All the Things

It's apparently burn-out week here at the league. I'm not quite in the state Skyla had hit, but I realized when a multitude of "other things" came in yesterday that I'm damn close.
You see, this maddening, wonderful thing happens after you've published a few books. People want you…for everything. Do these panels at a convention? Sure! Heck, you want to lead the literary track for this other convention? OMG, yes! Donate something to this awesome cause? Of course! Do this, that, and the other thing? Why not?
It is very difficult for someone with my personality type to say no. I want to help people and I feel honored when I'm asked. So I end up saying yes far too much. I say yes until it gets to the point where I'm sitting at my computer, trying to write, and all the other things come to a head and I end up sitting there and crying instead.
And that doesn't even take my writing into account.
This is the first time I've publicly acknowledged why I'm not on social media as much as I used to be. I simply don't have time. I've volunteered myself into a corner I'm desperately trying to claw my way out of. (To make matters worse, since my divorce, I've been big on the standing on my own two feet thing, so I don't ask for help. From anyone. )
I'm using myself as an example not so everyone does the "Poor Seleste" thing. I'm using myself as a cautionary tale, because I can see all those other things pushing me to the point that I also hate the writing. (Without the writing, I wouldn't be in this situation.) I've set myself up in a whirlwind custom designed to promote burn-out.

Don't do that to yourself.

Seriously, learn to say no. And then say it early and often.
"No, I can't have all the neighborhood kids over to my house."
"No, I can't critique your manuscript."
"No, I can't come to that book signing."
"No, I can't do that conference."
"No, as much as I'd love to, I can't do one more charity anything."
"No, I cannot do all the things, no matter how hard I try."

Say yes too, of course, but say it with care. They add up and multiply before you realize it, and then you're buried in yeses and can't see your way out. Figure out your limits and then, for goodness sake, don't push them all the time.

Now, I need to get back to all the things. I'm counting the days until I'm out of this corner and can breathe again--and I thank my lucky stars there was a time limit on most of my yeses.

How Skyla Got Her Groove Back

Remember this post? Remember how utterly miserable I've been for well over a year, writing but hating it, wanting nothing more than to close up shop and sell artisan hummus instead?

Well.

Last month, I finished a really rough draft of a book I'd started last year, and I'm now 53K words into the next book. I should finish it within the next few weeks. And I am enjoying every goddamn second of it, even when I think it's terrible, or incoherent, or reads like a video game on paper. I wrote 400K last year, but this...this is different.

I wake up in the morning...thinking about The Story.

I go through my day itching, using all of my concentration to work on paying gigs...while thinking about The Story.

My gaze trails to the side mid-sentence when I'm talking, brain tuning everything out...because I'm thinking about The Story.

When I finally, finally get to write, I'm practically jumping out of my skin and stay up far past my bedtime, getting in up to 9K some days...playing with The Story.

And I drift off to sleep, playing upcoming scenes in my head. I dream...dream of The Story.

It's obsessive and probably not healthy, and my apartment is a mess, and I've eaten so many nachos I probably smell like jalapenos...but by god it is GLORIOUS.

How did it happen, when I didn't think I'd ever be at this place again? Because, really, last year I thought this was it for me as a writer. I was done. I panicked at the thought of trying to find something else to do with my time, some other career. I was miserable.

If you find yourself in this place, where your words are broken and you're burnt out and unhappy...these are the steps that worked for me.

First, a caveat: I'm talking to the workaholics and career writers in the crowd. If you're a dabbler looking for someone to reassure you Writer's Block Is A Real Thing, you won't find it here. STFU and go sit in the corner, I don't have time for you.

Second: major credit goes to Lilith Saintcrow, for reassuring me I was going through a normal thing and giving me strategies for dealing. Go buy her books.

Now, here are some basic steps, broken writers.


1. Acknowledge This Is A Thing.

If you are churning out thousands of words but you still hate the process of writing; if you've lost that burning need to tell the story; if you'd rather watch Psych reruns and knit than write...you're burned out.

People are going to tell you that you're not broken, that your writing is fine, that it's all in your head. On one hand, yes, it's in your head. So are a lot of things.

It doesn't mean it's not real.

They're trying to be reassuring and mean well, but you don't need to be reassured right now; you need to be validated. So I'm telling you, this is an actual thing. You're not crazy, it's not just in your head. You are going through a real thing, and you can't recover until you acknowledge there's something you need to recover from.


