Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach

Recently I plucked from the shelf The Artful Edit: On the Practice of Editing Yourself, by Susan Bell. Already I can tell that Susan Bell's approach to editing has less to do with comma-spotting and more to do with staying attentive and open to more important matters: ponder the piece to comprehend its purpose and meaning; listen to determine the pace and sound of the writing itself. Editing anyone's writing in this way calls for objectivity while shepherding both the author and his words. Actually, it requires the same thing when self-editing: objectivity. Bell says this: We are loath to put an objective ear to our subjective selves. But to edit is to listen, above all; to hear past the emotional filters that distort the sound of our all too human words; and to then make choices rather than judgments. As we read our writing, how can we learn to hear ourselves better? (2) We gain time and objectivity to shepherd our own words by listening. But how can we hear past the "emotional filters" she mentions? How can we "learn to hear ourselves better"? Thankfully, Bell offers some suggestions. Create Distance To hear with greater objectivity, try to create some distance from the draft. Figure out how to make it sound less familiar. Here are some of Bell's recommendations: Leave your WIP at desk. Don't sneak pages into a bag or peek at it on your phone. At the end of a writing session, walk away and don't look at it until you return for your next session. Resist continual re-reading and revising. Many writers obsessively pore over their previous work as they write instead of pushing past the existing words with a promise to deal with edits later. Resist re-reading the previous session's output and you'll force the story to progress. If you ignore the words on the screen (or printouts) you can simply write whatever's next. Write longhand. When you forgo the screen and write by hand, you can't so easily go back and delete, insert, or move sections around. Instead, you just keep the pen moving to get the whole thing out, start to finish. It creates distance and helps us pour it all out at once without fussing over each little segment. Set it aside. Create emotional distance from the work by building in a substantial break from the time you finish the draft and the time you return to begin editing. Change the font or size. It's such a simple trick and so easy to do with our current technology. Get a fresh look at your words by simply changing the font from Times New Roman to Georgia or from Arial to Garamond. Then pump it up from 12 point to 14. Changing the way it looks changes the way you see the words you so faithfully churned out the first time. Chances are, you'll notice typos, missing words, repetition, and unneeded punctuation you overlooked before. Send it. Yeah, go ahead and publish the thing somewhere, on a blog or social media. Send it to a beta reader and ask for input. That's when it gets real. Knowing we have a reader on the other end forces us to run our words through a different filter, think differently about it, and get it ready for prime time. Read Aloud By far the best way to learn to listen and "hear ourselves better" is to actually...hear ourselves. Read your work aloud. I know you will be loath to do this, to borrow a phrase from Bell—no one seems to like the sound of his own voice. But try it. Read it aloud. Read it to a friend. Read it to your dog. Read it in public. Record yourself and play it back. If you need some distance from your own voice, have someone else read it aloud to you. Or, if you want to go high-tech, most computers have some way of reading text to you. In the book, Susan Bell quotes Samuel Butler,

Curious writers are generally creative and productive, and able to achieve their writing goals—all while having fun. This is no surprise to you—I say it every week! Curiosity can fuel our writing projects and our writing lives so we can create our best possible work. But curiosity can also send us off willy-nilly with no plan or accountability, distracting us from deadlines and keeping us from wrapping up projects. In fact, every once in awhile, curiosity ruins my writing. And if you’re not careful, it can ruin yours, too. Here are five ways curiosity can ruin our writing. 1. Too Curious about our Environment Interruptions and distractions can throw us off, but outside distractions alone aren’t always to blame. Sometimes what threatens my productivity or the depth of my ideas isn’t the distraction so much as my curiosity about the distraction. Let’s say the phone rings. Someone else answers the phone, so I don’t have to lift a finger from the keyboard. And yet, a minute later, curiosity kicks in and I’m distracted from my work: "Wait, who called? Is it a reminder call from the doctor? Will I have to make an appointment somewhere?” Or we’re listening to music in the cafe or the coworking space or we have our own headphones on and start to think, "I wonder who wrote that song? What’s that line?" The notification dings on the phone. Curiosity is behind that knee-jerk response: “Should I check who sent that, or can it wait?” Or, “Isn’t that my Words with Friends notification?” So it’s not only the distractions that distract—it’s our curiosity about the distractions that can disrupt a writing session. Solution: Try asking a question out loud about the writing project to distract from the distraction and bring yourself back to the work. It reminds the brain where to direct its attention, like: “What would make this section stronger?” or “What am I trying to say here about the topic?” Redirect your curiosity about the environment over to re-engage with the work. 2. Too Curious about the Next New Program or System Have you found yourself curious about systems? This is like Shiny Object Syndrome. It’s when you’re curious to try a new organizational tool, word processing program, or productivity app, and you spend a few hours researching it, downloading it, messing around to understand how it works. Then you spend another hour moving all your information over. You're kind of slow using it at first because you’re still adapting, and just when you gain some momentum, you hear about another system and find yourself drawn to give it a try. And you go through the process all over again. All the while, you could have been writing. Solution: Productivity experts will tell you this about those alluring systems: The best system is the one you already use. Pick one. Commit. And resist anything that’s interrupting your writing. Don’t worry if Trello’s color scheme isn’t your favorite or Evernote’s tagging system feels a bit cumbersome or Scrivener looks a lot cooler than Google Drive. If Google Drive is working well, stick with that. Curb your curiosity next time someone entices you to try something else. 3. Too Curious During the Research Stage Curiosity is a friend to the research process…to a point. Driven by insatiable curiosity, we research and research and research for a short story, novel, article, or essay, and we follow interesting tidbits that branch out to more and more interesting tidbits. In reality, if we stepped back and took a look at our notes, we might see we already have what we need to get busy writing the story to meet the deadline. Our curiosity about the subject matter can drive us deep into rabbit holes, digging up interesting but unnecessary information instea...

