blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

Time, lost and found

how to find time for anything you want to do

blue anemone flower by Albenheim via pixabay
Albenheim via pixabay

 

How many people say “I wish I had time to write/paint/play sport” but do nothing about it?

How many people have said to me “I don’t know how you find the time to write as well as work?”

Quite a few over the years, is the answer. I’ve said it myself. What I am really saying is, I refuse to organise my life so that I can do the thing. I’m making excuses.

Time is precious, finite. It cannot be manufactured, but it can definitely be wasted. It is like holding sand in your fist, not noticing it slipping between your fingers but bemoaning the slow reduction in the pile. With a little effort you could find a way to contain it, as far as anyone can.

Everyone has the same 24 hours a day, 168 hours a week, 8760 hours a year. Achieving something worthwhile, something that’s important to you, means making the best use of those hours. Whatever you want to do, whether it’s write a novel or train for a marathon, can only be done in small chunks. John Grisham wrote his hugely successful legal thriller The Firm in the time between hearings, while pulling the long hours of an attorney.

Write 250 words every day, and by the year’s end you’ll have 91,250 words. That’s a novel’s worth.

We underestimate the power of steady effort over time. It really does add up.

Free time + wasted time = enough time

Start with a chart

Yes, really. Start with a simple chart showing seven days with a slot for each hour. You can make one with a spreadsheet or find it on the web. Or you could draw your own.

  1. fill in essentials like sleep, work, travel, caring and domestic commitments
  2. add all the extras you currently do like exercise, entertainment, hobbies
  3. see where the gaps are

It’s important to be honest about what you do with your time. If you think all your evenings are full, consider how much time is spent on watching TV. Maybe even consider tracking actual hours watched for a week.

A 2015 survey showed that 31% of UK adults spent 11-20 hours per week watching TV. A further 39% watched more than 20 hours weekly.
The New York Times ran an article in 2016 showing that Americans watched on average five hours of TV daily, and 90% of that was live TV. We have DVRs and catch up TV, but we don’t necessarily use them.

TV is the thief of time

When I decided to start writing seriously again, I cut out mindless TV viewing and channel surfing. It wasn’t hard. There are a few programmes I like to watch, but I don’t follow soaps or serials (apart from NCIS, and even then, repeats are a real thing.) Working days were long and stressful, but I needed writing time. And reading time. And just plain old decompression time. I programmed in my writing time to suit my schedule. And I set the box to record anything I liked, to watch when I had time rather than when it aired. Let’s face it, Saturday night can be a lean time on the box if you don’t enjoy game shows and reality TV.

Listen to the sinking feeling

Did you sigh when you filled in some commitments? If they are optional, consider dropping them. If they are essential, be critical. Can you spend less time visiting a relative you see regularly? Could you listen to an audiobook on your commute? Do you look forward to catching up with that friend, or does she drain you? Pay attention and act. Limit time and energy drains, even if you can’t eliminate them. Your gut knows, even as your brain rationalises.

Night owl or lark?

All of us have circadian rhythms that mean we peak at certain times of the day. For many, that is first thing in the morning. Waking early might gain you the hour you need. But that might not suit you. You work shifts; you have small children who wake at five anyway and you cannot face waking before that; you’re narcoleptic before noon even with a double espresso. Maybe the later hours are your best time. If you can’t sleep, get up and write. It worked for me. I wrote this poem about insomnia during a sleepless, jet-lagged night.

Our time on earth is finite. In a year’s time we won’t remember the soap opera finale or the latest game show winner. But we can have an achievement to celebrate, which makes our lives meaningful. Be mindful with your most precious commodity.

Take control of your time and commit to the things you really want.

 

 

 

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

Flour, butter, sugar

baking a solution to writer’s block

raisin-cookies_pixel1
pixel1 via pixabay

I’m stuck. Just forty minutes ago the words were flowing, full steam ahead. Now they’ve dried up. I stand, stretch, sit again. Still no words.

