Writing is not just writing.

. My dance classes give me grace, and style, and free my creative spirit.

The books I read open up whole new worlds for me.

My acting class shows me how words on a page are utterly transformed when spoken.

The places I visit give me settings for my tales.

My hours at the gym occupy my restless body, so setting my mind free to roam.

The dreary journeys on the bus force me to dream.

My internet surfing tell me fascinating things I never knew – and spark the story.

The movies I watch move and inspire me.

My dull dull work fuels my burning desire to escape into my story world.

Every action, every step, every thought goes towards a story.

My disappointments transform into tears on page, writing my broken heart out.

My joys lend my pen wings, as I sweep across the page, creating my own world.

Even when I’m not writing, I’m writing.

Managing doubt

I’m not writing, I’m not editing and I’m definitely not querying. 

I knew I was blocked but why?  This past weekend during an e-mail conversation with my blog sistas I found the culprit.

SELF DOUBT. 

Boring, pedestrian and overdone I know, but unfortunately very real and true for me. 

At some point, this insidious weed has taken hold of my creativity, my drive and my courage and strangled them into submission.

I’m going to share some of my private conversations in the hope that it will help others recognise self-doubt. 

Creativity: Let’s go do some editing.

Self Doubt:  It’s too hard.

Creativity:  Ok, let’s go write a blog entry then.

Self Doubt:  What are you going to blog about?  You haven’t done anything that resembles writing lately. 

Creativity: *Feels slightly panicked*

Self Doubt: Let’s wait til we’re ‘working’ again or until we have a publisher….or at least an agent.  Agent/publisher/published – that’s the only way to be sure that you have anything worth listening to and that your writing is any good. 

Creativity: Are you saying my writing might not any good?

Self Doubt:  Your writing is unsophisticated and really isn’t all that good.  I didn’t want to be the one to tell you but I think it’s my job.

Creativity:  Oh no.  I was afraid of that.

Self Doubt:   I Know.  *Raises eyebrows and pulls lips into a thin line*

Creativity: I can’t believe I ever thought I could be good at this.  How embarrassing…I’m so disappointed.  For a while there I really thought this writing thing was for me.  *sigh*.

Self Doubt: Lots of people think that – it never works out.  Don’t worry though, I’ll always be here with you.  Hey, let’s go and see what other people are doing on Facebook and then we can lay on the lounge and watch TV.             ….and we need to have a chat about your hair…..

Creativity: *Swallows lump in her throat, lowers her head and follows Self Doubt to Facebook*.

This conversation happens hundreds of times in hundreds of different ways but inevitably ends in me trawling through E-Bay looking for some item that will make all the difference (…difference to what, i’m not sure), or logging onto Facebook or laying down on the lounge watching TV. 

I know that this sounds like an obvious case of self-doubt when it’s written here in black and white but at the time the assertions made by my self-doubt sound reasonable and completely credible.  

It makes me want to scream. 

I’m not saying that this post will cure my self-doubt.  But awareness and acceptance will probably be the first steps in overriding it.

I wonder if any of you can relate or share tips for overcoming this type of doubt?

Creative Promo by Christine Duncan

I used to do a bit of promo for other writers through Breakthrough Promotions. I found the job interesting because, I have no problem singing the praises of other writers.

A little trick I learned there is that you can use promotion to get more. For instance, if a writer had a radio interview somewhere, it was standard procedure to call bookstores in the area to tell them about the radio interview and ask about a possible book signing at their store. The implied promise, of course, (or sometimes the flat out statement) was that their store would be mentioned on the radio. It worked! Most of the time anyway.

I’ve been doing things similar to that since Safe House came out about a month ago–or trying to. For instance, my publisher was very busy all spring and summer and couldn’t give me a definite date when the book would be out. Consequently I could not even begin to arrange book signings until I had the book in my hand–literally.

This is very bad because when you are published, as I am, with a small press, booksignings are a way to get the store to carry your books. But signings usually have to be arranged months in advance so that the store can put the info in their flyer and advertise other ways.

So, without any advance arrangements for signings, I was afraid no one would carry the books. But when I got the interview with the local paper, I called my local Barnes and Noble (who had already turned me down on the signing) and told them about it. They immediately ordered the book, on the promise that I would mention it was there in the interview–which I did. One problem solved.

Tell me how you got creative with promotion. What did you do that helped you?

Makes me really angry

. Something that really riles me, as I try to get published, is the celebrity novel. You know, the book written by someone famous for something other than writing.