Last time we talked about enjoying our vein of gold as we decide what to write next. To discover our strength as a writer—writing that represents our brightest, most brilliant contributions—I proposed we may have to experiment and try new genres, new subject matter, or even expressing ourselves in a new and different voice that may turn out to be our truest voice. What intrigues you? What have you been tempted to write? How might you write it? Experiment. Give it a try. Experimentation Expands Us Through these experiments, we might uncover something we’re better at than anything we’ve tried before. Or we may confirm that our vein of gold is what we’ve invested in the most already. Either way, we learn something new. And even if our experimental efforts aren’t going to win a National Book Award, we will have expanded our repertoire and quite possibly our very selves. Experimentation is how to tap into new spaces inside…discover new possibilities…gain new insights. Experimentation Is Risky If you’re going to step out of your comfort zone to try something new, however, you’ll be taking a risk. You probably already thought of that—it may be what’s holding you back. Risk-aversive writers may resist, and I can’t promise your experiments will end all rainbows and unicorns. Your experiment could have any number of outcomes: It may stretch you. It may captivate you. You might love it. You might hate it. Readers might love it. Readers might hate it. You might feel like you’ve landed flat on your face and feel embarrassed, wondering why you wasted your time. You might feel like you’ve produced your best work ever—and you’ll wonder why you’ve invested so much time and energy on whatever you’ve been doing all these years. Then again, your experiment might result in something far less dramatic. You might simply learn a clever new technique or dig up a pleasant memory. You might make yourself and your reader chuckle or shed a tear before shifting back to the tried and true work you’re known for. Whether your experiment lands you at one extreme or the other—or somewhere in-between—don’t be afraid to try. If you’re tempted, give it a go. In the film The Greatest Showman, P.T. Barnum’s protege Phillip Carlyle says, "You’re risking everything you’ve built.” Without missing a beat, Barnum replies, "Well how do you think I built it?” Creativity Requires Risk Interesting, creative work usually requires risk. And risk…is risky. Readers not expecting you to tackle a new topic or genre or tone may be thrown off and respond with shock, surprise, delight, or derision. You won’t know until you try. But risk, even in the form of tiny, everyday creative risks, is how you grow as a writer and, over time, it’s how you build a writing career. Monet often painted the same subject in a series—haystacks, bridges, lily pads, a cathedral. He experimented with subtle changes in light and color, and the impact of weather and time of day on the scene. Given that, one might argue he stayed in his vein of gold. But Monet, the father of Impressionism, didn’t start out with those famous quick brush strokes he’s known for today. He started out with charcoal, then trained with oils, experimenting with a new medium and eventually a new style. He submitted his early work to the Salon, you know, the “establishment," and those first pieces played more or less by the rules of the day. Eventually, though, he experimented. He expanded his repertoire. He took his work outdoors, en plein air, and shifted to give the impression of a scene more than rendering it realistically. The “establishment" didn’t react favorably. Monet,

If you were to meet me in person, you’d find out I’m a little silly. My humor is situational, and a story grows more animated in relation to audience reaction—which I don’t have in real time here on the podcast. If we were together in person and I saw that you and other listeners were amused by something I said, I’d play around with it and gauge how far I could take it. I'd make goofy faces and do voices if it added punch to the punchline. This may be hard for you to believe, since you usually hear me on this podcast speaking in a fairly measured, calm tone. But, yeah, if you were to meet me in person I think you’d be surprised. I’ve had more than one client say they did not expect me to be fun or funny. What Do I Write Next: Exploring Strengths I’ve often wondered if that represents untapped potential for my writing. In fact, when I’m trying to decide what to write next, I occasionally ponder the possibility of exploring humor. Could I pull it off? Would people laugh? Then I remember the times I’ve tried to translate my comical side to the page. I’ve not done it often, but when I have…it’s usually fallen flat. In contrast, I’ve found that the strongest reactions to my writing over the years have come in response to quiet, reflective, somewhat melancholy pieces. Restrained, vulnerable memoir seems to be my vein of gold. The Vein of Gold Back in the late 1990s I discovered Julia Cameron’s book The Vein of Gold on a library bookshelf. She explains where she got the concept and phrase she used in the title. It came from a chat she had with film director Martin Ritt, when he said: All actors have a certain territory, a certain range, they were born to play. I call that range their ‘vein of gold.’ If you cast an actor within that vein, he will always give you a brilliant performance. Of course, you can always cast an actor outside his vein of gold. If you do, the actor can use craft and technique to give you a very fine, a very creditable performance, but never a performance as brilliant as when he is working in his vein of gold. (Cameron, 99) To explore this, Cameron considers Robert De Niro's roles that feature male bonding versus anything focusing on the love of a woman. De Niro’s vein of gold: male bonding roles. Kevin Kline in comedy versus drama. Kline’s vein of gold: comedy. Meryl Streep in comedy compared with high drama. Julia Cameron’s book was published in 1996, and I think most of us would agree with Cameron’s conclusion that at that time, Streep’s vein of gold was drama. Discovering a Writer’s Vein of Gold I've thought about that phrase—that idea—on and off for years. Is Mr. Ritt’s theory correct? Does an actor have a vein of gold? Does a writer? If so, what’s my vein of gold? Have I stumbled into the kind of writing where I’m regularly giving my finest performance? The concept is arguable, but let’s say for now he's correct: that every artist—whether actor, sculptor, singer, or writer—has a vein of gold. Subject Matter Gold For writers, maybe it comes out in the topics we write about. Whenever we compose a book review, our critical analysis makes readers consider the title more carefully and we realized this is where we shine. We write about culture or politics or sports, and our writing exudes energy, spark, or sizzle. When that happens, we may have stumbled into our subject matter vein of gold. One day we switch things up to experiment: we take a freelance job writing about sports when we’re best at book reviews. After a few weeks we realize we’ve mastered the jargon and learned all the stats—we offer a very fine, a very creditable finished product—but it’s not what anyone would call brilliant. Alternately, we may discover we’ve found a new area of passion and write e...

