greatest brilliance. As something to discard.

We all know about darlings. They’re the parts you think are amazing that everyone else knows are anything but. We all know what you do with darlings. You kill them.

That’s right, of course. There’s no part of your book so good it should stay if it isn’t serving the whole. And, let’s be honest, often those “brilliant” bits are self-indulgent, over-written messes. (Though I once read advice that defined a “darling” as any passage the author especially liked. It went on to say that the first step in editing was to delete whichever parts you were most fond of. For the love of Bob and all that is holy, don’t do that.)

But—and here’s the controversial part—I think believing your readers over your instincts is wrong.

Oh, definitely get a writing group you can trust. When they say, “it’s not working,” believe them. Instincts aren’t born, they’re tempered with time. Fail often, and you’ll learn what works and doesn’t work. You’ll carry your writing group in your head and fix mistakes before your group even sees them. This is how you hone your instincts.

Once you’ve developed good instincts, you’ll still need that group. Sometimes you need a sanity check. Or you need somebody else’s take on an issue. Sometimes you’ve just got to hear how prose lands. You never stop needing that in some form or other.

But when your group says something doesn’t work, your next step is not dry your tears and rush off to delete it. (Or even relocate it to a clippings file, though Melissa Bloom has a great post on how to do that when the time comes.) The next step is to look at the work as a whole. Ask yourself, does this passage serve the larger purpose? Does it make the book better?

Often, it won’t. Your reader says, “That moment doesn’t work,” and you agree. Or you do some arguing and bargaining and painful soul-searching and eventually agree. It’s the wrong beat, or it’s too flowery, or it reiterates something your readers knew already. That’s when you kill it. (Or, you know. Clippings file.)

Sometimes, though, all your instincts insist the moment is vital to the story. It’s not just (allegedly) beautifully written, you need it to convey your meaning. Your readers tell you to cut it, and you can’t. You have no idea how you know, but you know it’s important.

So don’t kill it. Dig deeper. Why do your instincts and your readers disagree?

Maybe you introduced the moment poorly. Or you didn’t flesh it out enough. Maybe it’s something so obvious to you-you’re still finding the words for it. Sometimes the hardest ideas to explain are the true ones.

You may dig way, way down just to discover your readers were right. You have blindspots, and I guarantee you others see them more clearly than you do. When your readers say, “This part doesn’t work,” believe them.

But when your instincts say, “This part is vital,” believe them too. Because sometimes, against all precedent and logic and the feedback of your time-tested writing group, your instincts will insist a moment is right.

Good. Go clean the damned thing up until your readers say so too.

Photo Credit: https://unsplash.com/photos/p-ppCccUZiU

Rant by Nancy Villalobos, Feisty Writer Guest Blogger

side view of a human skullWhat were you feeling?

What was your emotional response to that?

Show more of your emotion.

The other writers in my Read and Critique group pounded away on this theme after I read from my memoir the latest revision of an experience that occurred more than fifty years ago. When I was in Lima, Peru as a 20-year-old international student, I’d gotten locked in the cathedral that holds Pizarro’s tomb. I thought that was a pretty interesting vignette, even mildly humorous.

I had written it exactly as it happened. I described the day, the surroundings, the interior of the church. I described the way I’d taken a long time to find the tomb and what it looked like and then the realization I was locked in. I finished up with my escape at the hands of a disgruntled priest with a bit of translated dialogue. I even closed the piece (really a chapter) with a foreshadowing of the obstacle that had arisen in the rest of my life, the subject of the next chapter. I’d done a defensible job of relating the events of the day. I didn’t know what else to say without making something up. I hadn’t felt like crying or laughing or screaming. I’d just wanted out of the church so I could get to my class on time.

My friends avoided my gaze, unhappy at not being able to applaud my efforts.

“But what were you feeling?”

Enthusiasm drained out of my pores and pooled around my unemotional feet.

Digging deep into my memory after I got home, I kept coming up empty. They expected me to feel something, but what?

