Not Your Normal Thanksgiving Blog

by

Sandy Tritt

When Thanksgiving rolls around, we’re reminded to be grateful for all the joys in our lives. We list the things we’re grateful for, such as family, friends, health, career, home, and so forth. But then I got to thinking about the things I usually leave off my list—things that have happened over the years that have been painful. It’s hard to be grateful for a heart broken by young love. It’s hard to be grateful for losing a friend over a misunderstanding. It’s hard to be grateful for the death of a loved one, especially when that loved one is still young and vibrant. It’s hard to be grateful for seeing your child suffer. It’s hard to be grateful for tough times that force sacrifice and create fear.

And yet, it is usually the unpleasant items on our lists that forge us into the human beings we are and that make us better people—and better writers. It’s hard to understand the depth of love, anger, fear, shame, frustration, embarrassment, and desperation unless we’ve experienced it. It’s hard to create characters who experience strong emotions and go through difficult times unless we’ve been there ourselves. It’s hard to have empathy for others—both human and imaginary—unless we’ve felt the burn of shame, the ache of loss, the frustration of a bad break.

My father once stated that he was happy he’d been able to serve in World War II. Expecting a patriotic lecture, I asked him why. He said he’d never been out of our little Podunk town in West Virginia—never traveled, never seen any of the world. Being assigned to the Army Air Division (which later became the Air Force), he traveled to Florida and Indiana before being sent to Europe, where he saw much of France, Great Britain, Belgium, Germany and the Philippines. He met many interesting people and witnessed history in the making. Even though he suffered horrific things that he was never able to speak about, and even though he lost his hearing from a too-close blast that should have killed him, he was grateful for the experience that allowed him to grow as a person.

So, this Thanksgiving, I am grateful for the tough times I’ve been through. No, I’m not courting more calamity and I don’t want to relive unpleasant experiences. There are many I’d definitely rather undo than still live with the consequences. Yet, these are the experiences that have formed me into the person I’ve become and that have set me free to breathe life and truth into my characters. 

I challenge writers this Thanksgiving season to make your own list of misadventures, heartbreaks, and calamities. What did you learn from each experience? How can they help you better understand your characters? How can you use what you’ve learned to shape your characters?

Be grateful for each day, whether good or bad.

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's all about the Mindset

by

Charlotte Firbank-King



I watched a video about mindset by Dr. Carol Dweck, and it occurred to me that many writers, seasoned or new, have a mindset that holds them back from their full potential. This is also true concerning a lot of things we do. Think along the lines of the story “The Little Engine That Could.” The engine chugs up a hill saying, “I think I can, I think I can.” Then as it nears the summit, its chant becomes, “I know I can! I know I can!” That’s a positive mindset.

According Dr. Dweck, a high school in Chicago had a strange but effective grading system. If students didn’t pass a test, they got the grade “Not yet.” This meant they could achieve their goal; they just weren’t there yet.

She gave a test with problems slightly too difficult for the students. Some of the students flourished in the “not yet,” but some were stuck in the “now.”

Some loved the challenge and, according to Dr. Dweck, they had a “growth” mindset. The “not yet” mindset gave them a path to the future—they understood they were on a learning curve and that their capabilities could be developed.

Other students thought it was awful and their intelligence was being judged because they failed. Dr. Dweck said they came from a fixed mindset, a “now” mindset. Instead of luxuriating in the power of “not yet,” they were gripped in the tyranny of “now.”

So many times writers battle with the various skills needed to make their creative writing truly sing. As an editor, we see the struggles writers encounter with “show, don’t tell,” controlling viewpoint, writing effective dialogue, and all the other aspects of mastering the skill of creative writing—frankly, the list is exhaustive.

Often, when faced with this seemingly endless list, new writers become discouraged, trapped in the “now” mindset. But if they would only change their mindset to “not yet,” they will succeed.

See every word, sentence, phrase, paragraph, and chapter as a challenge and never run from difficulty. Run to it, embrace it. Luxuriate in the power of “not yet” and push free from one’s comfort zone, free from the tyranny of “now” and failure.

The biggest thing in your favor is your passion to write. Even when your head is spinning and your eyes burning as you try to grasp the different rules and skills of creative writing, don’t forget your passion and don’t take your eye off “not yet” for a second.

Even when you grasp all the rules and skills to write well, don’t stop there. Keep your eye on the “not yet” mindset and strive to be better. Otherwise, it’s too easy to fall into another trap when success is achieved—complacency.

A twelfth century cleric in the court of Phillippe of Alsace, the Count of Flanders, coined the phrase in French: Rome ne s’est pas faite en un jour. Rome wasn’t built in a day. They never gave up their quest to rule the known world. Of course, after several centuries, they developed an attitude of, “We’re unbeatable, so we can rest on our laurels.” This is complacency. This is dangerous.

