My site disappeared for a few days. I wrote my very friendly hosts and asked what the problem might be. Seems my server died and went to pc heaven. If I had a backup of the site, they’d be happy to restore it for me.

Um, a what?

So. They somehow found a backup for me from about six months ago, and really that was above and beyond. But one of my graphics lost all her little kilobytes. She is kaput. And I have no backup of that either. Yes, I know. Shocking.

So, for now, I’ve made a placeholder one. But… maybe this place needs a new look anyway. Is it too … feminine, maybe? I liked it at the time, but I’m thinking I want something a little more fun. So… maybe we’ll see a new look. Not a new layout. You have no idea how long it took me to get the layout right. I am working for myself on this one, and I’m cheaper than anyone else I can afford, so we’ll (I and my designer) will just have to make do.

Upside, I found the entries that had disappeared.

I’m editing. Yes, still. And I’m having one of those moments, you know, when you want to smack yourself on the forehead, but instead of saying, “You could’ve had a V8!” you say, “How could you not have known that?!”


Oh, sure, I had backstory. I knew all about my heroine’s childhood, her parents, how she lost her virginity, and how she lost her true love. She’s 30. That’s up to about 20. I had even less for my hero.

See, here’s what got me: the story starts when the action begins. That’s one of those Rules. Notice the capital R? Rules. The Rules that cripple you.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good rule. I get it (now). But what the novice writer in me read was: nothing happens, except what is relevant to the story, until the story starts. Which is just silly.

First of all, who sits around doing nothing for ten years? Nobody I want to read about, that’s who. And really, once you get to know your characters and your story, it’s a lot easier to explore their history. But, take it from me, this is something you should do before you’ve written 400 pages and realize that the first 130 pages are going to need serious work, which means the rest will need serious work weaving in all the new things you’ve discovered.

Second, how do you know what’s relevant if you don’t just sit down with a pen and paper or a laptop or a wall and chalk, if you don’t dig in and find out? I don’t think you can make things up to fit your story. I mean, clearly, you’re writing fiction–you’re making it up. But, if you just comb through, pull this out, that out… and then you’re character says, “See! That’s how I got in this spot. And, you know, later, when that other thing happens? Think how that’s going to just rip me apart.”

Meh. I’m off to dig. And to write twenty times, “I will not blog in the second person.”

I’m editing. I have (once again) hit writer’s block and decided this would be the perfect time to edit… or totally rip apart… my first novel. Except, of course, I still don’t feel like writing. So I’m pushing my way through. And feeling like a petulant two-year-old: “But it’s hard!”

It’s so scary, looking at something like this again, something I spent years working on, something I was never really sure I would finish. And, it’s finished. Except it needs a lot of work.

I’ve learned so much, and I guess that’s good, but it makes it so much easier to see what I did wrong, especially in those scenes that I wrote when I first started. But, with this story, I don’t remember a piece of it I worked on that I didn’t think this is hard. This is scary. And then I would push through it, and I remember being a little in awe at myself, at the process, at writing because it was hard and scary, and I actually did it.

I guess this entry is a little pep talk for me, for whoever reads it. Writing is scary and hard. If it’s not, you’re not doing it right. Or, you’re definitely not doing it well. But, what a rush.

I know, in a logical manner, that writer’s block isn’t a real, insurmountable thing. It’s a lot of possible twists, in your work and in your life, that manifests as, “I don’t want to.” Or sometimes, “I can’t. I really, really think maybe… I can’t!”

But what it comes down to is your imagination, or maybe your muse, telling you, “This isn’t working for me.”

Here’s what I do when uninspiration strikes:

1. Read through it. Read what you’ve already written. Read your notes. Make more notes. It won’t be long before your heroine will say, “You know I’d never do that, right?” Or something to that effect. Sometimes you get scared and you overplot or you try too hard to push the plot where it totally should go, but for the wrong reasons.

