Battling the B.O.B

Resource: http://archangelink.com/think-like-an-author/

Sign up for the ANWA Time out for Writers Conference:  Check.  Reserve a hotel room:  Check. Convince a poor, unsuspecting writerly friend to join me at said conference: Check. Threaten my family with bodily harm if any of them decides to get sick or die on that weekend: Check. Submit entry for B.O.B.:  Uh...

The entry for the Beginning of Book Contest at the Time out for Writer's Conference is looming.  I have known about this contest for months.  Seriously. Why am I waiting until the last few days to submit them?

You want to know why? Heart-gripping, soul shaking, underwear-wetting fear.  That's why.

The B.O.B is my first official foray into contest submissions, and it scares me.  I read a couple of BOBs I'd been considering for submission to my family last night, and it was horrifying.  I'd never read any of my work out loud to them before. And here I was, reading what I thought was my best stuff, secretly hoping they would love it.

Now I understand why some people will write a book and never truly finish it. Or why there are so many articles about learning to accept rejection letters.  This is a big deal people!

On the upside, I now understand because I've finished my first WIP, and I've graduated to the query letter stage.  Do not get me started on that topic. I'm sure I can get an amen from more than a few of you on that one.

So, to you sisters who are already well-versed in the BOB and other contest submissions, I bow in your general direction.  You rock!  You have nerves of steel. And I wish you all the very best of luck!

My Conclusions on Being a Fiction Writer

by Terri Wagner
I have shared my struggles about writing with a partner...an ongoing struggle. Even Marsha jumped in and helped out, thanks!!!!!! However, I have come to an amazing conclusion...I loathe writing fiction. I adore reading fiction, I am constantly astonished at how a writer can weave a good fiction story and leave you breathless. I have too many authors I love but top of the lists would include fantasy writers Dave Eddings and Terry Brooks, and adventures with a history twist such as Clive Clussler and Dan Brown. I do not just apply this to books, the whole Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings universes are wonderful places to to visit again and again.

However, I am ready to throw in the white flag on writing fiction. I am not that imaginative. Don't misunderstand, I can imagine a lot, but I cannot write imagination. I change my characters too often. I do not have to explain this comment...I have rewritten the opening chapter a dozen times from a dozen different POVs. None of them work. I should know since I read enough to know the good from the bad. I cannot follow my own storyline since I have no idea where I am going with it. I could go on, but you get the picture. This is not negativity. This is called facing reality.

Now hand me a dissertation on any subject, and I can disassemble and reassemble in a way that any layman can pick it up and read it. I have edited a ton of highly technical articles, sat in lectures on space elevators, and wrote about what it all means. But do not ask me to wander into the world of make believe as a writer. I am content to enjoy the intrigue of others. I surrender to fiction. My partner will probably laugh and tell me to write it again. I will say one thing about her criticism, it forces me to stretch my writing ability. But as Dr. Seuss might say, I do not like it, I do not want to do it, I think I shall not do this!

Yoga and Writing and Bungee Jumping

by Kari Diane Pike

7:12 a.m.

Text message:

Me to Deb: Ready for some yoga?

Deb: Have you guys started?

Me: I never found anyone. I'm still game.

Deb: Ok. I just need to dress. Where do you wanna meet?

Me: I'll meet you at your door.

Ten minutes later, I knocked on the door of room 214. Our annual Southwest ANWA writers retreat is in full swing. Our traditional location in the Arizona mountain community of Show Low (so named because of the outcome of a game of High/Low during the days of the Wild West) is under pre-evacuation orders due to a horrendous forest fire. So here we are in Chandler, Arizona, at the comfortable Homewood Suites by Hilton. Not a bad gig, all things considered. There's air conditioning and a pool, so we're good. Who cares if it's 115 degrees outside?

I found a wide space in a hallway just off the stairs that fit our yoga needs perfectly. Deb had never done yoga before so I was able to share my limited knowledge and great enthusiasm. I love yoga. Moving through the poses wakes up my mind and releases stress all over my body. But back to my story.

Imagine two 50 something, just-a-little-fluffy grandmas in yoga pants huffing and puffing through sun salutations and warrior poses. Then right when we moved onto our backs, grabbed our toes and start kicking our legs in laughing baby style, a guy on a cell phone opened the door just behind us.

"What the...? There's a couple of ladies doing yoga in the hallway and..." His voice faded as he entered the stairwell and the door slammed shut behind him.

