All posts in "The Recovering Creative"

Why “keeping up” can hold us back

The subject of this article, by Julie Bosman, in the New York Times:

Writer’s Cramp: In the E-Reader Era, a Book a Year Is Slacking

made me itchy and anxious—particularly this quote: “Everybody’s doing a little more,” said Mr. [Lee] Child (a British author), who is published by Delacorte Press, part of Random House. “It seems like we’re all running faster to stay in the same place.”

Itchy and anxious, this is, until I remembered that trying to “keep up” (no matter what I’m trying to do) had always make me itchy and nervous. I had momentarily been seduced by the idea that if I do something formulaic, trendy, in, popular, I can “get to” where I “need to be” and “then everything will work out.”

Where I need to be has never, I don’t think, turned out to be where I thought I needed to be.

I am not talking about following a creative path, or doing what a writer (or any creative or professional, for that matter) needs to do to foster their creations and bring their words and work into the world. But it’s when I start listening to “how it is right now” and “what authors need to do” and “everyone needs to do it this way, but not too much this way” that I shut down.

“How it is right now” may be how it is, but why do I have to keep (over and over) regarding that “how it is-ness” as the only thing that is?

I don’t. Nor do you.

 

stuck/unstuck: writing after babies arrive

What was the hardest part about getting back to writing after your kids were born, and did you have to do anything special to get back into the swing? Did something change? Get easier/harder? Why do you suppose this happened to you?

In this installment of stuck/unstuck, I wanted to find out how the professional creatives get back to writing after a baby arrives and then another one arrives a few years later? And I wanted to ask a couple. Craig and Megan Mattes have faced this (together) and share. Craig is a writer and copy supervisor at a large advertising agency. Megan is a former editor at Parents magazine who has written beauty, health and lifestyle pieces for national publications such as Ladies’ Home Journal and Fit Pregnancy. She also writes advertising materials for beauty and pharmaceutical brands.

♥ 

by Craig Mattes

In regard to writing stories or long form, the hardest part of writing with kids is the lack of adult inspiration that you get. I get motivated to write by movies, tv and books that make me think, make me uncomfortable or disturb me. With kids, there is just a lack of that sort of input during the day, other than the 3 paragraphs I read of a book before nodding off at night. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse just doesn’t provide the spark that I need to put something on the paper that’s truly intriguing. Show me something like Irreversible, Martyrs or even Annie Hall and I’m ready to sit at my laptop and pour my heart out—not so much with Dinosaur Train.

It was seeing Louis CK on his latest endeavor, the sitcom Louie, that got me back into taking the challenging aspects of life and attempting to turn them into humorous or interesting writing. I have Mr. CK to thank twice now, first for getting me back into comedy after I decided I had nothing of value to say, and secondly for getting me back into writing when I just couldn’t get in the mindset.

As far as comedy and joke writing goes…kids are a gold mine. I was never able to write material quickly until my two little ones arrived. Now almost every day something comes up that I think is funny and that I want to share with others from the stage. It’s a matter of approaching life with kids honestly and openly that makes comedy about kids work, and for me that’s part of the joy of being a dad. Our family is built on making each other laugh, and sometimes it just so happens that what makes us laugh as a unit works for other folks too.

by Megan Mattes

I had a rough time getting back to writing after my kids were born. I didn’t feel creative or inspired, probably because I was just too tired to think about it. Once I started back (it took me 8 months with my first and 4 months with my second), it felt liberating to use my brain in a non-baby related way. <<So what did you do?>> Besides having wine on hand? Because I’m a firm believer in drinking and writing to stimulate creativity! But seriously, I tend to think of ideas and lines at the most inopportune times—like when I’m driving or running. I started using the microphone feature on my iPhone to record my thoughts so I could come back to them later. I find that if I don’t jot them down right away I won’t remember the exact wording or idea I had in that Aha! moment.

stuck/unstuck: internal conflict and writing: Kristin Thiel

In life, we are destined, it seems, to repeat certain experiences until the meaning or lesson of the experience is conscious. Since the writing life is not separate from life-life, can you share how you’ve moved through a certain block that had always influenced (hampered) your writing process? How did you enter, tolerate, remain with the internal conflict you were dealing with, how did it show up in your writing, and how did it, eventually, resolve? 