A few weeks ago, when I introduced the idea of how we can decide what to write next, I proposed several ways a writer can approach that decision. One was to write whatever’s next in sequence. Write What’s Next in Sequence If you’re writing a novel, tackle the next chapter. Your short story will need the next scene. A poem grows with the next line leading to the next stanza. An article will expand with another paragraph or section. If you write DIY tutorials, you write in sequence to show the viewer or reader what to do next in order, one step after another. The sequential approach can be a logical way to decide within an existing project what to write next. In those cases, the answer is often right in front of us. What’s the Next Action? A simple way to keep those projects moving along is to ask the question “What's the next action?” Answer that, and you often realize right away you must simply write the next line, the next stanza, and so on. This question is an essential element in David Allen's Getting Things Done system, also known as GTD. When you think of a project you’re currently working on or one that you’re considering, try asking “What’s the next action?” Answer it with a statement that begins with a verb. Because we’re talking about writing, the statement will probably begin with “write”: Write chapter 17 Write the last stanza in the poem “Chase the Sun” Write the promo video script Write about the puke-y flight from Brussels for the travel article (yeah…I won’t on it elaborate here) “What’s the next action?” helps break down big projects into manageable actions so you know what to write next. Instead of scheduling a writing block on the calendar and labeling it “Blog post,” you can add the specific action, like, “Write the last two paragraphs for blog post.” With this approach, you know precisely what to write next. This focusing question works best when the projects offer obvious answers. Why Not Write a Series? But when you’ve closed out a project and you’re deciding what’s the next big undertaking, it’s not always so clear what to write next. You can still think in terms of sequences, though. In fact, you could even have some fun creating a sequence—how about a series? You could introduce a serial format to something you weren’t originally visualizing that way. It can hold your own creative interest as a writer as well as the interest of the busy, easily distracted reader. Writing and publishing short-form work in sequence—in a series—can work well for short attention spans while encouraging people to return for more. A series gives you a means to dive deeper into a topic, or explore it more widely in its applications, or look at it from many angles. Publishing novels in a series creates multiple entry points for readers who can dig in and read the entire collection. Series Ideas Want some ideas? Short Stories On your website, what if you release a series of short stories linked in some way? Maybe they’re all set in the same town or feature an ensemble of characters who alternate getting center stage from story to story. Novel Write and release a novel in serial form on your website. This should be a novel you didn’t intend to pitch to agents or publish traditionally; it would be something you just want to share with the world. You’ll be following in Charles Dickens’ footsteps, who his books in serial format in newspapers. Or, as I mentioned, you could write and publish novels in a series—anything from a detective series or sci-fi trilogy, to a realistic world peopled with characters like Father Tim in Jan Karon's Mitford series.

Last week I presented you with a long list of ways you can decide what to write next and then I promised to expand on some of them. One suggestion was to decide to write something you can finish and ship fast. Projects Big and Small Big goals and big projects hold potential for big payoffs. If you finish that book, for example, it may propel you closer to your highest, most important life or career goals. I encourage you to see it through, because your big ol' work in progress is going to require focused effort for the next several months or years, and you’ll feel so amazing when it’s done. But if you’re in the middle of that long-term project, you may realize you’re not going to get any real feedback on it for a long stretch of time. You’re not going to enjoy a sense of completion until it’s done. As you keep plugging away at it, day after day, you must be persistent and patient and take the long-range view to maintain motivation. Do that work. Don’t stop. However…consider giving your spirits and brain a little boost by assigning yourself a shorter project now and then. What can you write that you can finish and ship fast? Could you... finish the short story you started and send it to a literary magazine push out thoughtful commentary via social media write and submit a poem to a journal express one complete idea or story via blog post send a letter to the editor about a concern that disturbs you compose a thoughtful book review to share via Goodreads and Amazon pitch guest post ideas to a website you enjoy write a fan letter or email to an author you admire Assuming you’re able to complete a short project like this without derailing your primary work in progress, the quick turnaround will offer a satisfying sense of completion. You’ll feel happy—even proud—and you can return to your big project with increased enthusiasm. You mustn’t abandon the big commitment, of course, if you’ve got that in the works. It’s just that deciding to pursue something you can finish and ship fairly quickly changes us. Completion satisfies. Achieving Small Goals Motivates Us to Pursue the Big Goals Professors Francesca Gino and Bradley Staats wrote in a Harvard Business Review article: [F]inishing immediate, mundane tasks actually improves your ability to tackle tougher, important things. Your brain releases dopamine when you achieve goals. And since dopamine improves attention, memory, and motivation, even achieving a small goal can result in a positive feedback loop that makes you more motivated to work harder going forward. A little dopamine hit from shipping those projects sounds like a great benefit. What writer doesn’t crave a positive feedback loop? Heaven knows we could all use some motivation to work harder and move forward. Don’t Undermine Your Primary Objective Completion and feedback loops satisfy something deep within as we feel we’ve made progress, so I encourage you to consider shorter projects you can ship faster as a legitimate element of your writing life. But I also offer a warning. If you feel jazzed by a hundred likes and dozens of retweets on social media, you might be tempted to devote excessive time to the mundane and too little to important projects. Be careful not to let the delight of shipping shorter projects undermine the work that matters most. If you have a big goal to complete a big project, make it your priority and be sure to allocate time for it. Of course, if short-form work represents your primary focus as a writer and you don’t even attempt long-form writing, you’re set. Go for it. Dive into your next short project with joy and confidence, knowing this is who you are as a writer. If you’re an essayist, blogger, microblogger, or poet,