2. Make Other Arrangements.

You're a professional writer? You have deadlines? Make other arrangements. Not always possible, I know, but you want the minimum amount of pressure right now. The self-imposed deadlines? Toss 'em. If you're writing to keep a roof over your head and you absolutely, 100% cannot set things aside, fine. But I'm going to go ahead and say it: if you can, get a part time job stocking shelves for a few months. Which sounds stupid and crazy, I know, but just do it.

And the reason for this is...


3. Stop Writing.

Just stop it.

Generally I tell people to never stop. Write through the suck. Write through the doubt. Write when it's hard and scary. Write through exhaustion.

You can't when you're burned out. Lili put me on a three month regime of exercise, refilling the well, and a limit of fifteen minutes of writing a day.

Of course, just when I was feeling it coming back, I lost my full time job and was thrown into a tailspin of panic and depression. I completely lost my focus--it was several months before I could buckle down and do things that required my brain, like reading and editing, etc. But the benefit there was that it forced even MORE months of rest onto me. Which was ultimately the best thing for me.


4. Let Go.

I tried to get back on the horse in January. And I hated it. Hated hated HATED it.

Then I said, fuck it.

Flipping that switch changed everything. I know it's cliche, but it's true: you have to let go ENTIRELY. Let go of the expectations. Let go of the pressure. Just say fuck this noise, I will write when I'm good and ready. Because the more you try to force it, the more damage you'll do to yourself, and the longer your recover will ultimately take.

Interestingly, also in January I had a particularly bad episode of dysphoric mania that *probably* should've hospitalized me if I wasn't so goddamn stubborn. It resulted in a week of being sedated in bed and, you know, it was probably the next best thing for me. Like a brain reset. Because I let go of absolutely everything, keeping a focus on getting better instead or worrying, and that somehow shuffled everything into place.


5. Be Aware.

I can't say how or when, but it'll click again.

If you have faith in nothing else, have faith in that. Just learn to pay attention and listen, and when you feel that tickling of the Story against your consciousness, listen to it. Follow it. Learn yourself, learn to know when you don't want to write because something's wrong with you versus when you're avoiding because you're a lazy bitch.



6. Take It Easy.

Writing after burnout--after a long absence--feels mentally like you've been in an accident and you're re-learning how to walk.

You can't push it. When I got started again in February, I was very careful--I knew trying for 5K days wasn't healthy. I started small, just 2K and 3K here and there. It was a month before I built up to long days.

It's scary. There's a constant feeling of doubt, of terror that the magic is suddenly going to slip away again. The need to second guess, to go back and edit, is stronger than ever. There's a shakiness, reworking muscles that haven't been in use, struggling to find the balance between stretching and not straining.

You can do more damage to yourself in these early stages. So don't push it. At the end of writing sessions, leave yourself wanting to do more than pushing so hard you're burned out again. If you have a particularly productive day, force a break the day after.


So there are my tips. That's how Skyla got her groove back.

Have you been through long-term burnout? What strategies would you offer others?

Taking time for yourself

So, I know my last post was about NaNoWriMo and how I was excited to get started (well, at least it was about NaNoWriMo, I can't remember if I was excited or not... it's been that kind of month...). At any rate, I never actually started NaNoWriMo. I meant to. I had good intentions. I even vaguely had a plot. But life intervened.

And no, nothing dramatic like last year where my husband inconveniently got cancer and herniated a disc in his back at the same time. No, this was more just normal hectic life. Lots of things to do, work, busy-ness. Husband was travelling, and normally I use that time to write, but I'm also taking an online class through NYU (who doesn't love good old-fashioned tax law?) So I never even got around to signing up for NaNoWriMo.

But I think that's okay. You know, sometimes you gotta take time for yourself. That's why I'm sitting on the couch with my husband, dogs, and am watching Thor. I'd like to pretend that it's research for these Norse mythology posts I've been doing, but that's a load of crap. I just like watching Thor take his shirt off (don't tell my husband!) :)

So, the moral of this post is that it's okay to take some time off every once in a while and admit that you just need to recharge your batteries.

Just don't overcharge your batteries. You don't want to get rusty.

But for now, I'm off to be cozy. Enjoy your weekend, y'all. If you're doing NaNoWriMo, then good luck!

It's Not Butt In Chair, It's Hands On Keyboard

Gothic Goddess, here.