It’s time to follow my own advice.  I say that writer’s block can be overcome*, so this is my opportunity to walk the talk. I resist the temptation to fall into a social media vortex. The weather is too hideous for gardening or a walk, so I head to the kitchen.

Flour, butter, sugar. The basic elements for baking are all there, and it is truly amazing how many variations flow from them. Like Lego blocks, they can build many things. I grab my trusty recipe for oat and raisin cookies.

Not enough butter, so I make up the shortfall with avocado oil. It’s supposed to be super healthy, and it ought to be at that price. Must have been feeling well off that day.
The recipe says raisins. I substitute mixed fruit and chopped ginger.
Little changes make these cookies uniquely mine, raisin and oats and something else.

Creaming butter and sugar is repetitive and soothing. I can’t get this wrong and there’s no pressure of time. I sift the dry ingredients together and inhale the aroma of cinnamon, noting the random speckles of brown against white flour.

While I combine ingredients, the story problem simmers in the background. It’s meditative, this focus on a single thing. I lose the plot. I start clean up while the oven preheats. Blobs of dough sit unevenly on assorted baking trays. They’ll all taste great.

The aroma of baking is heavenly and I inhale deeply. The kitchen is quiet and tidy again. After hours of mental effort, turning the focus outwards and creating order restores calm. I feel more in control and the nagging voice of doubt recedes, because the cookies are a small but certain win.

And then the protagonist whispers, “I fell asleep on the train and now I’m waking up in Sheffield with a dead phone and no money. Help.”  Oh yes, I can work with this. The next steps light up in my brain and I return to work energised, with tea and a warm, delicious cookie.

*No more writers block

Simple repetitive tasks are calming, approached in the right mindset.
Step away from the keyboard.
Let your subconscious work on a problem while you occupy your brain elsewhere.
Engage all your senses and pay attention.
Limitations create problems. Solving those problems demands creativity.
Making something tangible is satisfying
in a way mental work is not.
Small wins help enormously on the way to the bigger goal.
Enjoy your cookie.

 

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

Murder victims wanted

clematis-purple_cocparisienne
cocoparisienne via pixabay

Writers love words. Some of us love words too much. We slide from literary gourmet enjoying only the finest expression, into gluttony, stuffing far too many two-dollar words and fanciful metaphors into one or many paragraphs. When we wax too lyrical, we are guilty of writing purple prose.

“Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it—whole-heartedly—and delete it before sending your manuscript to press. Murder your darlings.”
Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch

 

Purple prose is hard to define and somewhat objective, but it is essentially language that is excessively ornate and overdone. It is verbose, redundant and melodramatic. Sometimes it is completely off-topic. Purple prose is the enemy of clear writing.

But what happens to the phrase that sings through my heart and seems to leap off the page, my absolute favourite line even though it doesn’t really fit? I don’t murder it.

I simply transplant it to a more conducive spot, where it can grow and find full expression.

I do the same in my garden, where there are no weeds, just plants out of place.*

I take eye-catching words and make them into poetry.

In poetry, vivid imagery is encouraged and welcomed. Writing a poem exercises different writing muscles. Economy married to expansive imagery squeezes a quart of meaning into a pint pot of syllables and stanzas.

Challenge accepted

John Vorhaus put it well in his post Easy no help you where he talked about challenging yourself to do difficult things, in order to grow as a writer.

I agree wholeheartedly, though like any form of exercise, each to their own. I can’t imagine writing detective stories or historical romance for practice. But prompts and random words and genre-mashing? Bring it on.

I can practise discipline of economy with words in writing poems and songs, and use it in fiction. The aim is sharper, leaner description without getting too flowery.

And I don’t miss my brilliant phrases, because they have another place to bloom.

*Sometimes the right place is the compost heap. Like all creations, the best gardens are edited ruthlessly.

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes

Can you feel the love?

baby-clapping_dhanelle
dhanelle via pixabay

I’m never sure how many claps to give on Medium.

It seems easy enough. We have up to fifty claps. Express how you felt, whether you were moved, signal which stories stand out. But it’s really not so simple.