Continuing our stuck/unstuck exploration of resolving one’s internal conflicts while continuing to write, Kristin Thiel shares her view. Kristin* is co-owner of Indigo Editing & Publications. When not editing, she talks books for publications such as Rain Taxi, Bookslut, the Oregonian, the Star Tribune (Minnesota), and the Christian Science Monitor, and writes her own fiction. Her latest short story is in Men Undressed: Women Writers on the Male Sexual Experience (Other Voices Books/Dzanc).

by Kristen Thiel 

Only one particular block…? Hmmm… OK, I’ll chisel at this one a little bit: The thing that blocks me is not procrastination or avoidance—it’s something in the same ballpark, but slipperier.

I have always been a writer (dictating stories to my mom before I could form the letters of the alphabet on my own), and I’ve never been ashamed of that. I proudly called myself a writer before and after the Jane Austin Dream House™ of my dreams was replaced by the realization that most writers are poor (or certainly not rich) and some find fame only after death, too many others only infamy at the bottom of a bottle. And I never didn’t write—but I didn’t always write creatively, and that became an unanticipated problem.

It’s useful to try to make connections between dots. Most candidates for a job don’t have exact experience in each and every qualification listed in the posting—but they can make a case that the communication skills they do have will fit the skills needed. Colleges allow similar connections when they accept a transfer student’s credits from another college. We’re taught that this level of linkage is logical and natural, and it most cases it does work—but it didn’t for me for creative writing.

As a teen, I became section and then managing editor of my high school’s paper, and worked for a suburban Chicago paper. I entered college thinking I’d study to be a political journalist, but when a poli-sci class I wanted to take wasn’t available, the replacement history course wooed me into that department. Later, new friends I admired led me to add a second major, anthropology. After graduation, I was an AmeriCorps literacy program coordinator and a grant writer for a theater company.

I did all that not to not write—I did it to write more. I’d write for a daily! No, I’d write minute-by-minute field notes on the world’s cultures! No, I’d write proposal after proposal, answering pleas with reports and briefs and thank-yous! But just as driving a bumper car does not prepare you for driving a semi or for driving a four-wheeler or for driving someone up the wall, so writing one type of words does not make you an author of another type.

For the past decade, I’ve been a freelance editor and book reviewer, which are more writing writing distractions, yes—but they’re also writing aids. They get me reading, and reacting critically to, stories. You know when someone’s telling you a story, and you snap your fingers: Oh yeah! Something like that happened to me, too! I was paying attention to stuff that spurred my stuff. I’d been a reader for almost as long as I’d been a writer, but finally I was reading like a writer (also the name of one of my favorite writing reference books, by Francine Prose). And I was writing like a (creative) writer.

[*Kristin will be on the radio program Susan Rich Talks this coming Monday, April 16, 8 am PT, 11 am ET on All Women’s Radio Network.]

 

stuck/unstuck: Back to writing after baby arrives: Yuvi Zalkow

What was the hardest part about getting back to writing after your kids were born, and did you have to do anything special to get back into the swing? Did something change? Get easier/harder? Why do you suppose this happened to you? 

In this installment of stuck/unstuck, I asked Yuvi Zalkow to answer this question. Yuvi Zalkow’s debut novel, A Brilliant Novel in the Works, will be published by MP Publishing in August of 2012. His writing has appeared in Glimmer Train, Narrative Magazine, Los Angeles Review, Carve Magazine, and others. He is also the creator of the shame-filled video series, “I’m a Failed Writer.” He has over 500 rejection letters in his desk drawer. For more information, check out his website and this book trailer that raises as many questions as it answers (and why you’ll love it as did I).