The definition of “resting on one’s laurels” is to be satisfied with distinction won by past achievements and cease to strive for further achievements. So, even if you’ve published a successful book, don’t think you’ve got this writing thing waxed. Never rest on your laurels—never decide a sentence, phrase, or even the whole manuscript is good enough. Always strive for that perfect set of words that will make a sentence or phrase pop until the story is packed with wonderfully crafted words.

Never stop the “not yet” mindset.

The Imitation Game

by

Eric Fritzius

 

 

As writers, finding inspiration to write can be a problem.  Perhaps we have a piece we’ve been working on for some time and it’s hit a wall.  We find ourselves at a loss for how to climb over that wall.  The very act of sitting down and staring at the paper (or screen, as these things go) can feel like the last thing we would ever want to do—no matter how many writers in the past have advised us to do precisely that.  My usual tactic to punch through such “blocks” is to turn to other creative projects, to work on something else for a while and get the creative juices flowing.  This can help with the wall-breaching process for the first project.  And when it doesn’t, at least I’ve been productive on another project.  If you don’t have another project ready at hand (or even if you do) you might consider another technique: inspiration by imitation. 

This is the point where many of you will be put off if not horrified by the idea of imitating the work of another writer as inspiration for your own work; writers often bristle at the notion that they are anything less than completely original in all output.  This is, of course, the fecal byproduct of a horse.  We learn through imitation in all aspects of life, but particularly in writing.  Don’t believe me?  Go back and have a gander at your earliest output and you’ll likely find a pale version of Janet Evanovich staring back at you (or, for me, Douglas Adams).  As the writer Voltaire once said, though: “Originality is nothing but judicious imitation.  The most original writers borrowed from one another.  The instruction we find in books is like fire.  We fetch it from our neighbors, kindle it at home, communicate it to others, and it becomes the property of all.” Even in the face of the words of a learned master, we resist the notion.  Plagiarism is, after all, a truly vulgar crime, and writing something that another person might point a finger at and say “that’s someone else’s idea” can fill us with dread.  Plagiarism is also not what I’m talking about.  I'm talking about imitation, not theft.

In the creative writing classes I regularly teach, imitation is part of the curriculum.  I direct my students to pieces of writing that contain, at their core, a universal concept that can be applied not only to the original author’s life, but to the lives of each and every person walking the planet.  The concept can be rewritten, customized to the life and experiences of a new writer and will produce an outcome that is completely different from the original, yet retain the basic format. 

For instance, there’s a wonderful prose piece called “The Things I’ve Lost” by writer Brian Arundel.  It’s one that is included in the text book I use for my class, The Practice of Creative Writing by Heather Sellers.  (Full disclosure, Ms. Sellers is the one who hipped me to the Voltaire quote above.  Hers is an excellent text on writing.) 

Please go now and read “The Things I’ve Lost” online.

Back?

Pretty awesome, wasn’t it?  In fact, it’s the sort of piece that should make you mad that you didn’t think of it first, because it’s so simple and perfect in concept, yet easily lends itself to nuance.  Mr. Arundel does a fine job of listing off actual physical items he has misplaced throughout his life, alongside observations of beliefs, ideals, illusions, and opportunities he’s similarly “lost” or abandoned along the way.  It becomes an autobiographical sketch of major aspects of his life in six paragraphs.  And I found it to be the kind of piece that, when I first read it, I wanted to get to the end of it quickly so I could rush away and start my own version because it just seemed like it would be fun to do so.  My students almost always choose to write their own versions too.  And because I’m generally a positive person, I also invite them to try their hand at a similar topic called “The Things I’ve Found.”  Both produce impressive results. Each is completely original while at the same time using Arundel’s basic format as its basis.

There are thousands of other pieces of writing out there that this technique be applied to as well.  You may find you start to see such opportunities without even looking for them.  However, another that Heather Sellers specifically cites for this treatment is the poem “Genealogy” by Betsy Sholl.  It’s another concept that we can each plug our own details into, re-configuring the format as we see fit. 

Imitation is, if nothing else, a great technique for writing warm-ups. You may find it can help in breaking through your creative blocks as well.  And, if not, you have at least been productive.  

Sellers' book includes other techniques for imitation games, such as using poems as scaffolding for producing new work.  I have not found this to be effective in my own writing, but your mileage may vary.

Now, if you still feel at odds with borrowing the format and ideas of another writer, you’re always welcome to credit them.  Poets and writers often include an (after…) parenthetical in their title to indicate the work they’re responding to, or by which they were inspired. 

I wish you impressive results.