Writer Unboxed

You can accomplish great things if you allow yourself to do so.

Shocked you, didn’t I? I did something different. I got right to the point. Need a minute to recover? That’s fine. I’ll be here.

Journalists are taught to use the “inverted pyramid” formula for writing stories. You lead with the most important point, then follow with information that fleshes it out.

If you mapped out the way I write for this blog, your diagram would look a lot like a Jenga game in that critical moment before the loser yanks out the block that brings the whole tower down. There is structure, but it’s very unstable. No comments from the peanut gallery, thank you so much.

Notice how quickly I dissolve into chaos again? Ah, what the heck. Order is illusion anyway.

Things are a little more settled this month, following the (barely) controlled fission that was the Agents and Editors Conference. I can relax, put on some downtempo, kick back …

Okay. I can’t make that lie work for more than two seconds. I hear Wayne Campbell in my head: “Yeah! Right! As if!” This is immediately followed by Malcolm Reynolds hissing, “Now get to work!”

If you don’t know who Malcolm Reynolds is, run – don’t walk – to your nearest rental outlet and find Firefly – yes, it’s a series, but it only ran for one season – and its companion movie, Serenity. You will find there a veritable cornucopia of wonderful characterization, pithy dialogue, and unconventional humor. Joss Whedon is one of the few writers in Hollywood who actually deserves an army of fanboys (and girls).

(Kath here: we analyzed Serenity in one of our film discussions.)

Now that I have wasted half a page on name-dropping, I return to the point, which is this: since returning from the conference, I am motivated. Inspired. Writing things I have never written before. Writing in ways I have never written before.

Inspiration literally means “breathing in.” I have been inhaling writing ideas for a solid month. It’s liberating, confidence-inspiring.

You may recall that I submitted the full manuscript for my novel, Watershed, to Kimberly Cameron at Reece-Halsey. I haven’t heard back from her yet. That’s okay. I’m kinda busy anyway.

The week after I got back I started the first draft of a new novel. It’s been percolating for a long time. The early pages are simply writing themselves; the stuff is coming from somewhere, but where? No idea.

I don’t ask questions. I just write. Mine is not to know how or why. I flow. When I allow it to happen, it happens.

About a week and a half ago I stepped out of the shower, grabbed my towel and got an idea for a nonfiction book project. It’s not my first, but it’s the first on this kind of scale – it’s grand, audacious and challenging (if I do say so myself).

Alive, full grown in my head in less than an eyeblink.

You could argue that I’ve spent the past fourteen months laying mental groundwork for that book. I’ve argued the same point myself. I love Pasteur’s quote: “Chance favors the prepared mind.”

The groundwork theory more supports than disproves me anyway. A big part of my groundwork has to do with teaching myself to flow. To intuit.

To allow.

When the nonfiction book idea came, I didn’t say, “That’s stupid. I don’t write nonfiction. I’m not interested in that kind of writing. I don’t like it. I can’t do it.”

Instead, I immediately sat down at the computer and began sending emails, making notes and lists. I started researching. I didn’t question. I didn’t think about the enormity of the task at hand. The research, the cold calls, the contacts I didn’t have.

I thought, “Wow, what a great idea,” and I started working on it.

Last week, I suddenly discovered a huge commercial and technical writing market. This after four months of sitting right in the middle of it.

Now, six days later, I’m learning about assignments from places I never expected to, for projects I never expected to be interested in. Some of it is completely new, and therefore challenging.

Which is a good thing.

If you’re a writer and you’re broke (I know, it boggles the mind), you’re probably getting in your own way. There is a lot of money out there. Try looking in different places.

I had no idea how much I was getting in my own way until I stopped doing it. As soon as I stopped, I saw it. The narrow ideas. The self-limiting thinking.

When people ask me what I do for a living, I now say, “I’m a freelance writer.” It feels right. Perfect, really. I always felt a little weird about saying “I’m a creativity coach” or “I teach writing.” My priorities were backwards.

I teach writing because I know writing. I love it. It’s my home. Where my home was a mud hut, it’s now a palatial estate. I stripped away all those limits.

I’m a writer. I write. That’s it. I write short fiction, novels, screenplays, poetry, articles, features, web copy, promotional letters, instructional manuals, greeting cards, and those little blurbs that you find at the bottom of corporate memos.

If it has to do with words, I can do it. I allow myself to know and accept that I can do it. Then I get out of the way and see what happens.

And what happens?

That’ll be next month’s post. For now, I have to go. I’ve got jobs to bid for.

Image by =P0RG.

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