Every day, a writer wakes up and asks, “What do I write next?” And the answer varies from writer to writer—even your own answer may change from week to week. Sometimes it’ll be obvious what to write next. When you’re approaching a looming deadline and that article or chapter must be completed, the decision is made for you. You sit down and work on that. But other days you have flexibility. You can write anything you want. How do you choose? Can we be sure the next thing we write is the right thing to write, or the best thing? Do we need to be sure? I don’t think there’s an absolute right or wrong answer. You choose. But you usually choose based on something, whether consciously or subconsciously. And if you make the choice based on something that rings true with your values and supports where you’re at in your journey, you can feel good about your decision. Ways to Decide The next few weeks, we’ll go through various ways you can decide, so you’ll feel a little more confident moving forward on whatever you do write next. Write Something That Moves You Toward Your Goals When you’re trying to decide what to write next, you may already have clear goals in mind. You want to submit poetry to literary journals in hopes of being published this year, or you want to put together a book proposal and send it to an agent this fall. Knowing your goals can help you start with the end in mind and work your way back so that you know what to write today and the next day. For you, the question “What do I write next?” will be easily answered by those goals—your next thing to write will be whatever moves you closer to that goal. But you may not be that clear about your goals. You may not know where you want to be in a year or what you want to do even in the next month or so. Or you’re re-evaluating your goals. Or you just want to write. That’s okay. You don’t have to overthink it or get uptight about your decision. But if you want to give it some thought, I’m going to toss out various filters or motivations that might help you begin to think about your next writing project and make a decision. This list will serve as an overview, and then in the weeks ahead, I'll go into more detail on some of them. So…How do I decide what I write next? Write Something That Increases your Skills One way to decide what to write next is to take stock of your skills and experience. Do you need to work on something? You could pick a project based on its ability to help you hone the craft and develop yourself as a writer. Write Something You Can Finish and Ship Fast If you’re working on a long-term project and have been for years, you may realize you’re not going to get any real feedback on it for several more months and you won’t know what readers think for months or even a year after that. An occasional shorter project lets you enjoy quick turnaround and a sense of completion. This could be something as immediate as a social media update or as formal as a poem sent to a literary magazine. Write What’s Next in Sequence If you’re writing a blog article series, write the post that explains the next step or stage. If you’re writing a novel, tackle the next scene. Your short story will need the next beat. A poem grows with the next line leading to the next stanza. An article will expand with another paragraph or section. The sequential approach can be a logical way to decide what to write next. Write Something for Validation You may want to write something in hopes of a magazine acceptance. You’ll get that feeling of being chosen. “Hey, they picked me! They picked my article! Someone other than my spouse and mom says my writing is worth publishing.” After that, you may have readers responding and enjoy anothe...