Deb and I looked at each other, our eyes wide, and burst out laughing. We laughed until tears ran down our cheeks. It could have been worse. We could have been doing downward dog.

The timing for this retreat couldn't be better. There's a reason why moving ranks in the top ten of most stressful life events. The physical exertion and monotony of packing and unpacking boxes had driven me beyond cranky and well into full on crazy. I even dreamed about myself as an old woman, well into my ninety's, shuffling between row upon endless row of dusty stacks of unlabeled boxes.

When I'm in that place,  I have to stop and drop. I pray for strength, and assurance. I ask questions and more questions. And right when I get to that point when I feel the ground giving way and there's nothing left to hang on to - when I really let go - thinking this is it, I'm going to die, the Lord sends me exactly what I need to land on my feet and continue moving forward.

I found an analogy of this while reading Alma 57-58 in the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ. Helaman sends a letter to Moroni and tells him about the dire situation of his army. His little band of 2060 stripling warriors, having been called to do things they had never done before, had fought valiantly - "as if with the strength of God." But they found themselves in critical circumstances, trying to provide food and shelter for their men and controlling the prisoners they had taken in battle. They suffered hunger and thirst and every one of them had sustained multiple injuries in battle. This went on for several months -

...even until [they] were about to perish for the want of food...Therefore [they] did pour out [their] souls in prayer to God, that he would strengthen and deliver [them] out of the hands of [their] enemies...Yea, and it came to pass that the Lord our God did visit us with assurances, that he would deliver us; yea, insomuch that he did speak peace to our souls, and did grant unto us great faith, and did cause us that we should hope for our deliverance in him. (Alma 58:10-11)

And they were delivered. Not one of those 2060 was lost in those battles.

When I let go and "pour out [my] soul in prayer to God" He sends me assurances. He speaks peace to my mind and grants me great faith and hope that I will pass through my challenge successfully. I can take courage and move forward with determination and conquer the challenge I face. I might experience some bumps and bruises along the way, but with a steadfast hope in Christ and His infinite Atonement, I can do all things knowing that no matter what happens, everything will work out, even when it's something as mundane as unpacking and organizing boxes (paper cuts are a real struggle, by the way).

That said, and since this is technically a blog by writers for writers - even though I rarely post anything about writing - I've decided to take a metaphorical bungee jump (inspired by my daughter who recently bungee jumped over the Nile River). I have the chance to pitch my book to an editor during the ANWA Time Out for Writers Conference in September. I've already started climbing the ladder and I'm not going to look down. I'm going to keep praying and working and moving forward. I am going to fly off that ledge with my eyes wide open. Just watch me!

Life is magnificent.

Hugs~

Things That Block Writing

by Marsha Ward @MarshaWard

Lately, it's been very hard for me to write. This state hit about the time June came around, with temperatures shooting through the roof in the first week. Now, of course, massive parts of Arizona are under an excessive heat warning, even in my neck of the woods, so it's even harder to put my mind on business.

I've tried several things to get myself out of the doldrums: changing up my sleep time; napping more frequently, especially when it's so hot; putting several water bottles in the refrigerator to cool them, then actually drinking them; wearing a minimum of clothing; napping in a room that doesn't have the sun beating on it; eating lighter meals; using a spray bottle for frequent drenching; and taking a cool shower whenever I feel like it.

To no avail on the writing-a-book front. It's just too hot to think. I'm not acclimatized to higher temperatures yet.

I've tried to be more accountable for the progress of my writing by signing up for a summer-long writing event, and getting a new critique partner.

Yes, I'm getting work done in other areas: social media, blogging, re-doing a website that needed updating (more to do there), planning publication of other pieces, buying covers, formatting manuscripts for ebooks, and the like.

But Ella Ruth, my main character in the novel, isn't talking to me.

I have finally come to the conclusion that 1) I wrote a scene that Ella Ruth doesn't want in the story, and 2) she is hesitant to move on from the comfortable zone of her pity party.

I know about pity parties. I have massive to minor ones quite often. It's a thing with writers, but fortunately, most of us don't long dwell on the cause. Especially if we have ADD or ADHD. We eventually move on.

Ella Ruth has been in her doldrums since I released Gone for a Soldier two years ago. In her real time, though, it's been less than a year since the close of the American Civil War.

I guess the only thing I can do is keep writing scenes and listen to her. I hope she will approve of the new ones and help me get back on track.