There's been a lot of talk lately about your word count and producing words and so on, and this is understandable. It's a new year, which means new beginnings and new goals and so on, and productivity/changing your habits is usually one on a lot of people's New Year's Resolutions list.

I'm okay with this. BUT!

Here's the thing. Like any new routine or goal, the enthusiasm and drive behind it can fizzle out about a week or so into it. They say it takes about three weeks to make or break a habit (some sources say six, but we'll go with three for argument's sake), so sticking with it (what’s called "discipline" for you free spirit hippy types) can be a challenge. This is where wanting it badly enough comes in, but I've covered that topic before.

What I'm going to talk about today is not desire, but fear.

See, I share our Bad Horse's opinion on the subject of writer's block. There's no such thing as writer's block. (I'm not talking about writer's angst or writer's apathy. These are two different animals I'll discuss here another time.) There's only fear.

And if you're going to be a writer, you have to stop being afraid.

That right there is the real goal. Anyone can produce words. It takes courage (guts, huevos, brass balls, a pair, cojones, a set, a backbone, a spine – you get it) to write, and I've met more than a few people who should really step back and admit to themselves that they're not brave enough to be a writer.

And you know what? That's okay.

It's okay to be afraid. It is. What makes the difference between a writer and someone who writes is what they do with that fear.

Someone who writes cries "writer's block" or whines about how they have no time to write or how they wish they could write or that they "should/want to get back to their writing" (that they haven't touched in months or years).

A writer sits down and puts their hands on the fucking keyboard and lets it happen, and THAT is terrifying. Every damned time.

Just because you accustom yourself to something doesn't mean it's less scary. It just means you're less afraid. Writing, like anything else you want to become proficient at, is scary as hell the first time you do it, but unlike firearms training or driver's education, every time you touch the keyboard, something different happens. There is no "getting used to" writing.

There's only letting yourself be okay with the fear.

Writing is about surrender, every time, and that can be tremendously frightening for control freaks.

But it's also insanely addictive and seductive. You create your own worlds, can control them (sometimes – more often than not they do what they want/control YOU), are familiar to the inhabitants of that world, you know the rules, on and on. It can be intoxicating, and sometimes you never want to leave. (Other times you can't wait to get the hell out, but that's another topic.)

When you put your hands on the keyboard, you're taking a risk of losing yourself, and that's what the majority of people who "want to write" don't understand and never will. They still think they're in control and don't want to give any of it up, when that's exactly what you absolutely must do if you're going to be a writer. (I'm smirking evilly at you,"indie" authors.)

So many of those who "want to write" think that because they blog about their various personal issues and oh-by-the-way-throw-in-something-wordsmithy-here they're a writer.

This is not so.

Being a writer is about more than production. More than being paid to make words. More than "wanting."

Being a writer is about putting your hands on the keyboard and surrendering yourself to whatever may happen. It's about losing control and letting go and not knowing where you're going or what's going to happen to you when you get there (thank you, Starman, I just totally nicked that quote).

Writing is about fear and the courage to face it.

It ain't for wussies. 

P.S. For those writers who are committed to their wordcount/goal and want a nice way to keep track and have a good visual record of their progress, may I recommend this excellent word tracker shown to me by our beloved Bitchstress Dreamkiller, available free from the wonderful Svenja Liv.

Shouldn't You Be Writing?

by Seleste deLaney

I have this author friend. She's seen a bit of success and has picked up an uber-fan. Not quite Annie Wilkes (Misery), but an uber-fan nonetheless. This fan keeps poking at my friend about the next book. At first I shrugged it off because it looked like it had only happened a couple times, but lately it's happening more often. A couple weeks ago, she made the "mistake" of posting about something on her social media that *gasp* wasn't writing. Uber-fan basically told her to get back to work.

Um... excuse me?

First, no one works 24/7. No one. I'm a mom, and even I get a couple hours away from that job every night to sleep. Everyone needs sleep, food, exercise, and a bevy of other things that aren't work. As much as writers joke about how we never stop writing (not entirely a joke, but I'll get to this in a bit), we don't spend all day every day at our computers tapping out stories. It is a job that most of us spend more than the normal 40 hours a week at, but it is a job.