The more I thought about it, the only emotional response I felt was anger at the beloved members of my group. Why did they keep harping on this? It happened in 1965, and I really couldn’t remember feeling anything.

What did they want me to feel? Joy? No. An intense spiritual awakening? No. Fear? Nope. Panic? Not really. Despair? Seriously? Anger? Not then.

My list of emotions I hadn’t felt grew. I began an imaginary conversation with that group of very stubborn people who only wanted to make me a better writer but who refused to accept that what I had felt at the time of the event was NOTHING. Why was that so hard to get?

Listen, I would say to them, the only thing I wanted on that day in Lima was to find the tomb of Pizarro. I wanted to see if that skeleton was really there and I wanted to see what it looked like. Period.

And right then my imaginary conversation petered out.

Because…I had really WANTED to find that tomb. It was almost like a quest—Harrison Ford in his battered hat. So, I must have felt ANTICIPATION. And I knew the skeleton was in that church, so I must have felt the EXCITEMENT about seeing it, and I must have had the EXPECTATION of fulfilling my quest. And because I’d never seen a relic, I must have been filled with CURIOSITY. And when I finally found the tomb, and it wasn’t what I’d expected, I must have felt at least mild DISAPPOINTMENT. And when I realized that I’d been locked in, I must have felt FRUSTRATION and CONCERN ABOUT BEING LATE. At the very end, I must have felt CHAGRIN at not having paid attention to my surroundings after the doors were locked. And then I remembered walking out of the church feeling pretty STUPID.

Damn! This was working.

I peeped at my pages again. Yes, I could add an adjective here, another line of dialogue there, a tighter or looser description, move this phrase to the end of the sentence, add a final paragraph with a takeaway—something the reader could relate to. And, in the end, a tiny little phrase rang like a timid bell in the recesses of my writer’s brain: I’d been telling about my experience, but when I’d been able to resuscitate my emotional state, I was able to show.

Sometimes it takes an emotional response to critique to elicit the emotional response to an event.

 

Headshot of authorABOUT NANCY: When not revising her memoir, sending out query letters, and building her blog queue, Nancy loves being on Nana duty with Lucas, her newest grandson, attending Cavalier King Charles Spaniel meet-ups with her Tri-color Coco, or traveling with family and friends. Her writing has been featured in the Memoir Writers Showcase. Her memoir, Peru, My Other Country, chronicles her twenty years there as an American married to a Peruvian in the midst of revolution, earthquakes, and her husband’s untimely death, until an extortion call during the Shining Path terrorist movement forced her to choose where her loyalties lay: in her adopted country or in the land of her birth.

Photo Credit: pixabay.com-476740

 

My New Narrative by Danielle Baldwin

A group holding their hands in solidarity in the center of a circle“Hi, I’m Danielle. I work in new business and strategy,” I would say, balancing my tiny spear of Swedish meatballs in one hand while I extended the other at a networking event. The person I was introducing myself to would nod, acknowledging my role, recognizing the large company I worked for. We’d sip cheap red wine and talk about our industry. I felt confident in my place in the world and in my “story” as a corporate executive.

I never introduced myself as a writer. It was a subplot to the “story of Danielle,” written into casual conversations about hobbies, somewhere between “brussels sprouts connoisseur” and “die-hard dog person.”

Two weeks ago, I attended a small business expo. This was my first time introducing myself as a writer in a professional setting. I felt shaky, worried that as I uttered the words, someone might laugh. They might tilt their head, the way my dog Nala does when she hears a sound she doesn’t recognize. Would people recognize me as a writer when it was hard enough for me to recognize myself?