I decided to engage more with stories and writers on Medium this month, as part of the Ninja Writers daily challenge for May. Writers thrive on attention, like we all do. It’s wonderful to know that somebody read your words, and was moved to respond in some way. The woman in an online group who posted “please read this but I never have time to look at anyone’s posts, sorry” horrified me. How can you expect to get what you don’t give? Especially when you’re in a group that has reciprocity as a stated principle? No, I will not read your stuff.

So I’ve been thinking much more about claps. As is the way of these things, thinking leads to paralysis.

A centipede was happy — quite!
Until a toad in fun
Said, “Pray, which leg comes after which?”
Which threw her mind in such a pitch,
She laid bewildered in the ditch
Considering how to run.

Katherine Craster

It’s much easier with a binary choice, because more options leads to fear of picking the wrong one. So on Twitter I either like it or not. Simple. Why overthink it?

I don’t want to be mean, and I want to be fair. I know writing takes effort, whether the result is good, bad or boring. But does that translate to five, ten, or fifty claps? What if I gave a piece one clap, is that an insult like under-tipping, or am I rewarding effort while saying, this wasn’t for me?

Fifty is too big. I should divide into multiples of five, but I know other people don’t do the same. Are they clapping in small numbers because it’s bad, or are they just not big clappers? I’ve never given fifty claps, and would be shocked to receive the full number. It’s better we don’t know how many claps individuals give, but as with salary secrecy it’s hard to shake the fear of being undervalued.

I’m being more generous this month, but still the etiquette of clapping eludes me. Perhaps I should just pick random numbers and forget about it. And look forward to the day I am moved to give a piece the full fifty.

blog, writing process

Everyday writers, extraordinary ideas – and me

gold nugget
PIX1861 via pixabay

Kelvin Teo curated a list of his favourite quotes from Medium in April 2018. I was honoured (and surprised) to be included, with a quote from my piece Timeworn.

It’s a great feeling to get recognition for something I wrote. I already had positive comments on Timeworn, and inclusion in this list makes me happy. Also there are new writers on his list to discover. Recommendations mean a lot in the crowded online world.

So what does this mean?

I achieved my aim, of connection through words. The highlighted phrase is not my personal favourite from that piece, but it is someone else’s. Once it’s out there, we can’t control how our words are received.

I guess the takeaway lessons are

  • write it and let it go
  • submit to publications to increase potential readership
  • celebrate successes, big and small*
  • keep writing

*I think tea and cake is called for…

blog, writing process

Visual Thesaurus – mapping words beautifully

Screen Shot 2018-03-02 at 12.18.29

Do you love words? Do you sometimes struggle to find the exact word to convey your meaning, whether for poetry or prose? Here’s help, and it’s beautiful.

The Visual Thesaurus is one of my favourite tools. It functions like a mind map for words, linking words, meanings, synonyms and sometimes antonyms. The interface is elegant and clean, and it blossoms on the screen like a flower.

Like fire, but not

For example, take ‘fire’. Typing this into the search bar brings up the animated map above. It shows different synonyms for fire, colour coded by verb, adjective and noun. When you hover over each node, a definition appears with example sentences containing that word. If you click on any word, a second map appears, and you can navigate back and forth until you find the precise word you need.

At the centre above you can see the word ‘hire’ which is the opposite of one sense of fire. This is useful when you can’t quite remember the word you need. The brain works in strange ways, and Visual Thesaurus allows us to approach the needed word in reverse.

Another word for burn?

Screen Shot 2018-03-02 at 12.19.37

Clicking on ‘burn’ brings up this map, which is also fully interactive. You could follow any word, generating maps which vary in the number of nodes, but always give new ideas.

You can choose to hear the central word spoken in US or UK English. It is possible to print your result for offline use. The site has many other links and word games, enough to keep logophiles happily scrolling for hours.

The cost is very reasonable too: $2.95 monthly or $19.95 annually. You can try it free for fourteen days.