2. Change mediums. You’ve been typing on your laptop? Try pen and paper. Go sit at a desk. Sit at your kitchen table. I’ve read some writers devote their work areas to writing. It’s sort of along the same lines as insomniacs only using their bed for sleeping. It’s a great theory, and if that works for you, I envy you. But me? Sometimes I need to change things up. Try brightly colored note cards, white boards, spreadsheets. Anything that gives you a different way of looking at your WIP.

3. Daydream when you’re bored. If you’re a writer, you’re totally already doing this anyway. But, indulge it. Buy a voice recorder or microrecorder and dictate your ideas, the dialogue, whatever pops into your head. Carry a small notebook and pen and write everything down. This almost becomes addictive. And you’re working! You can’t have writer’s block if you spent thirty minutes in traffic and came up with a scene.

4. Freewrite. Sometimes, I still get hung up on that “everything should be perfect” idea. I should know better, but it’s hard, especially when you’re just learning, to forgive yourself bad writing. So give yourself permission to write anything at all about your characters, your story, your plot, your setting, bits of dialogue. And it’s okay if it’s misspelled, it’s okay if it’s bad. It’s just notes.

5. Go read a book. Someone else’s book. Read it, submerge yourself in it, enjoy it. But think about why you’re enjoying it (e.g. “The character’s are so real because they have so many personal details and quirks and life.” or “The dialogue is so snarky!” or even “I wish I lived in that town.”). Maybe you should write what you know, but you should definitely write what you love.

6. Work on something else. Once, during a particularly bad bout (did I mention I struggle with this a lot?), I wrote 40 pages, handwritten, front and back, of a loose synopsis for a completely different story. I don’t know if I’ll ever even use that one, because it’s a lot darker than I usually enjoy. But, I think that was because I needed a bit of an emotional purge. Sort of like rebooting my hard drive.

7. Along the same lines as reading a book, watch a movie or a season of a TV show you’ve heard great things about but haven’t had time to watch. TV may be an idiot box, but I don’t have delusions of grandeur. I take my entertainment in whatever form I can get it. And I don’t have a lot of time for television as a rule. But when I’m waiting for my characters to speak to me again, I squeeze in 22 episodes of, sometimes, great writing. And when I witness great writing, it makes me want to write. “I think I can, I think I can…”

8. Write a letter from your character. Maybe it’s to you. Maybe it’s to another character. Maybe it’s autobiographical. It doesn’t matter, really. Great, important things will come out. You’ll learn about your characters goals, their motivation, and you’ll learn their voice.

9. Write backstory. I know, it’s frustrating to even consider writing 35 pages that will never see the light of day. But, of course, backstory is important. It will see the light of day, hopefully when you masterfully weave it in a piece at a time. Those 35 pages may not see print, but they will make your story better. And when you’re not writing anyway, how can you complain about that?

10. Remember the story is inside of you. It’s your story, and only you can tell it. It’s all there, waiting to be pieced together. Have faith in yourself.

I know, ink diva sounds a pit pretentious. But, I think we should all be divas, at least in our own minds. So monumentally great at whatever we’re passionate about, we reserve the right to, at least, think diva thoughts. So, I’m a diva. So are you. Take a moment to enjoy your fabulousness.

But, you’re now wondering, why ink? Maybe you’re not wondering that, but in my head, you are. And in my head, I get to be the boss. Sometimes. So, why ink? Who writes with pen and paper anymore when backspace is so much less messy than correction fluid?

I do. Not always. Sometimes, there’s nothing I enjoy more than a brightly lit screen and the clatter of keys. But sometimes, there’s something so real and organic about taking pen to paper. The potential of a blank sheet of paper is infinite. The weight of the pen, the pull as it glides across the paper. Being able to flip through twenty handwritten pages and see it and touch it and even smell it. The reality of it. It’s intoxicating.

And, honestly? I really love pens. I have probably a hundred pens. All different in their color, the intensity of the ink, the way my fingers grip them, the way they write. Even my handwriting is different, depending on the pen.

So, yeah, I’m an ink diva. And I am fabulous.