Fear pushed aside, I pulled my shoulders back and for several hours of networking, introduced myself as a writer. Generally speaking, I heard these three responses over the course of the event:

  1. “Ohhhhh, that’s interesting,” they’d say, eyes sweeping the horizon for an escape route, looking as though they’d just swallowed a live chicken. As we continued our conversation in halting phrases, one of their body parts would begin to bounce or twitch. They’d see “someone they know” at the farthest corner of the room, and were gone so fast I was surprised they didn’t leave smoke trails.
  2. “That’s so cool, I write, too! I’ve got a great idea for a book, it’s about this guy who’s a sloth keeper on a frozen planet…(fast forward several minutes) do you do any ghostwriting?” Their eyes bright and I’d smile, mentally taking inventory of my own partially edited manuscript, all my unwritten blogs posts, the deadline for an article, which I was now counting down in hours instead of days. Our conversation would pitter-patter back and forth, until they realized I was not going to write their book for them, and then they were off to refill their drink.
  3. “Interesting. What kind of writing do you do and what are you currently working on?” A book person, I’d think to myself, thank you, Jesus. I’d list the different types of freelance projects I have in the works and mention I’m in the process of editing my manuscript.

“What type of manuscript? Fiction?” they’d ask.

“No, memoir actually,” I’d say.

Here is where the conversation would hit a pivotal moment and I’d watch them curiously, knowing our casual chatter would abruptly end or shift to a deeper level of dialogue.

If it started with an awkward silence, then I knew the rest of the conversation was going to flop around like a dying fish on a dock. They would avoid asking me questions about my project or joke about how I’m neither old enough nor have the life experience to write a memoir. I’d laugh and ask them a question about their line of work, watching the worry lines between their eyebrows soften, and knew the conversation was not veering anywhere near writing again—not memoir, not freelance, not writing of any kind.

Those who were brave maintained eye contact and asked about the subject matter of my memoir. When I’d tell them it is a story about motherhood and my journey through the fertility process while losing my mom to cancer, I’d carefully watch their face, high-fiving them in my mind for hanging on for the ride. To the man (or woman), they’d smile, and I’d let out the breath I was holding in. Then we’d talk about the challenge they’d had having kids or about how hard it is when your parents are aging, or about writing, or something else entirely. These were the folks who asked me for my business card and gave me theirs in return.

This was a chance for me to learn how to tell my new narrative. Without fear. Without judgment. And while it may take me some time to get used to it, I like this new story, and I’m excited to tell it.

 

Photo by rawpixel.com on Unsplash

5 Places to Find Your Tribe

A black and white photo of many frogs with red eyes

  1. Writing Groups. I’ve been in a few groups, and let me tell you, they are wonderful. The sense of community is almost always immediate, and I guarantee that if you are experiencing some sort of difficulty with your work, someone else is too. I also like these groups because I get to see people develop and grow, which is fun and inspiring. Writing groups can also help improve your craft, which is never a bad thing. They support me when I need encouragement, and they call me on my bullshit.
  1. Reading Groups. It’s amazing to talk to people who love literature. Because they don’t just sorta kinda like this stuff. They loooove it. They breathe it in, over and over again until it feels like part of their soul, and they can’t help but talk about it. And that kind of enthusiasm and love is contagious. It reminds me of why I write, and how people communicate, and how sublime and transcendent writing can really be.
  1. Meetup Groups. I recommend hanging out with non-writers who are interested in something you’re interested in. I got interested in gardening a few years back, and so I went to a Meetup Group interested in permaculture (look it up, it’s pretty fascinating stuff), where I learned to air-layer a tree (similar to a graft). It was amazing and new, and I came away inspired by how many possibilities exist in the world around me. I also made some great friends and now have a yard that shows the effort of learning. Like writing a book, but it’s a yard. And the truth is, learning never hurts your writing. Never. Plus, you’re less of a moron every time you learn something, and there are definitely too many morons in the world today. **Cough**Trump**Cough**
  1. Conventions. I’ve been to things like Comic-Con and Wondercon and other random stuff. I’ve been to writing conferences, film conferences, and so on. Yes, they can be pricey, so I use them as rewards or vacations. And the people I’ve met at these things are really wonderful people. They’ve spent the money, made the commitment, and they’re in it with both feet. These are the kinds of people I want to be around. I don’t want to be around half-hearted hipsters who like things ironically and feign disinterest because they might be seen as uncool. And those people wouldn’t be caught dead at a convention.
  1. Fairs/Events. Book-signings, film festivals, art fairs, museum events, and so on are great places. Not only do you have the interaction with vendors, but also with other fans. They’re kind of like conventions in that regard. It’s also great for people watching, which is one of my favorite past times, and I remember it for when I need to write characters. Creepy as it sounds, observing people and remembering what they do is how writers find authenticity without having to write about their spouses or family (which always gets you into trouble).