This fall, I traveled to New York City for the first time. I’d been concerned about how to navigate the city; I'd never before been there. I didn’t know what to expect, and wasn't sure how things work. Should we take taxis? The subway? Uber? I was nervous. A little scared, honestly, because everything was so unknown and unfamiliar. But I went. I said “yes” to the trip, did a little reading and research, and finally, I decided to trust that my traveling companion and I were smart enough to figure it out. Once we were there, we found our way using Google Maps in "walking" mode. We turned the wrong way a few times—actually, every time—but we'd revise our path, turn down a different street, and you know what? We arrived at our destinations—even if it meant we took the long way a few times. And we laughed a lot at how our first few steps were almost always in the wrong direction, but we eventually figured it out. We even hopped on the subway to visit some sights with no problem. Once I familiarized myself with the unfamiliar, my concern shifted to confidence. My fear dissipated as we figured it out. Dive In If you've never written a long literary essay—or something bigger, like a novel or a nonfiction book—you might be concerned about all the details involved in the process. It's unfamiliar, so you might feel nervous, intimidated—even a little scared. Writers who dread the learning curve and fear failure might put it off indefinitely and never even try to tackle that essay or book. The best way to familiarize yourself with anything is to do a little research up front, and then...take a deep breath and dive in. Drive to the city and find your way around. Open up Google Docs or Microsoft Word and start making an outline or writing the first chapter. As you begin, you’ll start to see what you understand and don’t understand; what you have and don’t have. You’ll poke around and find answers to your questions. Figure It Out as You Go This is the year to tackle that complicated, unfamiliar new writing project. Start writing your story and eventually you’ll figure out how to set up a filing system that works well for your content. Start writing your essay and you’ll discover something you need to research. Sure, you might get turned around at first, not having much of a plan. You might have to regroup or revise something after the fact. But there’s very little that can’t be reworked and reorganized, often with less effort than you thought. If you've been putting off a project that feels foreign and you're unsure how to tackle it, start writing it. Figure it out as you go. And I suspect—I hope—you'll find the unfamiliar will grow familiar faster than you imagined. Fear Stops Us from Starting I released a course this week, and if you’re curious about it, you can go to annkroeker.com/courses and it should take you to the page for my school. The course is called: The Organized Writer: Tap into the Power of an Editorial Calendar. I’d love for you to take a look at the description because if you’re in a state of overwhelm and fear regarding a big project that you have no idea how to create, I want you to know…I can relate. I know how you feel. It took forever for me to start making this video-driven course. There was too much unfamiliar to navigate—I had to record several kinds of video requiring several kinds of video editing, all of which was new to me. I was using new equipment and new software. I was so intimidated by it, for ages I didn’t even start; for months, I resisted. I put off even playing around with things, dreading the learning curve. Then, one weekend,

Not long ago, I presented to you the concept of a writing pipeline. The stages are: Research Ideas Drafts Final Edits Shipped Archive (or Portfolio) A project enters the pipeline when it’s an idea, germinating and growing in the idea folder. It’s a more formal project when it hits the draft stage. Each stage of development takes time, and you’ll see your writing life take off when you identify and schedule each stage. Use an editorial calendar, and you'll line up your projects—and each stage of each project—churning out content more reliably, meeting deadlines and reaching goals. How Long Will It Take? When you first begin using an editorial calendar, however, it can be hard to know when to work on the various stages of a given project. It’s difficult to map it out when you don’t know how long things take and you’re not sure what you need to do in each stage. To figure it out, reverse engineer the process. Start with the end and work your way back. If you’d like, you can use an individual Project Planning Worksheet for this that has a simple grid. In hopes of simplifying the process and motivating you to take action, I’ve made a planning sheet available for you to download. You won’t have to use these forever, but they can be great while discovering stages, time frames, and projected due dates for each stage. Case Study: Blog Post Let’s say I want to publish a blog post at my website on January 19. And I’m going to write about finding creative writing spaces to do our work. Or maybe it’ll be about creatively finding writing spaces. Either way. that’s what I’ll use as my working title: “Creative Writing Spaces." Start at the End The first step will be to write down the working title—“Creative Writing Spaces”—and the end date, or pub date: January 19. On the downloadable sheet, I include a space for notes, as well, in case you want to record an extra thought for later. The Questions While moving through the Project Planning Worksheet, I’ll ask: “What’s the stage before this?” “What needs to happen so it’s ready for this stage?” “How long will that take?” The answers to these three questions will point you to the next stage and deadline. Discover the Stage Before Published In this case, I’ll start the questioning. I’ll ask: What’s the stage before this? The answer? “Creative Writing Spaces” needs to be prepped in WordPress. What needs to happen so it’s ready for this stage? I’ll need the text and have to add some code and a photo. Add some tags. How long will it take? About an hour. And let’s say I’ll prep it the day before. I'll write on my worksheet—or I could write it directly on my editorial calendar and skip the worksheet—Prepped: January 18. Under "Notes," I could write down one hour or remind myself to refer to a blog post workflow. Anything to help me easily follow through. What's the Stage Before Prepped? As I continue working through my Project Planning Worksheet I ask: What’s the stage before this? This article needs to have been edited and proofread and in its final version before it can be prepped. What needs to happen so it’s ready for this stage? I need to have written the draft and allowed some time to edit and proofread. How long will that take? Let’s say I like to leave at least a day between the finished draft and final edits. That puts the work at January 16. I write on my worksheet—or directly on my editorial calendar—the finished article needs to be edited an...