I love the infuriating, sprawling, mongrel language that is English. I love its willingness to assimilate words from other languages, giving so many shades of meaning that it is usually possible to find that elusive nuance that I’m seeking. That breadth can outsmart a tired brain which knows that fire is sorta, kinda right but not quite.

But what about other languages?

Fear not, VT has you covered. Dutch, French, German, Italian and Spanish are also included. You can choose to search one or more languages. Here is the map for ‘fire’ showing UK English plus French. Every word is fully searchable.

Screen Shot 2018-03-02 at 13.34.52

How cool is that?

This tool allows much greater variety in description. It’s satisfying to write about fire without using the word. This tool gives you the alternatives you need, in a comprehensive, informative, visually appealing format. You’re sure to expand your vocabulary if you spend some time with this thesaurus, whether native English speaker or not.

And it’s fun to use! We all need more fun in our lives.

Give Visual Thesaurus a try now, and tell me what you think.

 

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, short story, writing process

Haven

a 100 word drabble on ‘the comfort of strangers’

cottage-seaside_Free-Photos
Free-Photos via pixabay (edited)

A fierce storm rolled in as I scattered John’s ashes. No chance of a ferry back to the mainland. I sat in the empty terminal building, truly alone.

A kindly old woman approached me. “Might I offer ye a bed for the night?”
I followed her home, hiding my grateful tears. Sleep came easier than I expected.

The morning dawned clear as she waved goodbye. But when I described her to the Ferrymaster, he looked baffled.

“You’re mistaken surely. Morag died twenty years ago, and Cameron’s Cottage has been empty since.”

My blood ran cold. My name is Margaret Cameron.

Commentary

This piece was written in collaboration with Gordon Adams during a meeting of Northants Writers’ Ink. This writing group meets regularly and collaborative writing is always an enjoyable event. This time we were tasked to come up with a drabble of exactly one hundred words, on the comfort of strangers.

We considered a number of scenarios around chance and fleeting encounters. This story would take place in a transient environment where people come and go; waiting rooms, airports, bus stations, vending machines. Frequently these are also places where lives change in an instant, surrounded by a rushing humanity that seems not to care, taken up with its own drama. Yet, flashes of kindness do appear, sometimes when they are sorely needed.

Packing a story into such a small space is a challenge. Once we fleshed out the action, we began writing, and then cutting to shape. Like poetry, every single word must earn its place and preferably do double duty.

Writing is usually a solitary pursuit. It was a real pleasure to bounce ideas off someone who got my drift and contributed to the process too.

We had a time limit of about forty minutes, and the ticking clock also forced us to get on with it. Like so much in life, done is better than perfect! I prefer to write poetry, but this short form has a lot to recommend it.

 

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes

NaNot today

impala_MonikaP
MonikaP via pixabay

In my writing groups, it’s all about NaNo; daily word counts and writing yourself into a corner and plot holes you could drive a bus through. Maybe that’s the answer to the plot problem. Have the protagonist drive a bus through – never mind…

Things I’m doing instead of NaNoWriMo

  1. Wondering if I should have done NaNo, then reaffirming my decision to pass.
  2. Lunch with friends, bonding with one over the recent loss of her mother.
  3. Sitting at my desk, watching a pheasant walk across the lawn.
  4. Wondering why the pheasant is in my garden.
  5. Chatting with the delivery guy and comparing weekend plans (me: not much.)
  6. Writing a fragment of a poem.
  7. Making a new iTunes playlist, even though I find it hard to write to music with voices.
  8. Pouring away my third half-drunk cup of tea.
  9. Making fresh tea and deciding I do deserve a biscuit. (see point 6)
  10. Gathering the last few chillies from the garden before the frost gets them.
  11. Downloading another book to my Kindle. If not writing, should be reading, right?
  12. Looking at the TBR pile of actual books and sighing.
  13. Wondering again about NaNo.
  14. Concluding that I just don’t have time.
  15. More tea.
  16. Staring.

