Are You Out There?

The other night, as Alicia Keys led Stephen Colbert through a brief meditation exercise on The Late Show, she told him to focus on something he wished for. "I want my studio audience back," he said and laughed. But you could tell he meant it.

How strange it must be to record the show in his own home, after years of doing shows with a live audience. I notice it too as I watch with my husband -- the empty silence after each punchline where the laughter should be. Quarantined in our living room, it's up to us to laugh. Or not.

Colbert's longing for an audience response? I totally get it. It's a familiar feeling for an aspiring writer. For any writer, really. We throw words onto a blank page, post them on a blog or publish them as articles or books, and HOPE they find a reader. Hope someone reads our words and feels better for having read them, or at least feels something. Anything.

When I decided to start blogging again, I told myself it was just for me. An outlet for the thoughts that parade through my head in every waking moment, occupying my writer's brain. Those thoughts that, if left unexpressed, set up camp and clog my creative channels. I told myself it didn't matter if anybody read or commented.

I lied. It does matter.

We all want -- need -- that connection to our readers. Even those of us who prefer to create in the quiet of a writing room or artist's studio. We want our art to resonate with someone. Anyone.

See me, writers and artists say in the subtext of every creation. This may not be my story, but it does reflect, on some deeper level, a part of who I am. Something I have felt, something you may have felt too. A piece of my soul reaching out to yours.

We count pageviews and look for comments. And we feel sad -- empty -- when our words seem to fall into a void. When our voice goes unheard. Unnoticed.

Still, writing is an act of faith. So we continue. We put words on the page and send them out into the world in search of an audience. In search of even one reader who will pause and read. In search of you.

Hearing Voices: Wisdom from a Weekend in the Company of Storytellers

I have been hearing voices.

Since coming home from the SCBWI MD/DE/WV regional conference March 28-29, I hear the voices of the illustrators, agents, editors, and authors I met there whispering in my ear each time I sit down to write and revise. It feels like I have a whole support team standing behind me as I write, which is probably the next best thing to having packed them in my suitcase and brought them home.

What are they saying? Read on for some words of wisdom that have been echoing in my brain.

From Illustrator and (visual) Storyteller E.B. Lewis's touching, entertaining, and inspiring keynote address and his session on Writing with Pictures:
1) "Leap."
     Why? Because the leapers make it.
     The longer version of the story is one familiar to all kinds of artists. A writer (illustrator, painter, etc.) stands at the edge of a cliff, looking across a seemingly bottomless chasm to a group of published authors and asks the question we all ask: "How did you get there?" The answer is simple: "I jumped."
     As important as it is to take the leap of faith, E.B. Lewis cautioned, success is also about timing -- about the universe recognizing that this is the time your work is ready to be seen -- and preparation. Which leads us to #2.

2) "They [the greats] won't let you on the stage until you've done the work."
     Success doesn't just happen. Put in the hours and the effort to learn and practice your craft. And don't be afraid to make mistakes. Which brings us to #3.

3) "Creativity is allowing oneself to make mistakes and art is knowing which ones to keep."
     Making mistakes is about being willing to fail. If you're not willing to fail, E.B. Lewis warned, you might not make it to the other side of the chasm. The best way to lose your fear of failure is to fall in love with the process. To love the journey rather than always racing to get to the finish line.
     How? See #4.

4) "Put yourself in a place of most potential, and by that I mean multiple right answers."
     The work of the storyteller -- writers and illustrators alike -- is to solve problems. Not by finding the right answer, but by exploring the unending possibilities, and by having the courage to take on the creative dragons we all face when we sit down to write or draw (some days with better results than others) day after day until a project is complete.
     Where do we find the energy to do that? In #5.

5) "As Mark Twain said, 'The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.'"
     We all have a chip, E.B. Lewis said, pointing to his head. And the chip has to get turned on in order to find out the why. But in order for the chip to be turned on, we must be exposed to the right conditions, people or experiences. Once we know why we were born, why we are here, that passion fuels the journey and keeps us facing our dragons. That passion also steels us in the face of resistance. Which brings us to #6.