You’re writing. Everything’s moving along just fine, and then. Huh. You hit a section that won’t flow. You write a line or two and it feels convoluted. Or you’re not sure how to best express the idea. Or something’s missing and you’re not sure what. Or you just stop, blocked. Try this. On the page—or on the screen, depending on where you’re writing—actually write this phrase: "What I’m trying to say is…” Then finish that phrase. Write, without stopping. Discover What You’re Trying to Say Finishing the phrase often: clarifies the complexity supplies the best words fills in the gaps clears away blockage Finish the phrase and ideas flow freely. By writing and finishing that thought, you discover what you intend to say, the message you plan to share, the idea you want to develop. If you’re plagued by a formal, stilted tone in your written communication, this phrase invites more natural expression—your writing voice emerges as you say what you’re trying to say in a straightforward, easy-to-understand way. Usually it more closely mirrors your speaking voice and friends will say, “I feel like I can hear your voice when I read what you write." When You Really Don’t Know What You’re Trying to Say Let’s say you're stuck and try this technique, but absolutely no words flow. You type out (or write out by hand) “What I’m trying to say is…” ...and not a single thought comes to mind. Well, it could be you don’t know what you’re trying to say. In other words, maybe the problem is not so much how to say something—maybe you still don’t know what to say. It’s not fully formulated. You need to give the idea more time to sort itself out and become clear in your head. Step Away from the Work If this is your situation, step away from the keyboard. Do something else for a while. Your idea could come into focus after a break. Walk the dog Exercise Read a book Run an errand Take a shower Now and then, casually ask yourself, "What am I trying to say?” At some point… A-ha. It may take a little more time than you expect to answer the question, but it will come to you. When you think you’ve clarified your idea, return to the keyboard or notebook and try again. “What I’m trying to say is…” Keep writing. If you experienced that a-ha moment, you’ll know what you want to say and it’ll show up on the page. Some Ideas Need More Time If your writing is more involved—if the idea requires more than a brisk walk to uncover and construct—paste your draft into a mobile device so you can add thoughts as they come. Sometimes while reading an article in the waiting room of the doctor’s office or while simply driving down the road, our minds will experience breakthrough. It’s good to capture those words on the spot, before they drift away. In the doctor’s office, you can add a few new thoughts to an Evernote draft. In the car, at a stoplight, you can record a note to self using Voxer or a voice recording app. To develop an idea and build it out, take a minute to explore, in the middle of writing chapters and sections and stages: “What I’m trying to say is…" Give those more complex ideas time to develop and you’ll find the concept taking shape. Use It to Find Your Summary This simple phrase can help when you’re condensing, as well. Writers often have to summarize their projects in a hook, two-sentence summary, or elevator pitch. When you’re struggling to succinctly explain your book concept, you can use this same phrase to express it in the simplest form.

Writing takes time, and life is short. When experts recommend we post content on Facebook and on blogs and in newsletters and YouTube and all these places while we’re trying to write essays or articles or books, we can feel deflated and defeated. How on earth are we supposed to produce that much content? It’s easy to just say, “Forget it. I can only write one thing at a time." Repurpose Your Writing to Connect with More People I’m not super strategic, and I tend to write just one thing at at time, but I’m discovering ways to repurpose content in order to connect with more people in places like Facebook and on my blog and in newsletters. What I’ve been doing most often is writing one solid piece—usually an article that’s available as a podcast episode, like this one. Then, if it seems workable, I repurpose it—that is, I repackage it in some way, or cut it down, or, if its short, I expand on it. The various versions head out to appropriate destinations often with slightly different audiences and purposes. For example, about a month ago in my weekly newsletter, I described a trip I took to New York City with a client. It was my first-ever trip there, and because my sole purpose was publishing-related, I thought it might be interesting to my subscribers. Then I realized, Hey, this could be an article at my website. You may have noticed that articles at my website are also available as podcast episodes, so that story I wrote for subscribers ended up as an article and a podcast episode. And then, on Instagram, I posted a photo of me standing in Times Square that did not appear in the article at my website or in the newsletter. Along with that photo, I posted a short story about the trip that was really similar to the original, but different. In other words, I didn’t write anything new; instead I tweaked the article, cutting some material and changing the focus a little bit, and published it there in Instagram. So far, it seems to be one of my most popular images. I took one idea, spun it different ways and shared in different spaces for different people. That’s repurposing writing. Whether you start small and go big or start big and go small, this will save you time as you reach more people. You can start with one little nugget of an idea—maybe a thought you had, or a quote you came across and posted on Twitter—and expand that one small nugget into a full-blown article, essay, or book chapter. Or you could start with a full-blown, fully developed project and pare it down until you express it at its simplest core thought—perhaps as a quote—on Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter. Start Small, Go Big Let’s say you start with a quote you find. Here’s one I came across in my reading not too long ago: Honor the world by observing it truly and writing about it with humility. (Walter Wangerin, Jr.)¹ That rang true to my ear…and my heart. So I shared it as-is on Instagram as the caption accompanying a photo of a leaf. I didn’t say more. I didn’t offer commentary, though I often do. I simply shared the line and the source for other writers to ponder. https://www.instagram.com/p/BZzDeDHB147/ My hope was that maybe they, too, would find that it rang true to their ears and their hearts, and they, too, would feel inspired to observe and write with attentiveness, honesty, and humility. I could just let that be what it is: a quote on Instagram. It doesn’t need to be more. But I was looking at that quote a few days ago thinking about the concept of repurposing by expanding on it. I could illustrate its message with a story from my own life and my own attempts to honor the world with my true observations humbly expressed in words. Case Study: How to Expand

