WriteHook

In my other life, as the owner and president of a business-to-business writing and speaking firm, my evil twin François (pictured, looking curiously Italian) runs into the occasional problem that gives me some direction in other areas of my life.

You see, we had a corporate contract assignment that kind of went awry. And please note that "kind of" is evil-twin-French-guy talk for "clusterfuck." I was asked to be part of a project that it turns out I didn't really understand. It was over my head and out of my element, and it cost me dearly. Though I had done another assignment for this particular company ‒ and nailed it ‒ this latest assignment probably cost me the client.

Needless to say, I was a little miffed at François. Though, for the record, I wasn't (and still ain't) mad at the company. But looking at François at his worst, at the moment he realized that the job was over his head and beyond his ken, was painful. We all like to think our inner François can handle anything, but the truth is, you have accept that he can't.

The good news, at least, is that the François Incident has given me a chance to reorganize my own thoughts and learn a couple lessons.

1. Know your limits. François' problem with the corporate gig was that it was technical and specific, and François is a looser thinker. It's always good to go beyond your comfort zone, but there are just some tasks that are not in us. Recognize that if you can't run your own literary magazine or make a living as a medical writer, it's fine. Remember, they draw foul lines for a reason ‒ we all need our boundaries.

2. Know your strengths. I can speak well and I can write. And I can help the overwhelmed make sense of their writing projects. So yeah, maybe a corporate technical project isn't my thing, but writing compelling ad copy is. And maybe writing a novel isn't my thing (and it really isn't). But I can short-story your brains out. And I'll still call you the next day.

3. Learn your lessons. There are a lot of pithy sayings, like "It's not whether you fall, it's whether you get back up." And they're pithy because they're true. Failure is inevitable. But the thing to do is to recognize a failure and see the opportunity in it. From François' blunder, I have a renewed vigor to concentrate on my teaching and workshops. Because that's who I am.

Have you ever had to rebuild in the face of a ridiculous crash-and-burn? Share it with us! Leave a comment below. Nothing helps the world like knowing that someone just like us has gotten through a bunch of crappola.

And as for François? The least I can say to him is merçi.

Écrivez pour le Gorge, Chacun!

As a newspaper writer, you spend much of your time walking up dirty steps to talk to dirty people about dirty things.  ~ JR Moehringer, "Resurrecting the Champ" (LA Times, May 4, 1997).

I recently wrapped up a five-week course in character development that I taught at a community college nearby. Congratulate me, I'm no longer a teaching virgin.

On the first night of class, I told everyone the thing I love most to tell ‒ that I am a former journalist. Former. I love that word so much because journalism will salt you up and eat your soul with a side of home fries and then wipe its greasy fingers all over what's left of your face.

If you let it. And, apparently, there are other jobs that do this to people too. One of my students has one of these jobs. And she is as desperate to put "former" in front of her title as I was, a year or so ago.

What surprised me most about teaching is not that I liked it, but that it would lead me to feel so strongly toward the plight of one writer's journey. Breaking down all other things I could say, the truth is: I'm afraid of losing this girl.

I'm aware of the psychology of redemption and self-projection. I see myself in her. But I see her at the moment of meeting the diverging paths. She is in the no-man's land between what she has and what she wants; the middle ground that lies, to paraphrase the dazzling Rod Serling, "between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge."

I want to save her. And in her way, she wants so badly to be saved. She is intelligent and pensive and passionate and hopeful. She is also afraid. And she feels as if she is stuck.

Writing takes so much of us. But unlike journalism (or my former student's job), it does not by nature take anything from us. Still, writing demands so much of who we are. It demands fidelity and trust and asks us to bear our souls. All for little hope that it will bring us any material gain. Writing asks that we give ourselves to it completely, but offers no guarantees in return.

And yet, we do it. Why? Because we're stupid? Because we're misguided or arrogant or crazy?

Or because we're in love?

I want to rescue the young lady from my class because she is in love. I don't want her to have to put that love aside to handle "real life," in the hopes of coming back to writing "some day." I want her to embrace it now, with everything she's got, and I want her to avoid the agony of realizing, some day, that she should have done it all along.