Where did the day go? Time to make dinner…

blog, writing process

Taking it on the chin

6 steps to deal with constructive criticism

boxing girl_xusenru
xusenru via pixabay

It’s never easy to accept criticism gracefully. After you’ve poured sweat and tears into a creation, getting negative comments can be at best bruising and at worst devastating. But, like taking knocks from a sparring partner, good constructive criticism can spur you on to be better.

Constructive vs. destructive

Constructive critique is aimed at the work.
Destructive critique is aimed at the creator.

If the comments are based solely on what the commenter liked or didn’t like about the piece, without any objective elements, beware. You’ll find nothing useful there. Family and friends often say they love your work (if they say anything at all). Or they might say they hate it. Neither is helpful, though they can still elicit an emotional response.

Unrelieved negativity, especially if spiced with personal vitriol, says more about the commenter than their target.

Put up your guard

Whether or not you sought it out, critique can help. But assess it first as above. Critique does not consist of insults and slurs. Don’t stoop to that level. Walk away from trolls and don’t engage in a flame war that will hurt your brand and your soul.

Defence not attack

Don’t hit back immediately. You’re here to learn something, so first listen to the comments. Take extra time to process the message if you need it.

Probing for weaknesses

A sparring partner exposes your weaker areas without attacking them. The idea is to improve and strengthen those areas. Nobody’s perfect and if you think you are above criticism, here’s one: that idea needs to change if you want to improve. Critique of your work does not lessen your worth as a person.  You are not your creation, though part of you may be in it. Breathe and listen.

Engage in rational discussion

You wouldn’t spar when angry; it could turn into an ugly fight. It might take time for the emotional hit to lessen. Take that time and come back to it cold.

  • Look for the kernel of truth, no matter how small or hard to accept.
  • Consider the alternatives presented.
  • If you maintain your present position, be prepared to justify it.
  • You don’t have to accept all parts of the critique. You, the creator, are in charge.
  • Be open to trying another way, even if you reject it in the end.
  • Thank your critique partner for their time and attention.

Round two

Having considered the critique and decided what lessons you have drawn from it, put them into action. Good critique is focussed and objective, with examples, and offers specific remedies.

Poor critique says “I didn’t like that piece but I can’t explain why. You’re useless.”
Good critique says “I found that piece hard to read because the sentences and paragraphs were very long. You could try having just one idea in each sentence and two or three sentences per paragraph. That will give more white space on the page, which is easier to read on a screen.”

Now you have something to work with. You might cut down your sentences and play with them until you see that it does look better. Or you might find that short sentences don’t suit your writing style. Either way, you know more than before. You can make informed choices in future.

The student becomes the teacher

Everyone’s a critic and dishing out negative reviews is easy. Giving out useful critique though: that’s hard. I invite you to try it, and learn the other side of the challenge. A writers’ group IRL or online will give opportunities to try it out. Being respectful is the first and golden rule. Producing insightful analysis and actionable suggestions, like all good teaching, is harder than it looks.

Sharpening your own critical faculties makes it easier to read and watch like a writer. Deconstructing the magic trick helps you understand how to do it yourself.

Your writing relationships and your own work can only benefit when you learn how to give and take criticism like a pro.

blog, writing process

Writing a query that hooks agents

fisherman_pexels
pexels via pixabay

 

I’ve been following Kristen Lamb ‘s blog for a while now, and she always has something interesting to say about writing and publishing. She is not afraid to say that writers should be paid, for example, and then to write about the ensuing storm of comments. That is not a discussion for today, but if you want to read more, it’s here.

Today I want to talk about query writing, and how to hook a literary agent. Of course I don’t pretend this is the last word on queries, there are resources everywhere. This is what I gleaned from various sources and from Pitch Perfect, one of Kristen’s webinars I attended recently under the WANA banner. She runs regular courses aimed at getting writers skilled, published and noticed.

How to find an agent to query

Literary agents represent specific genres according to their personal taste. They take on a book they believe in, and sell that book to a traditional publisher to offer in bookshops and stores. They also sell rights to film, TV, translations and so on.