PHOTO CREDIT: https://pixabay.com/1422219/

So You Wanna Write for The Feisty Writer. What’s Next?

The Feisty Writer Logo a Hand Holding a PenAh, jeez, thanks for your interest! We’re thrilled you love our site and want to join our roster of talented and spunky writers. As we approach our one-year anniversary, we’re looking for even more unique voices that offer fresh and original insights on writing and the writer’s life.

Is that right up your alley? Are you already feisty by nature? Great! Please look over our guest blogger guidelines below and then send in your submission. Best of luck and thanks again for your interest.

The Feisty Writer Guest Blogger Guidelines 

Submit blogs to The Feisty Writer Co-Editor, Tracy Jones, at tjjones1@gmail.com. You will receive a response within ten days of submitting.

Word Count: Short and sweet is best. Blogs should be at least 350 words and ideally no more than 1,000 words. If truly needed, blogs up to 1,300 words will be considered.

The Feisty Writer Voice: Of course, feisty. Punchy writing. You have something to say and aren’t afraid to shout it from the rafters. You have a distinct point of view. You’ve got something to get off your chest. You’re honest. You’re not scared to be vulnerable. You are not shy. Different is celebrated here.

The Feisty Writer Topics: Writing and the writer’s life but with a twist.

What’s the twist: your creativity and originality in how you approach writing. How to Be a Feisty Submitter—The Mustard Factor, Writing Through Trump, Establish Your Code: Navigating the Rules of Writing, Genderqueer, 5 Things My Inner Critic Says and How I Shut Her Up, Racist Bitch, Hitting the Wall, and Bring the Lover to the Bedroom are just a few of our favorite blogs.

We love informative blogs that show our readers the time, research, and love you spent in creatively organizing important information.

We live for inspiring blogs. Blogs that showcase how you overcame a writing challenge or roadblock, got to the other side, and how they can do the same thing, too. Share success stories that will have our readers dying to write.

A sense of urgency that ignites a flame under our readers’ butts, that the time is now to write, and that we’re going to be on this journey with them.

Embrace the Feisty Tribe: We want our readers to feel informed, inspired, and that they are part of a growing Feisty Writer movement. We want our readers to get to know YOU through your blog. Share your soul; let your freak flag fly. Almost any personal story, shitty experience, triumph or quiet moment can teach about writing or tell us something about the writer’s journey.

Risk, Dig Deep: This is the site where if you’re a little scared to hit submit, you’re probably on to something great. Be brave. Risk it all by being your most creative, vulnerable or opinionated self. Dare to be different.

If Accepted: We reserve the right to edit your piece including picking a new title that we feel may generate more clicks and views. You might also be set up with one of our two site editors to further edit and polish your piece. They’re experienced, easy to work with, and invested in helping our writers perfect their posts.

We will need a headshot/selfie, preferably one that showcases your personality and is more creative or fun compared to a corporate headshot. We will also need a short bio to include at the end of your blog. Again, highlight what you do in two to three sentences, and, if you can have a little fun, all the better. If you would like to add a link to your personal blog/website/Amazon page, we will happily include it.