by Yuvi Zalkow

“Before my kid was born, I was terrified that it would mean the end of my life as a writer. It was already hard to squeeze in writing before the kid and it made no sense to me how it would go with a baby in the picture. But the intensity of having a child (and the amount of time it requires) put me in an entirely new plane of existence. So many unnecessary tasks had to fall away to function in this new life. The great thing, however, is that I became more efficient with my time than ever. This isn’t something I was consciously doing — it just came from necessity or instinct or both. Sure, I had moments where I was too much of a zombie to do anything coherent, but I was also getting more things done in a day than what I ever imagined possible (even if many of those things involved diapers or poop or burping or feeding). After a few weeks of adjusting to this new life, I began to fit writing back into the schedule. The key for me was to change my expectations. I forced myself to write with a less idealized image of what writing is supposed to look like. I didn’t need four hours at a time…. twenty minutes was acceptable. I didn’t need to write every day… 3x a week was fine. Sometimes I wrote on my iPhone while rocking my child to sleep. Sometimes I wrote in the bathroom. And so forth. I also started with smaller projects before I got back into big, scary novel-sized things. I’d say that I’m even more dedicated as a writer now that I’m a parent than I was before having a child. Go figure.

Actually, I did a video about time management and basically my suggestion to others (jokingly) was to have a baby. Because it made me efficient in a new kind of way. And I wanted to analyze that efficiency, both to help parents and non-parents.”

[Visit Yuvi’s site for a library of his brilliant videos that will have you laughing, crying, nodding your head, shaking your head….”]

stuck/unstuck: internal conflict and writing: Steve Almond

In life, we are destined, it seems, to repeat certain experiences until the meaning or lesson of the experience is conscious. Since the writing life is not separate from life-life, can you share how you’ve moved through a certain block that had always influenced (hampered) your writing process? How did you enter, tolerate, remain with the internal conflict you were dealing with, how did it show up in your writing, and how did it, eventually, resolve? 

Continuing our stuck/unstuck series with contributors from the anthology Men Undressed: Women Writers on the Male Sexual Experience, is Steve Almond, whose introductory essay launches and frames the collection in a unique way. He is the author of eight books, including Letters from People Who Hate Me. His newest collection, God Bless America was a finalist for The Story Prize.  He writes The Week in Greed column at The Rumpus.

by Steve Almond

My own sense is that writers are blocked mostly by their own inhibitions about being truthful on the page, and about allowing themselves success. For me, the big block has always been writing a novel. My hunch is that writing a novel has come to represent a form of adult achievement that would somehow deprive me of certain feelings of inadequacy on which I have, perversely, become dependent. The subconscious is a torture device with no apparent off switch. At any rate, I have spent most of my career either attempting and failing to write a novel, or berating myself for avoiding the effort. It is not something I’ve resolved. Nor, I suspect, am I close to resolving it.

But what I have been able to do is find other ways to put work into the world. A decade ago, for instance, I spent two years writing an 800-page novel that was painfully inept. Several readers, including a literary agent, confirmed how awful the book was, and I promptly plunged into a depression. But what I found was that this depression actually had a liberating effect. It stripped me of certain literary vanities and allowed me to pursue a project that was much closer to my heart: a memoir about my obsession with candy. This has been the basic pattern throughout my writing life: I fail at a novel, get bummed out, and find another project to pull me out of the bog.

I guess what I’m saying is that you don’t always work out your deepest internal conflicts. You find ways to manage them. Recently, one of my best friends, a younger guy who’s long looked to me as a mentor, published his first book — a remarkably funny and moving novel. It was tough for me. On my worst days, I felt completely crushed by envy and self-loathing. On my better days, I felt a kind of brotherly admiration and awe. I did my best to support him, which is what he deserved.

I’d do just about anything to write a novel — doesn’t even have to be great. A good novel would be enough. But I won’t let myself, at least not yet. So I’m stuck clinging to the stuff that gets us by when we’re failing: humility, patience, mercy.

When journaling no longer helps the writer create and write

One of my favorite people (and writers), Kim Hooper, has a gorgeous meditation/essay on her site about leaving behind the [kind of] love relationship she had with her journals. Kind of like breaking up, when the “other,” in this case, the journaling process, no longer nurtures the relationship in the same. Still, it can be difficult to let go of something that has given a kind of security, comfort. But how else does one grow?

Kim begins: “Since I was a kid, I’ve thought of “journal” as more of a verb than a noun.” Read the rest of In Memory of My Journals by clicking this link.