by Theresa Garee | Jun 4, 2018 | Blog
“I’ve always considered myself to be just average talent and what I have is a ridiculous insane obsessiveness for practice and preparation.” – Will Smith
I’m currently listening to Racing the Rain by John L. Parker. In one scene, young Quenton Cassidy, the main character, learns basketball tips from a famous one-on-one player. The professional gives Quenton the ball and tells him to take his best shot. As Quenton approaches the basket, the expert crowds Quenton to the right. He pushes him so far to the right that Quenton eventually must move to the left, his weak side since the boy is right-handed. Then the pro easily steals the ball. After repeated failures, the expert explains that Quenton must practice his weak side. “I see you practicing what you’re already good at,” he says. To become a pro, Quenton must practice his weaknesses until they becomes natural.
I think about this with writing. I too adore things I’m already good at and want to spend all my time “playing” at those. I love the first draft, no outline, staring down the blank page. I love the freedom to write whatever I want, making something from nothing. I also love detailed editing, crafting sentences, and choosing the right word. These are my “right side.”
But I grow the most by working on skills that don’t come naturally. Plotting and outlines are my nemesis. Big picture revision is a struggle. While I don’t practice them for hours the way the basketball pro urged Quenton, I recognize their necessity and feel my resistance when it’s time to pull those tools out of the kit. I wish I could say I just push through, but I don’t. I usually stall a bit. I’m like a horse that doesn’t want to get into the trailer. It takes a carrot or two, but eventually, because I’m well trained, I force myself to study the big picture and puzzle out the plot. Professionals do the hard stuff too. Hopefully, this makes the reading easy.
by Theresa Garee | Oct 4, 2012 | Blog
“Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants you to quit.” – George Sheehan, columnist, cardiologist, running legend
When I woke today, that nasty little voice told me I couldn’t run. I hadn’t run in three days. Two of those days were required rest after a 22-mile run on Saturday. The third was an additional rest day because I had a very minor medical procedure. The voice pressed the issue, but I knew what to do. I thanked it for the information, pulled on running clothes, leashed the dog, and headed out the door.
Next month is National Novel Writing Month, that time when hundreds of thousands of people from all over the world join in a common goal: to write 50,000 words (primarily of fiction) in thirty days. Most of me is excited. I can’t wait to hang out in coffeehouses hammering out words side-by-side with other writers. I also love compulsively updating my wordcount on the NaNoWriMo website. And who doesn’t adore telling their friends about the latest insane plot twist the mind conjured in the writing process.
But as the calendar turned to October and the trees began to show hints of scarlet and orange, that little voice began trying to ruin my fun. “It’s a waste of time. You never finish those books. You should keep working on that other book. You’ll never publish anything if you keep this up.” Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Natalie would call this voice “monkey mind” after the Zen reference to that jumpy, skittery state of mind that tries to distract us from our heart’s desire. I’ll be the first to admit there is some truth in the little nagging voices. But there’s a larger truth I want to remember. Life is very, very, very short. If hammering out 50,000 words during the 30 days of November (that’s a mere 1667 words per day my friends) floats your boat, then by all means do it!
Still, I’m going to keep Dr. Sheehan’s words in mind. While I’m competitive by nature and I’ll be pushing my wordcount as hard as I can, I’m going to try something new. I’m going to challenge myself. Not numerically. I’m not going to try to beat my highest wordcount. Instead, I’m going to plan. You heard it right. I’m going to spend some time during October plotting my strategy. It won’t be elaborate. Don’t mention the word, “outline.” But it will be more structure than the list of semi-related topics or random character traits I usually have by November.
So, fellow Wrimos, ready-to-be Wrimos, or never-to-be Wrimos, I’d love to hear from you. I’m sure some of you are plotters who have a master scheme for your book before the first word is written. How does that work for you? We learned some techniques in MFA school, but I want to hear YOUR version. How do you prepare to write a book? And do you have any wisdom for the new Wrimos? What do they most need to know during October to prepare for the November writing challenge ahead? I look forward to reading your advice.
by Theresa Garee | Dec 3, 2011 | Blog
“Never underestimate the strength of a woman. Never mess with one who runs 13.1 miles just for fun.” – Judi Welsh
National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) 2011 is history. As I wrote last month, I chose to write a novel instead of memoir. It wasn’t my first novel, but it was the most difficult NaNoWriMo of the five I’ve done. I did no planning and I fought for the story every word of the way. In doing so, I learned a few things:
1. Plotting isn’t all bad: I’m a professed panster and yet, plotless this month, I was at my wits’ end to make the story move forward. While I didn’t consciously plan any of my previous books, I’ve always known where each was headed and I knew a few things that would (or did) happen along the way. Going in completely cold was terrifying and threatened to derail me.
2. I am not easily derailed: I did not give up even though I hated the story for almost the entire month and felt like I was wasting my time.
And, most importantly, 3. I was not wasting my time: I know this because I fell back in love with writing. Somewhere in the last year, I’d lost the passion. Writing had become a chore I’d considered giving up. Some of that I attribute to depression, but some of it was just the reality of being a writer. Writing, much like any other work, without passion is drudgery. But this month, doing NaNoWriMo, despite feeling lost and frustrated most of the month, I rediscovered the joy of putting words on the page all the while knowing they were in the wrong order or, more likely, weren’t the right words at all. And that was worth much more than 30 days of agony.
I’ll leave you with my own version of Judi’s quote:
“Never underestimate the strength of a writer. Never mess with one who writes 50,000 words in 30 days just because she can!”