Second, an author's job involves a lot more than just writing. If all we had to do was type out stories, we could (most of us) churn out 6-12 books a year, no problem. Most of them would be crap, but we could. You see, we also have to make time for editing, which can take as much time as writing. We also have to make time for querying/submissions/paperwork/etc--all the businessy parts of dealing with publishers. We also are supposed to be active in promoting our work. That means blogging and book tours and social media. Unless an author is making a solid six-figure plus income, they're probably doing most of that solo, which is more work. And none of this even takes research into account. Authors do the job because we love the job, but there's more to it than just writing the story, and all of it takes time.

Third, (and I am a classic case of this) if all a person does is work, they will burn out. That well of stories in their head? It will dry up because everything will sound like a crappy idea. They won't be able to write because the idea of sitting in front of the keyboard and creating a world out of nothing is exhausting. It's ceased to be a joy and it's become drudgery. At that point, the author that you love? They're not only going to not be working on the next book in the series you're anxiously awaiting; they're not going to be working on anything. Maybe ever, but certainly not for a while. Everyone needs to recharge sometimes, and writing can be incredibly emotionally and mentally taxing.

Lastly, that bit about how writers are always writing? It's both true and false. It's false because of all the things I've mentioned above. It's true because when we listen to music, we often find inspiration. When we see a movie, watch TV, or read someone else's books, we're learning new story-telling paths. When we go on vacations, we're finding new and exotic places to authentically include in our work. When we spend time with our children, pets, family, friends...we're having actual interpersonal connections that we can bring back to our work and make it more alive.

Writers are all readers. We know the frustration of wanting the next book now. As often as not, we wish we could write faster so we could get more stories to our fans, because we appreciate you and your excitement. But we also know the reality that no matter how fast we write, some things are out of our control (release dates included).

We're all on the same side here, believe it or not.

If You Stretch It Far Enough, It Breaks

by: Seleste deLaney

The time from early October until the end of the year is inevitably crazy for me. It starts with Halloween decorating and costume-making. Then there is the birthday party for my son and the visit from the in-laws. Christmas shopping, decorating, card-sending, baking, chocolate-making, crafting, wrapping... Oh, and NaNo.

This was the "before I got published" crazy. (I've been doing NaNoWriMo since 2007.) Over the last few years though, the insanity has ramped up. Now I'm throwing in extra blogging, revisions, edits, deadlines, and the sometimes ridiculous favors people ask of authors.

It's a good thing I like the crazy, right?

The only problem is (whether the outside world sees it or not), I've been going at full-speed for a long time now, since way before the month of editing madness that was August. It's a pace that is, quite frankly, unsustainable. And here I am with looming deadlines and promises of manuscript delivery.

I've driven myself right over the edge of crazy and am plunging into the abyss where I will free fall until I crash at the bottom and shatter into a million pieces.

Pretty image, right?

Even from where I'm sitting, it's hard to have much sympathy though because I did this to myself. I've known since about July that I needed a break, but there was always a project that needed working on. Or a shiny opportunity I couldn't afford to pass up. Or a...

You get the point. The road that led right over that cliff was paved with shinies.

So, here I am, stuck in free-fall and trying to make a parachute out of the picnic blanket I had stashed in the backseat. I'm hoping it slows me down enough that the pieces are all big enough to be found after I crash.

Why am I telling all of you this? Because it could happen to you too.

One of the things about being an author, especially in the digital realm, is steady output is important. One book a year generally won't cut it. That means those shinies are a big deal. When you get your first contract, the thought that comes on the heels of "WOOHOO! I GOT A CONTRACT!" tend to be of the "Oh shit, what do I do now?" variety.

It won't take long before you too are on the road of shinies that will take you right to that cliff. So, I brought you here to offer a bit of advice. You ready?

Take the road. Yep, you read that right. Take it. Look at the shinies. Pick up the ones you can. And keep driving. But that speed limit sign? The one with the number that seems way too low? Ignore it at your own peril. It's going to be really tempting to go faster and pick up as many shiny bits as you can. Problem is when you do that, sometimes they slip out of your fingers as you're scooping them up from the road. So, keep close to the posted speed limit. Get your ass out of the car when you see a shiny worth having. Take your time to examine it closely. Then get back in the car and do it again.

Why? Because if you're going at that speed, not only will you see the cliff coming... you'll be able to stop or turn in time.

And you might end up collecting more shiny opportunities on the way than you would have by speeding past.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have this pretty rock that needs some buffing and a spit-shine.

... Because the ground is getting awfully close.