You want someone who likes the kind of thing you write. Do your research so you won’t end up sending gory horror to someone who likes cookbooks and cosy mysteries, or indeed vice versa. You and your agent will conduct a business relationship aimed at selling books and making money. It pays to find the person who will be the best fit for you and your story.

  • Acknowledgements sometimes mention the agent by name. Check in books that are similar to yours – in other words, comparative titles.
  • Attending conferences and festivals can yield contacts.
  • Twitter can be very useful for making connections with agents. Also try looking through hashtags such as #mswl (manuscript wish list) which details stories agents are looking for right now, or genre based such as #scifi or #romance. Not all agents are very active on twitter, but it offers a chance to interact and importantly, to see how people behave online.
  • Google can be your friend here. Searching manuscript wish list + genre + agents will yield more options to look at.
  • Writers’ & Artists’ Yearbook (UK) and Writers’ Market (USA) are very useful resources for everything to do with writing, including searchable databases and physical directories which are updated annually.

Which agents to query

Your agent will be getting 15% of your earnings, typically, so you want to be sure they are adding value. Check their websites to see what they have sold recently, who their other clients are, and so on. Remember that most of their energy will be spent on servicing existing clients. That said, everyone wants the next bestselling author. The new agent looking to build their list might have more time for you than JK Rowling’s agent.

Draw up a long list, and send queries out in batches of 10-12. They need to go in groups, it can take some time to get a reply so sending them singly takes far too long. If two (or more!) agents want to read more of your work after seeing the sample pages, you can always grant one exclusive reading for say, two weeks. Then they need to decide or you can move on to the next prospect.

What to write in your query

First read the submission guidelines. Let’s say that again.

First read the submission guidelines. Then follow them exactly.

Every agent has a slightly different preference. You look this up on their website, and you do not deviate. This is no time to show your creativity, you need to show that you can follow instructions. The agent or assistant has hundreds of these emails to read. They’re looking for a reason to say no and make the job easier. Tough, eh? But that’s how it is. Not dissimilar to making a job application, you need to demonstrate a professional approach. Reading and understanding instructions is a basic skill.

Everything is pasted into the email. Nobody will open an attachment. That’s the quickest way to viruses, the modern-day equivalent of the plague.

question-mark_qimono
qimono via pixabay

The query itself

The query is brief, no more than one page. Write in Word or your preferred program, and trim until it fits. Four paragraphs should cover it.

  1. Greet the agent by name.
    If unsure of gender, avoid titles and use the whole name eg Dear Sam Smith. This is a formal letter to a stranger, so unless you know them well, no first name terms. State your connection if applicable, eg met them at a conference, referral from a mutual contact, conversed on Twitter. Otherwise state how you found them eg from manuscript wish list, represented similar books, or anything else.
  2. Write about the book.
    “TITLE is a (genre) novel complete at (word count).”
    If you have a comparative title, mention that here, “in the style of (title)”. Don’t be overambitious and mention a mega-selling book. Just a current best-seller will do.
    Summarise the story, beginning with your log line. This is intended to whet their appetite to read more, it should sound like back cover blurb. It is not a full synopsis, that comes later.
  3. Author biography goes here.
    Keep this simple and on topic. Any writing credentials such as an MFA, and any publishing credits or competition wins belong in this section. Personal details such as age, job, how long you’ve been writing, are irrelevant until you meet your agent. The exception is where your thriller is set on an oil rig and you worked in the business for fifteen years, for example. That’s relevant.

    No credentials? Just state you’re a writer living in X, you write Y genre, and you’re currently working on Z. Don’t apologise for it. Absolutely every writer started with nothing to their name.

  4. Thank you for your time.
    Agents read constantly. Between meetings, while commuting, in the evenings. They have lives just like us, and they love good books, and they don’t get a penny until you do. A thank you is basic good manners, and rude people are remembered for the wrong reasons. Don’t be that person.

Below this, you paste the sample pages or chapters as per the submission guidelines (check them again). And below that, a one page synopsis. This is the one time Kristen suggests going off-menu.

I’ll cover the theory and practice of the log line and synopsis next time.