Still, this is not my life, and I have no plans to inflict myself upon her in any way. I suppose what I want most is to know that someone else has managed to escape those dirty steps and dirty people and dirty things. My soul was splashed across those steps and outlined in chalk for a lot of years. I suppose I just want to know that someone could get off those steps before she leaves too much of herself on them.

Write for the Jugular, folks.

It's like trying to find the right clothes for THIS guyA little over half my adult life ago, I devised the greatest character of my life. Now I dream of nothing more than beating him to death with a shovel.

The problem is, I love this guy. I've just never been able to find the right story to go with him. Normally, that's not a problem for me, but this character is so rich, so good, so complex, that no story I put him in does him justice.

I've said it before ‒ characters are jerks. They're willful, spiteful, stubborn little children who refuse to go quietly. To get them to do what you want takes a sound thrashing, and lots of tormenting them with obstacles, traps, and enemies you'd never in a million years want to encounter for yourself.

And herein lies the rub ‒ I love this character so much, I don't want to hurt him. I've committed the biggest sin a writer can commit ‒ I've become emotionally attached to one of my own creations.

Being a guy, I now want to kick his ass, because he's brought me no end of grief. If he were a female character, I'd want to cheat on her with a hot waitress who looks just like her!

Especially if she looks like this!

 I've written tons of stories since I first came up with the guy (and his too-perfect name), but after every story I write, I read it back and think "Still gotta figure out John's story…"

Writers are weirdoes, of course. We all know that. And it's an occupational hazard to become bonded to our characters and stories. These creatures are our offspring. We nurture them, develop them, hurl challenges at them, and, in the end, save their souls. And it's hard for us to put them out in the world, because letting go takes courage.

And once in a while, we go off the deep end and develop a story or a character that we just can't git r' done with. We can't just pound it out. Can't just throw a character into any old thing.

For all you overprotective writer parents out there, I just want to say, you're not alone. I don't have an answer for you, but you're not alone. All of us have that one story in our heads, or that one character in our brains, that just defies all attempts to put it down. A lot of us overcome it, which I hope to do too.

But I don't know. This character of mine owns my ass. And I'd really like to get it back.

How 'bout you? Got a character or a plot or an idea that's been haunting you forever? Leave the world a comment below, we'd all like to know about it.

Hairless by frustration...When I was 22 years old, I kicked a reel of film so hard I sent it flying off the editing spindle and into a brick wall. I imagine this was June or July, because I know I had been in film school for at least three months when this happened.

My hissy in tact, I stormed into my apartment, where my girlfriend (now wife) asked me for the 4,000th time what was wrong. And I told her "I can't see."

Here I had made it to film school, where my dreams of being the guy everyone else in Generation X wanted to be were supposed to flower like a rose bush. And all I felt was inadequate. Other people in my classes were citing classic movies, spotting obscure director cameos, and throwing around words like "metonymy" and "Nouvelle Vague."

They saw the art between the frames. The Masonic symbolism in Kubrick's compositions. And all I saw was that brick wall in the editing room.

I recently was reminded of this episode by a student in the character development class I'm teaching here in NJ. As I prattled on about redemption as character motivation and the need to demand answers from your characters, I could see her foot just aching to find a reel of film to kick. She was frustrated. She was in a classroom full of people who got it, and she wasn't getting it. At least, so she thought.

She is getting it. She's just not used to it. She didn't realize writing was so much work.

Writing can be frustrating as hell. Especially when it comes to your characters. Characters are assholes. They're willful and defiant. They're stubborn and lazy. If you give them any excuse to sit down and rest, they'll take it. And if you don't exercise your authority over them at all times (all times!) they will unzip their flies and wizz all over you.

Writing is not supposed to be easy. Reading is supposed to be easy. Writing is an MMA bout with a triathlon thrown in. Writing is work. And it requires patience.

The good news? You will see, so long as you just hang on. Keep writing, even if it's crap. Never be afraid of writing crap. Crap is great. When you write crap, you get crap out of your system. Your vision is in there. If you're stuck and frustrated, you've got to get rid of the crap.

So exorcise it. Just keep writing. Keep working. And keep being patient. You're not alone in your frustrations.

Two months after my film reel incident, I suddenly saw in cinematic language. To this day, I don't know why or how. But it happened. And it will happen for you, if you stay with it. You can't absorb what you need to improve by abandoning your goals when the going gets tough.