There are good celebrity novels. The ones written by Hugh Laurie, Stephen Fry and Charlie Higson, for example, are exceptionally good. But, to be fair, they did write before they famous, and they wrote a lot of their own material on their way up to the top.

And then of course, there’s Dick Francis, who started off as a jockey, and turned into a damn good thriller writer.

But then there’s Katie Price’s books (aka Jordan). Famous for not much more than stripping off a lot, and having a lurid private life, her books got onto the best seller lists. And no, they’re not good. They’re very very bad.

In France, a newsreader wrote a novel. It sold very well, and got good reviews. Then someone else copied the manuscript, changed the first two sentences and the title, and tried to sell it to a publisher. It didn’t get any interest. The hoaxer said this proved the original book had sold on the famous name of its author alone, and had nothing to do with merit.

It’s annoying, to try and sell a book that I truly believe is pretty good (British understatement, for non-British readers. That’s British language for ‘I think it’s fantastic!’) and fail, when bad books by famous authors are snapped up.

But I do have a consolation. Katie Price’s books, and all those other celebrity will only ever be judged on their name alone. When I am published, I will be judged solely on my merit. I hope the judgment will reflect well on me.

Do You Share? by Christine Duncan

Okay, that interview I wrote about a couple of weeks back? Postponed due to illness–mine. I don’t know what that was–it wasn’t flu but it was nasty. So I finally did the interview this past week. And came up with a curious question for all of you.
The interviewer asked me who she could talk to about my books. Now aside from some writing friends spread around the country now (and my publisher and ocassionally you guys.) there is N-O body she could talk to about my books. The reason? Shrug. I just don’t.
Talk about them, I mean. Not to my (non-writing) friends, not to the people I attend church with, not even to my husband and kids.
Some part of me is probably afraid that I will somehow leak some of the power out of the story. Heck, I don’t know.
Some of my friends and the people I work with, don’t even know that I write. I know, I know. I’m supposed to talk it up–promote. But it’s just too awkward, too personal. And so I don’t.
Turns out the interviewer was pretty much the same. She doesn’t talk about her writing either. If someone asks, she tells them to wait and see how it comes out.
So I’m definitely curious. How many of you are like this? Do you talk about what you’re writing? Do you go into detail? Tell me!

The ‘Oh crap’ moment

. My favourite part, both when I’m writing and reading, is what I call the ‘Oh Crap!’ moment. The perfect example, as in so many cases, is Shakespeare. Specifically, Macbeth. Macbeth and Macduff are fighting. Macduff is struggling, and Macbeth is confident, gloating, arrogant. There is the following dialogue.

MACBETH 
Thou losest labour:
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air
With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,
To one of woman born.
MACDUFF 
Despair thy charm;
And let the angel whom thou still hast served
Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother’s womb
Untimely ripp’d

You can practically hear Macbeth, in modern parlance, thinking ‘Oh crap. I’m dead’. From that moment on, he loses heart and faith. Macduff becomes the stronger, and Macbeth is no longer the powerful chosen one.

And that’s the Oh Crap moment. The moment when suddenly everything changes, and everything gets a bit darker. It’s no longer. The hero is no longer immortal. Things are not what they seem.

Another brilliant example is in Harry Potter and The Goblet Of Fire. It’s the moment when Cedric and Harry grab the Portkey and end up in the graveyard. Voldemort rises from the dead, and says ‘Kill the spare’ – and Cedric is killed. And suddenly, everything changes. Harry and his friends are no longer a bunch of plucky, sparky kids, outwitting a shadowy bad guy. The bad guy is back from the dead, they’re going to lose this time, and from now on, good people are going to start dying. Everything has changed, everything as become very dark, nothing is certain any more.

It’s not always easy to write – both because it’s difficult to force, and because sometimes its easy to let the story go on in it’s old, familiar, predictable way. It’s not always easy to spot. Sometimes you don’t realise everything has changed until long after it’s changed. But it’s always the part of the story that gives me a little shiver down my back, makes me grip the book tighter (or lean further into the screen) and breath a little faster.

October Reminder by Christine Duncan

I woke up this morning to discover that not only is summer over, but it’s the middle of October. I think it was the snow on the ground that really confirmed it for me. It wasn’t much snow, mind you, but then again, it’s not winter yet.

Anyway, it served as a reminder for me to tell you that it is Domestic Violence Awareness month here in the good old USA. So please, consider donating money, time or if they want them, your gently used items to your local shelter. There really aren’t enough shelters to go around and they are all grateful for what you can give them.