And so it begins. The holidays. Here in the U.S., Thanksgiving kind of kicks things off with gatherings and feasts and shopping and decorating. Over the weekend, lights blink on in neighborhood yards and Bing Crosby will croon Christmas tunes from the stereo most nights. It’s hard to know how much writing we can actually produce in the middle of the holidays. Do we write, or take a break? If we write, how much and how often? If we take a break, for how long? Writing and Not Writing on Breaks During Christmas break, my husband usually arranges for time off work between Christmas and New Year’s Day so he can coordinate with the kids’ break from school. When the children were little, I’d keep work hours to a minimum or put my writing and editing on pause during that time, to rest and focus on family. We avoided ambitious plans and stayed low key. We’d sleep in, work on a big puzzle, and watch movies. But in more recent years, I’ve been known to keep work hours during the holidays, finishing up a long project during the break because the kids sleep in and the house is quiet. In fact, one year we decided to travel to visit family during that break. We left town the day after Christmas, and on the long drive south I spent hours poring over a client’s book manuscript to offer developmental input. I remember phoning my client about the project, chatting about various chapters while looking out the windshield of our RV, wipers swishing away the rain. After days of balancing my Macbook Pro on my lap, making notes and recommendations, shooting emails back and forth, reviewing changes, and finalizing chapters, the author and I celebrated. We met the deadline. So I’ve done both. I’ve written, and not written during the holidays. Deciding How to Write in the Middle of the Holidays When I grapple with how to handle my writing during the holidays—or when I consider totally unplugging—I think through my family’s expectations and needs as well as my deadlines and work responsibilities in light of the overall plans. And that can change from year to year. Will I be hosting Thanksgiving for just my immediate family? Will others join us? Or will we be invited to someone else’s house for the day? During Christmas break, have the kids made a lot of plans with friends, or will they be relaxing at home? Do I feel a more urgent need to take a significant break myself or could I write for small stretches when others are sleeping or occupied? You may have other traditions or events to celebrate with a different set of expectations for participation. Each writer has to take into account his own personality, traditions, and obligations when deciding how much to work—or whether to work at all—during the holidays. Deadlines: Consider your writing deadlines. Do you have something due before the end of the year or in early January, like my client did that one year? You might have to squeeze in a few minutes most days or a chunk of time on a couple of days. If you’re flexible, however, without any hard deadlines, you might have the option of a longer break. Work feels like play: For a lot of writers, projects feel less like work and more like play. If that’s you, taking time to write in the middle of the holidays may not even feel like work; instead, your writing may offer a healthy mental and emotional break. Non-writing activities: What kinds of non-writing tasks related to your writing could you tackle? While everyone else is watching football, maybe you could grab a notebook and brainstorm ideas for an upcoming assignment or generate an outline? What about creating a detailed to-do list, breaking a major project into smaller, actionable steps?

My husband is fluent in both French and English. During the first years of our marriage, I worked hard to learn some French on my own. I wanted to be functional in the language when we visited his family overseas. Afraid to Speak I established basic grammar from used textbooks I picked up at bookstores, and my husband coached me on pronunciation. I bought a set of cassette tapes—yes, they were still around—and CDs, and eventually a video series, which I worked with nearly every day. Over the course of five or six years, I built up a fairly strong base. But the times I actually visited Belgium, I relied entirely on my husband to translate for me. I knew my grammar would be off if I spoke, and I hated the thought of sounding like a child. As a language person, I wanted to express myself perfectly. My career as a writer focused on my drive to find the best phrasing possible and make the fewest mistakes. I was too proud or vain or nervous or shy to try express myself in baby talk in another language. In this arena of life, I was a perfectionist. I could have jumped in and made mistakes and learned along the way, but I didn’t. Forced to Speak One year we were in Belgium to attend my brother-in-law’s wedding, and on that visit my husband became gravely ill and was hospitalized. My in-laws helped me comprehend all the medical jargon throughout the ordeal, but day-to-day interactions were no longer translated for me by my husband because he had surgery and was confined to a hospital bed for several weeks of recovery. If I wanted to purchase bread at the bread store or buy stamps or visit with family or friends, I would have to risk sounding like a child. I would have to let go of my stubborn perfectionism. On that trip, on an unusually sunny afternoon, I left the hospital after a visit with my husband, and thought to myself, “Hey, you know, he almost died. Why on earth am I worried about how I sound to these people?” Free to Speak And I decided I just didn’t care about how I sounded any longer—or, rather, that I didn’t need to care. Being too proud to speak French because I didn’t want to make a mistake seemed pretty silly and vain in light of our situation. I finally let go of my pride and perfectionism and self-consciousness and whatever else was at play. Better to use what I had and sound like a child—or, a foreigner, which is what I was—than to say nothing. Starting that day, I tapped into the French inside me and started to speak. When friends and extended family came to visit my mother- and father-in-law, I listened to the conversation and, on occasion, opened my mouth and spoke a little French. Everyone was so pleased to hear my attempts, they helped me along by supplying a missing word or gently correcting pronunciation or verb tense. Grocery store clerks leaned in and listened to try to understand my question or spoke slowly when I explained I was American and spoke only a little bit of French. The woman at the bread store gladly bagged up my requests when I pointed at the pistolets and baguettes and held up my fingers to indicate the amount of each and followed up with merci. I’d take my kids to the park and listen to other children’s chatter. If they talked to me, I’d tell them my children and I spoke English but if they repeated it slowly, I’d try to understand their French. Guess what happened? My French got better. Fast. By taking the risk of sounding immature and imperfect, I willingly made mistakes, rapidly gaining skills and learning how to wield the language. Use It and Improve Because I wasn’t so uptight or nervous, my brain relaxed. I could tap into the knowledge I had accumulated to speak as thoroughly and accurately as I was able, knowing it wasn’t perfect.