A Note on Rejections: Due to our site’s unique voice and development of The Feisty Writer brand, not all guest blogs can be accepted. We are writers, too, and have had more than our fair share of rejection. We, too, hate rejection and understand your pain, anger or frustration if your blog isn’t right for our site. But know, it just isn’t a fit or a fit for now. And, it may be perfect for any other number of blogs out there. Please don’t let a ‘no’ from us deter your writing in any way. Keep writing, submit to other blogs, and if you have a more “feisty natured” blog in you, please resubmit!

Writing Full Time—Living the Dream? By Danielle Baldwin, the Newest Feisty Writer

A Smith-Corona typewriter

When I was six, I spent every Sunday morning sitting at the kitchen table with my mom. She would hover over the New York Times crossword puzzle, pencil poised as the smoke from her Kent Kings pulled lazily into the air. Some days I’d help, pushing my cereal bowl to the side to man the thesaurus and dictionary to help her look up words. Other mornings, I would pound away on her portable blue Smith Corona typewriter, crafting a story about flying giraffes or kung fu fighting squirrels.  I knew from those early years, swimming around in the words, splashing them onto the page, that I wanted to be a writer.

It was a dream I pursued through high school and college, one fiction or poetry workshop after the next. But when graduation came, so did a flood of fear; that I wasn’t good enough, that I couldn’t make a living doing what I loved. So instead of pursuing a career in writing, I got a “real job.”

I never left writing completely. I would steal loving glances at it on weekends, working on my manuscript, a short story, or even flash fiction. We’d meet in coffee shops, lock ourselves away in my home office. I’d attend writing retreats and conferences so we could spend more time together. I dreamed of being a writer full time.

So, at the end of last year, when my boss told me that my position was being eliminated, I was more ecstatic than sad. I could spend every waking moment working on my manuscript. This was my chance to become the writer that I’d always wanted to be!

The first few days after the holidays as a “full-time writer” went well. I was focused, energetic and eager to get to the page every morning. But as the days passed, my resolve wavered. Some days I would sit down at my desk, and it was just like days of old—I felt inspired, creative, the words flowed. Other days, I felt like taking a jackhammer to my keyboard.

While I made progress on the manuscript, I was surprised at how hard it was to stay focused.  I found every excuse I could not to sit down and write—laundry or dishes, an errand to be run, a phone call to make. One day, my procrastination efforts were so extreme that I chose to steam clean my furniture instead of sitting down at my computer.  Before losing my job, I could always fall back on a long list of excuses as to why the writing “couldn’t” get done, most of which involved a lack of time or brain capacity to do it. But now? There were no more excuses, and yet, there were some days that I had nothing on the page.

I learned some valuable lessons. Creative work, or really any type of work that happens outside of a traditional corporate environment feels different. The pace of my days changed from having every minute accounted for in meetings or deadlines to relatively open and unscheduled. To feel like I was still accomplishing something, it was important for me to build in some structure: writing dates with friends, accountability partners to keep me on track, and joining a professionally led read and critique group where I have pages due every other week.

I learned to have more patience with myself. There are times to work through your writing, to keep your butt in the chair and your fingers on your keyboard, and there are times to step away. I had to listen to my inner writing guide and learn which was which—to balance my need for a break, knowing I would come back with fresh eyes, with the guilt of walking away from my project.

And this new life still has stress, but it’s a different type of stress that comes from starting a new type of career, building a business around writing, and failing at things so that I can learn and grow. It has taken more time to adjust than I had thought and I still have my days of fear and doubt, just as I did when I was twenty-two, but overall as I sit at the kitchen table every morning with my laptop and my coffee, I’m incredibly grateful.

The Author, a lovely brunette, smiling

After spending twenty years in the corporate world, Danielle is transitioning into a more creative life, which alternately exhilarates and terrifies her. She spends her days working within the San Diego writing community and is honored to be the president of the San Diego Memoir Writers Association. Danielle received her B.A. in Creative Writing from Vanderbilt University and is currently working on her revisions to her memoir and blogging at her site at daniellebbaldwin.

PHOTO CREDIT: https://pixabay.com and Danielle Baldwin