Remember.

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, the guns fell silent.

Tips and tricks.

Let's be honest. We all experience insecurity and fear about our writing. Everything from "It sucks", to "I suck" and everything in between.

It can paralyze an artist in a quagmire of self-loathing misery. Sometimes, though, it's possible to make a few steps out this nasty, leech-ridden, malaria-infested swamp

I call upon my 'tricks' to make it easier to find a shortcut. Here's few of my favorite tricks in no particular order, in a handy numbered list for quick reference. :)

1. Change writing locations. I'll write in the library, different rooms in the house (I'm writing this now on my second floor landing), a coffee-shop (Starbucks is a cliche for a reason, folks!), or even just go outside. Something about a different visual geography can shake me out of a funk.
2. Bribery is both functional and traditional. One of my critique partners says, "I don't need a lollipop every time I finish five pages." Well, I'm not nearly that mature. I love to bribe myself with hot baths, visits with my friends, a good movie - you name it. I try to avoid bribing myself with food, though. That way lies getting stuck in the different quagmire of body image issues.
3. Ask for help. Somewhere out there, someone believes in you. Give them a call or an email. Say, "I'm going in. Cover me!" For some reason, this works really really well.
4. Set a timer. When I'm exhausted and nearly falling out of my chair, I can fulfill my promises to myself by setting a timer for however long, and then letting myself rest.
5. Read your work aloud. Something about hearing the story usually gets me ready to rock and roll.
   
6. Crank your tunes. Turn that knob to eleven. Let the music drown out all those nasty, self-defeating voices.

What are some of your favorite tricks?

Freakatude.

I will admit it. There is nothing to be ashamed of, for these are enlightened times. We can confess to all our weirdnesses. So I will say it and I will say it loud.

I like to work out.

Please put down the breakable objects. It's really not that strange.

I like to work out for a couple of very simple reasons. First, it makes me feel better. It combats chronic pain and the depressive tendencies of the Pacific Northwest winter.

Second, it means I write better. When I exercise, my body tolerates writing for longer periods of time with no pain. When I exercise, I focus more easily on what I need.

I call my workout "Caring for my Instrument." Painters know they need to clean their brushes to create the images they see in their heads. Carpenters know they can't shape wood with dull tools. Musicians know that poorly tunes saxophones or tubas or violas aren't going to do their careers any favors.

If my sciatic nerve feels like a hot wire thrust down the back of my leg, if my wrists, elbows, shoulders, back, and neck hurt - well, I'd be better off turning off my computer and crawling back under the covers.

And really? Writing is a lot more fun than hiding in bed. :)

How do you care for your instruments?

Sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY!

Somehow, I don't think my monster truck announcer voice translates well into text, but it was worth a shot.

Because I really wanted to say --

Pancakes, PANCAKES, PANCAKES!

My beloved Charming Man is making his world class pancakes for Sunday breakfast.

Sometimes, life is good. :)

Raphael to Foxy Brown: Part Three

You might be wondering why in heavens name I did such oddball stuff last Tuesday. Well, I've learned that the word-creating part of my brain loves the visual arts. The more I immerse myself in art, history, and live performances, the better I write.

So back on the road from High Art to Popular Culture. :)

After I wrote on Tuesday afternoon, I took a break and watched Foxy Brown. I had never seen this movie before.

My first thought is that Pam Grier should be in every movie ever made. What a powerhouse actress! And quite possibly one of the most beautiful women ever.

My second reaction was one of profound discomfort - which is a very good thing. I was too young to be aware of social conditions in the early 1970's. While I remember the trailers for many of the blaxploitation movies, I certainly wasn't old enough to see them. Seeing how racial relations have changed (and haven't) made me determined to make sure that my characters are not white by default.

Will I screw up? Probably. Will I try to do write characters with rich backstory and strong emotions? I will absolutely do my best.

The point of these three posts is simple - a writer grabs inspiration from everything. No one can afford to dismiss any kind expression, because sometimes the 'disposable' arts will bring some of the most profound inspiration.

Raphael to Foxy Brown: Part two

The next exhibit I went to was China Design Now.

There's something wild, energetic, and disorienting about leaving a highly contemplative experience and being plunged into an environment pumping with modern Chinese pop music, color, and unfettered boldness.

Raphael's delicate sfumato technique with its lack of definite lines and serene atmosphere left me feeling very peaceful.

China Design Now with its youthful vigor was like a bracing splash of cold water. Shanghai, Beijing, and Shenzhen are now dominated by a younger population who are curious, mischievous, and fearless.

The museum showed graphic design from CD labels, animation, and prints exploring the nature of Chinese calligraphy to radical architecture ideas, haute couture (which I fell madly in love with. Chinese haute couture is wonderful!), music, and movie making.

Color, line, and the reality of living in some of the most crowded cities in the world shoved me out of my complacent calmness and into thinking about a global identity. Problem solving is a major goal of mine. I left Raphael with admiration for his technique and his ability to create delicate emotions.

I left China Design Now ready to give my best to the social problems of today.

Which is the better art? And does it matter?