In October, I had the honor of accompanying a client to New York City, where she met with her editor and publisher. In person. Face to face. Digital Connections: Intimate or Distant? In the digital age, face-to-face interaction is becoming more and more rare. Apps and programs make it possible for us to sit in our houses and reach out to the world with the click of a button. This is amazing and makes me happy to be a working writer in the 21st century. However, those same apps and programs can lead us to a false sense of connection—they convince some of us we no longer need to bother with meeting people in person. I'm guilty of thinking that way. My life is full, so I prefer to run meetings from home. It's easier, cheaper, and I can wear pajamas if I want. Why Bother with Face-to-Face? As a teacher, my client knows the importance of face to face. That's why she made it happen, at great expense of personal resources. In fact, she landed her contract as a result of "in real life" interactions. She attended a conference where she met a representative from the publishing company. They discussed her project and she was invited to send her proposal, which allowed her to bypass the slush pile and land directly into a gatekeeper's email inbox. In other words, before scheduling this trip to NYC, my client had already made face-to-face contact which led to her already securing a contract. And she had already turned in her manuscript. Why bother with another face-to-face when she'd already gained all that a writer would want? She wanted them to hear her absolute commitment to the book's success. She wanted to learn more about their marketing plan and get a feel for the requested changes. She wanted to thank them. In person. So she asked if they would set aside a few minutes for her, and they did. They were glad to meet with her. We sat across from the publisher and chatted with him. We moved to the conference room to discuss the manuscript and marketing with her editor. We toured the offices and went out to lunch. As a result, her editor now has a face and voice to go with her name. He'll be able to hear the tone in her written words each time she shoots him an email. She'll picture him as he requests changes. The publisher got to experience her dynamic personality—confirmation they were smart to sign her. You Become a Person Face to face is how we become more than words on a page. It’s how we connect as human beings—as partners in the work. It's how we build trust. This is why I encourage writers to attend conferences where literary agents and acquisitions editors offer one-on-one pitching sessions. When you've fully developed your book project, find those events. Sign up for the one-on-ones. Meet with people in person and let them hear your passion for your project. Look them in the eye and thank them for listening. When you get home, write handwritten notes. I know it's not always possible to make this happen if you're limited on funds and time. But one day, when your project is ready to pitch, try to find a way to connect with gatekeepers in person. Learn to talk about your project concisely and with enthusiasm. Practice with your family and friends. You'll gain greater clarity and confidence expressing your ideas and convincing people your story or concepts are just what the world needs to read. If you’ve been working with an agent or editor, travel to their city and take them out to coffee. Thank them for their work. Ask how you can best serve the project. Find out how often they’re comfortable hearing from you and if they prefer phone calls or emails. They’ll appreciate your desire to communicate in a way that’s convenient for them. I Hope You Make It Happen It costs to meet people in person.

Last time we talked about how lack of time is a universal frustration for people who want to write. And I offered a solution that could kickstart your writing and prove to yourself it can be done—you can write even when you think you have no time at all. In this episode, you’re going to see how a simple practice will help you enjoy some quick wins. This, too, will prove to yourself that you can write even when it seems you have no time to spare. Daily Paragraph Every day, write a paragraph. That’s it. Write one paragraph for your work-in-progress every night. You might argue that word count works better. If it does, great. Write that many words. And make sure they add up to at least one paragraph. If you can't reach your target word count, won't it be great if you have one complete paragraph done? You can always write more. You might argue that you need to sit at your computer for a set amount of time. Great. Sit there. But while you’re sitting there for that set amount of time, write one paragraph. Yes, while you're sitting there. Because you could also sit there and do nothing or sneak a peek at Instagram. And I want you to write one paragraph. Why a paragraph? Because it is a discrete block of writing. It can stand alone while contributing to the whole. It has its own mini beginning, middle, and end. If you write a full paragraph, you’re going to feel like you completed an idea—a subtopic of the larger piece or a scene of the larger story—because that's exactly what a paragraph is: one fully developed idea. You don’t get a pass if you write blog posts and the paragraphs are one sentence long or if you write fiction and you write one line of dialogue that has to stand on its own. If that's what your work-in-progress needs next, write a scene. This technically may take several “paragraphs” before you’re done, but it will satisfy that need to arrive at completion so your brain realizes you're making progress. How to Do It Open a Word document, Google doc, Evernote note, spiral notebook. It doesn't matter what you use—just open something you can write in. If you didn't get a block of time yet to kickstart the project, on the first night, map out an article or story. Mind map or outline or make a little list of what your ideas are and what you might like to say. That’s the only night you won’t write an official paragraph, but you’re thinking about all the paragraphs you’re going to write, so that’s legit. Next night, write one paragraph. It doesn't necessarily have to be sequential. If you’re struggling to figure out an introduction, write any paragraph, address any point, dive into any scene. Next night, look at the plan, read the paragraph from the night before, add anything you think of to that paragraph and write another. This might be another point or some other part of the article. On this night, you may have to start putting these paragraphs more or less in the right location on the page if you’re writing out of sequence. But you’re writing. You didn’t think you had the time, but look how one paragraph after another grows into something substantial. Of course I’ve been talking about writing these paragraphs in the evening, but if you're a morning person of course, write then. Or you could write during a lunch break. In other words, just swap out evening for the time of day that works best for you. Don't Overthink the Paragraph A paragraph may seem like a lot if you haven't written much for a while, but just write any old thought. Don't get all worked up about its artistic merit. Do this enough nights in a row, and before you know it, you’ll have most of a poem, article, essay, or book chapter done. You can save the introduction and conclusion for last,