Recently, as I was researching a piece I was doing, I called NCADV to try to verify a statistic I keep stumbling across on the internet. What I wanted to know simply is–is it true that there are more animal shelters in the U.S. than domestic violence shelters. The woman on the phone painstakingly took me through it. We went to the humane society’s statistics on our respective computers then we went and explored the statistics for domestic violence shelters. I don’t have the number before me to impress you but the short answer is yes. There are more animal shelters here in the U.S. than domestic violence shelters.

Does anyone else find that as shocking as I do?

We need more shelters. And for that, we need more help. Please, prayerfully consider it.

And to bring this back to the topic of this blog–writing–I want to say that sometimes you have nothing to give. No money, no time, nothing extra. That’s okay. Do what I just did.

Writers, that means I’m challenging you to write about Domestic Violence Awareness month on your blog or Facebook or where ever you can. Spread the word–however you can. Even just a short word of reminder will help.

The Poet

. I know, I know, I’m so sorry I’m late – there was a drama class, then a trip into London…

Anyway – this week was National Poetry Week,in the UK, I believe. The news decided to mark this occasion by interviewing someone who’d won Young Poet of the Year, or some such prize, three times in a row. They filmed him reading his own poem – but talked all over the top of it, so no-one could hear it.

There was a series of programmes on recently when celebrities ‘declaimed’ their favourite poems whilst wondering over scenic spots, or some such accompaniment. It’s almost as if the Powers That Be daren’t allow us to just read poetry – it has to be read to us, often badly, and accompanied by something – anything visual.

Personally, I love poetry. From the intricate lines of Shakespeare’s sonnets, though Tennyson’s deep emotionalism, to Philip Larkin’s trick of expressing exactly what I feel in a more concise and perfect way, I love poetry. But it’s a private love. I don’t need it read to me. I don’t need swelling music in the background. I don’t need anything for my eyes to focus on but the page. Poetry is at it’s best when it’s just the reader and the words. That’s when it touches you deepest.

I can’t write poetry. I’ve tried. I can pretty much turn my hand to almost any style of writing, and produce something competent, if not brilliant. But poetry utterly defeats me. No matter what style I write, I cannot produce a poem. My prose is fairly poetical, but my poetry – well, lets just say it gives the Vogons a run for their money. (For you non-Hitchhiker fans – that means it’s very very very bad).

I wish I could. But I suppose I’ll have to be content with the words of those magical people who really can write a poem.

What Do You Take to Interviews? by Christine Duncan

I have an interview on Monday (when you may be reading this post) with a local newspaper. No, not for a job, although I need one. It’s to promote Safe House’s release. It’s been a while since I have done anything like this. And I’m nervous.
Okay, I’m really nervous. But I have a trick that I use for these sort of situations. I tell myself that I only have to be uncomfortable for a certain period of time–in this case an hour. Somehow it seems more doable. After all, you can do just about anything–short of real physical torture (dentist not excepted) for an hour. So I talk myself into these things.
But that doesn’t mean I know what exactly to take to these things. I know what I’ll talk about. I always talk about the reasons I write the books. That makes me more comfortable. But what do you take?
The paper will do a picture. I sent my press kit. I know enough to bring my books. But what else?
So I’m asking you. so Next time I’m more prepared. What do you take to interviews? And how do you get yourself through them?

As someone else once said…

. This week, I shall leave the words to far better writers than I.

Samuel Johnson:Read over your compositions, and whenever you meet with a passage that you think is particularly fine, strike it out.

Katherine Mansfield: I’m a writer first and a woman after.

Algernon Charles Swinburne: Th’ artillery of words

Algernon Charles Swinburne: Then, rising with Aurora’s light, The Muse invoked, sat down to write, blot out, correct, insert, refine, enlarge, diminish, interline.

John Sheffield: Learn to write well, or not to write at all.

Jonathan Swift: Proper words in proper places, make the true definition of a style.

F. Scott Fitzgerald: An author ought to write for the youth of his own generation, the critics of the next and the schoolmasters of ever after.

John Gay: Envy’s a sharper spur than pay. No author ever spared a brother, wits are gamecocks to one another.

Jane Austen: Pictures of perfection as you know make me sick and wicked.

Charlotte Bronte: We only suffer reality to suggest, ever to dictate.

Pliny: There is no book so bad that some good cannot be got out of it.

Terentianus Maurus: The reader’s fancy makes the fate of books.

And finally – the divine Dorothy Parker: If, with the literate, I am impelled to try an epigram, I never seek to take the credit; we all assume that Oscar said it.