Write for the jugular, folks. 

I love Tammy Bleck. She is one of those happy oases you sometimes get when macheteing your way through the jungle, only to find a grove of exotic fruits and a river of tequila. I found her wonderful blog, Witty Woman Writing, by accident, through Twitter, I think, and I did something I've only otherwise done with the great Brian Hodge -- I subscribed. 

People say women aren't funny, but Tammy is. Moreover, she's generous, courageous, insightful, and ... did I mention funny? A speaker, writer, and deft observer of life, Tammy would be my new BFF if I lived anywhere near her at all. But I don't, so the least I can do is let her play in my yard this time around.

So you want to be a writer when you grow up?

Me too. Of course after 58 years (dear God I’m old) I’m still working on the growing up part, I’m happy to report that I have reached the writer status.

So, you’ve read the manuals and you’ve taken the writing course. You are beyond convinced that the world needs what you write.

What the world needs is individuality. What we need is courage. People who are willing to take a risk; go out on a limb, discard the manual and write what they feel; those are the writers worth reading.

Say it differently, say it bolder.  And if being you is a bit crazy, all the better. Why should you be the only sane person in the room? The dirty little secret is that all writers are a little bit crazy. Why else would we dedicate so many hours sequestered writing stuff we think people will never read? Unlike the real world; in the writers world crazy is good.

Everyone has a different set of rules for writing. My humble opinion is; rules are for society, not for writers.

Sure, there are the basics; check your spelling, your grammar, tense and have purpose in your subject. Don’t make up facts, double check the ones you have, never plagiarize, don’t use the internet as your only source, and always respect a deadline. 

Writers are a quirky bunch. No two of us are alike. Some write at three in the morning, some need coffee shops to fuel their minds, some need to be cloistered in a locked room in complete silence, and some need motivational music. I’ve known writers that were too shy to even look up when at a book signing and others that performed like circus ringmasters. Rules can’t possibly fit all personalities. And they don’t.

The number one writer’s creed is simple: just write. Easier said than done. Time is a thief; jobs, kids, appointments, life, it all takes precedence. But if you’re really a writer, there is always a little time for writing. Five hundred words here, fifty words there. A thought process that curls onto a written page takes but a breath of a moment.

When I first began writing I would correct and rewrite as I went along. Huge mistake. Now I free write; I delete and correct nothing and I go back and clean things up for my final product. Different strokes for different folks (yes, I really said that). There are rules teaching you to free write and there are rules instructing you to never do it. Forgetaboutit. However you want to express yourself is how you should be writing.

I’ve heard it time and time again, “Write what you know”. I would change that to “Know what you write”. If we only write about the things we know about, it would be a pretty boring life. Venturing, exploring and expanding the written world is what good writers do.

Writers write for one reason; to share their thoughts; tell their story. In the end, it’s all about the written word. And speaking of the written word, less is always more.  Edit your stuff, then edit it again and before you send it out; edit it one last time.

Of course, if you want to be a writer so you can make boatloads of money, sleep late, work from home and do TV interviews, good luck with that. The more likely truth is that you will be living off of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Mac and Cheese for a while. Be patient, cream always rises to the top.

Plain and simple; if you want to be an author, act like one. Submerge yourself in the workshops, readings, and book clubs and writing associations. Walk the talk and stop hiding behind the title.

When someone says to me “I’m a writer”, I smile and say to them “prove it”. Show me what you’ve got. Be brave enough to put it out there. No sense in writing if you don’t have the courage to share. A writer’s life is a lot less ego and lot more bravery. There are few things harder to do than to pour yourself out on paper and submit it for approval or ridicule. Discouragement is a writer’s middle name. Accomplishment is a writer’s claim to fame. Take heart, if it were easy, everyone would be doing it.

And so there you have it, if you can prove your craft, if you can put your name on something you have written that someone else wants to read, you, my friend, are a writer.

And that opens up a whole new door to becoming published. Another topic for another day.

Tammy Bleck is the author of the book Single Past 50 Now What?, a speaker, columnist and life commentator. She is also a blogger extraordinaire at WittyWomanWriting.com.