6) "We are the documenters of the world. We are the feared ones in society. We cause the multitudes to think."
     They want sheep, not shepherds. We create the shepherds.
     (Personal aside: Good teachers also create shepherds. One more reason why teachers, writers, and artists make good allies. We're all on the same side.)

From freelance editor and author Kate Angelella's talk on Learning to Love Revision:
7) "Revision is where your novel comes from."
     Kate's detailed tips on revision merit a separate post. But I will say here that as she guided us through the hard questions to ask on a first and second pass, I realized that I don't hate the revision process at all. In fact, if anything, I love it too much. But then I heard E.B. Lewis whispering in my ear again, saying it's all part of learning the craft.

8) "Every writer must have a shard of ice in her heart."
     Without that, you'll be too easy on your characters. Be willing to make them struggle. Your readers will thank you.

9) Kate's favorite piece of revising advice from writer Neil Gaiman: "If there are things you aren't satisfied with as a reader, go in and fix them as a writer: that's revision."
     A terrific reminder that one key to revision is putting aside the writer's hat for long enough to see your work through the eyes of a reader. That's where the desk drawer comes in handy. Put the manuscript away until you can see it with fresh eyes before embarking on the next round of revisions.

(Sidebar: Kate also led a Sunday morning intensive workshop on the objective correlative, which sounds much more intimidating than it is. Best part? A series of writing exercises that allowed us to experience this tool of the writer's craft firsthand. Again, worthy of its own post.)

From author and Kid's Post columnist Fred Bowen's session Writing My Way to a Better Life:
10) "Have a way to write that isn't official."
     Why? Because writing unofficially is a great way to generate and capture ideas as well as a dependable way to clear the channels when writer's block rears its ugly head.

And from Agent Carrie Howland of Donadio & Olson: candid advice about traditional and not-so-traditional ways of querying. Carrie reminded us that Twitter contests like Pitch Wars and PitMad are good not only to get your name out there and practice your elevator pitch, but are also a great way to get to know something about agents and editors. A fun way to do your homework before submitting a traditional query. And also a way of finding mentors and a community of your peers. She suggested that we look for comps and cover copy in the things others say to us when we tell them about our books. (Great advice! This happened to me just the other morning in a writing session with an old buddy.)
     And one last comforting tidbit: "The number of followers you have on Twitter really doesn't matter." That said, you can follow her on Twitter.

     May these voices travel with you and echo in your head as you go about your daily work too. Happy creating!

Life's Little Victories

Each year during the season of Lent, I dedicate myself to creating a new habit or way of being. I find this practice much more powerful and potentially life-changing than the alternative of giving up something (like chocolate or ice cream) that I inevitably go back to when the 40 days of deprivation are up. Besides, no woman -- or writer -- should have to live without chocolate or ice cream, Lent or no.

Inspired by author Kate Messner's keynote address on failure (see Feb 2014 entry) in which she reminded an audience of 1,000+ writers and illustrators (and all around awesome human beings who share the unfortunate tendency of dwelling on their flaws and imperfections) of the importance of pausing to celebrate the little victories in our work and our lives, I made a promise to do just that: celebrate life's little victories at least once every single day.

Now, instead of getting to the end of a day and dwelling on all the things I didn't get done or that didn't go as planned or that went decidedly (or even the slightest bit) badly, I take a moment before bedtime to reflect on what little victory from my day I can celebrate and share it with my Facebook family.

Already, this practice has had a happy side effect. I look for the little victories (consciously) during the day and notice them when they happen. For example, as I write this, I am celebrating that the high, gusty winds of the last 24 hours did not knock out our power or bring a tree down on our house. Admittedly, that one is entirely up to Mother Nature and the power company and other forces beyond my control, but I'm pretty sure Mother Nature doesn't mind a little gratitude every so often when we stop complaining about the winter weather or gloomy skies or unending precipitation (snow, rain, or ice) for long enough to pay her a compliment.

There is plenty of bad, depressing, and otherwise yucky stuff going on in the world, and the media is more than happy to report on it (repeatedly), broadcast pictures (whether or not we care to see them), and generally raise our collective anxiety level to ridiculous heights (without our permission).

So in the spirit of countering the yuck, I encourage you to develop a habit of celebrating your little victories and of sharing them with family, friends, the Twitterverse, or the dog. And we will happily celebrate right along with you.