What Does The Power Club Have to do with Poetry?

Photo by Morning Brew on Unsplash

 . . . well, not much. But all writers should write a variety of things, so I've been exploring my poetic side of late.

Poetry is a very different form of writing than fiction. Whereas a short story or novel can go on for pages describing and explaining what happens. poetry tends to be short, to the point, and more oblique. Poets try to capture a mood or a feeling or an experience and condense it down into a few words. Some poems can be more straightforward and long, but it's been my experience that poetry exercises a different part of the brain than fiction--it stimulates our capacity to create images and derive meaning from them. In this way, poetry seems, to me, at least, to be a close cousin of art.

(And no, I'm not an expert on brains or even poetry, so don't hold me to the above.)

I've published several poems on Medium.com. Here is a link to one called REM Diner. Check it out and let me know what you think. 

The Dirty D-Word of Writing

Imagine this: You’re hard at work on your story when a new idea jumps into your head, an idea which takes your new project in a whole new direction. Or an idea for a new project altogether. 

You can’t wait to see where this exciting new idea takes you.  It may even be The One which makes all your dreams come true.

So you stop what you’re working on and dive right in—only to find your new idea's tank has no water.  Or, worse, yet another new idea comes along and steals you away—again.

Ideas are wonderful, but writers who chase ideas risk derailing their projects or never finishing them.

That’s why writers need the dirty D-word—discipline.

If you’re like me, the word discipline conjures negative images of teachers standing over you with rulers, refusing to let you go to recess until you’ve learned your ABC’s.

And that’s unfortunate. Discipline is an indispensable tool for writers. 

Discipline means

•                 you stay focused
•                 you finish the project at hand
•                 you refuse to get sidelined by other projects or concerns
•                 you believe in yourself and your work.

And that’s it. That’s really all discipline entails.

Sure, discipline may include setting a particular time and place to write or observing other rituals. But rituals vary from writer to writer and don’t have to be boring. (My blogging ritual, for example, involves walking to a certain restaurant and writing while eating a good breakfast. But I’m flexible—I do this on either Friday or Saturday.)

Discipline means you say no to your inner child (or inner dreamer or inner critic or whatever metaphor works for you). It’s okay. Your inner child can take it. She may scream and holler and pitch a fit, but she’ll get over it. And she’ll be better equipped to come up with ideas you can use once she realizes you’re serious.

Discipline means you trust the good ideas—the really good ones—won’t get away.  Ideas are like falling in love. The really good ones stick in the back of your mind after the initial excitement wears off.

Discipline means you do the hard work. Let’s face it: Writing is hard. I know, I know . . .writing is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be the thing we do so we don’t have to go out and get real jobs.

But if you hold fast to that attitude, you’ll never do any hard work—at least not without a fast food manager looking over your shoulder.

In writing, discipline means you get to be both manager and employee—but you have to be tough in each role.

Discipline means you finish what you started. Your project doesn’t seem feasible now? It entails tasks you never thought of (such as research, marketing, cover design)? You’ve got so many things going on—children to feed, bills to pay, laundry?

So what? So does every writer who’s ever “made it”. (Read Stephen King’s On Writing or Rick Bragg’s All Over but the Shoutin’ for first-hand accounts of their struggles to write for a living.)

And your struggle to finish what you started can be a good thing. Overcoming distractions and meeting challenges which lead to growth are what most stories are about. Your personal struggles give you something to write about or add authenticity to what you’ve already written.

Discipline, in other words, helps you do two things: 1) know when an idea is worth pursuing, and 2) realize it.

So, go ahead. Use the dirty D-word. Pass it on.

 How do you discipline yourself as a writer?

Murder Your Words: Be Ruthless in Revision

This is a photo taken of a peer revision comment from a writing class. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In his seminal book On Writing, Stephen King advised writers to “kill your darlings.”  A variation I’ve heard is “Murder your children.”

No, we’re not talking about a crime that will land you 25 to life. We’re talking about being utterly ruthless in revising and editing your work.

Any piece of writing becomes the writer’s child: You conceived it, you gave birth to it, you nurtured, clothed and fed it, and you will one day send it out into the world to make you proud. 

But, as any parent knows, sometimes children don’t turn out so well. Good parents, of course, love their children anyway.

Writing, however, is not something you should accept as-is.  Mediocrity breeds antipathy in readers. If you’re not excited about your work, how can you expect the reader to be?

That’s why writers have to become murderers—murderers of their own words.

Sounds extreme?

It is.

I learned this lesson anew when I recently went back and re-read some of the earlier chapters of my novel-in-progress, The Power Club™. The story I had slaved over for months was good—but just good.

Writers, your new mantra: “Good enough is never good enough.”

So I wrote a new version of Chapter 1 and sent it out to my critiquing group. They raved over the improvements, but one member suggested even more drastic changes: cutting out the entire first half of the chapter, beginning the story with the mid chapter break, and filling in the previous information as needed.

My initial reaction?

Drat! More work. I thought this book was finished. I thought this writing gig was supposed to be easy . . .

No, I’m not being hypocritical. Although I said in a previous post that writing never gets easier, it’s perfectly human to have such thoughts. Besides, I didn’t ignore his advice. I gave his suggestion a shot, and I think he’s right:  the new beginning improves the story dramatically. 

Of course, this means other revisions have to be made . . .

But the bottom line is this: I want a book that’s going to set the world on fire, not wallow on the shelves and beg readers to pick it up. Experience has taught me that I don’t remember the struggles that led to self-improvement. What I remember instead are the feelings of pride and accomplshment. What I gain through the effort is self-confidence.

So, go ahead: Murder your words. Killing them makes you and your book stronger.

Related articles

• Revision (emergingwriters.typepad.com)
• Just One More Page, and Then I'll go to Bed (hugs-and-chocolate.com)
• Making Your Revisions Count (theweekendwriter.wordpress.com)
• Write Now and Revise Later, or Right Now, Revise? (theweekendwriter.wordpress.com)

5 Tips for Dealing with That Difficult Reader

Image by aramolara via Flickr

When people read your story and tell you it's wonderful, they make you feel like you're soaring through the stratosphere.  But then THAT reader comes along.

You know THAT reader.  He's the one who tells you your story is good, BUT . . .  Or she listens patiently while you explain some aspect of your story and then trips you up with your own words.  ("That's not what I got out of your story!")

Sometimes, THAT reader does it to be mean.  More often, though, he genuinely cares about your story and is perplexed by something — something which didn't ring true to him or which left him confused about a character's motivation.  Sometimes, his questions feel like an interrogation and make you want to lawyer up. ("I'm not saying anything further until my character seeks counsel!")

So, how do you deal with THAT reader?

For me, I start by reminding myself that I don't have to win every argument.  I don't even have to participate in every argument put before me.

This simple technique can help you, as an author, preserve your sanity.  It acknowledges that everything you write reflects your opinions, views, and ideas.  These things come from deep within you and were formed by some combination of your life experiences, beliefs, values, assumptions, and even prejudices — all of which are unique to you.  This means your ideas can be flawed, even though you may not be aware of it.

But the reader also has his own ideas, which come from his own life experiences, etc., and may also be flawed.  Perhaps this is why he reacted so oddly to your story.  Or perhaps his ideas — and yours — aren't really flawed.  Perhaps they're just different.

As the author, your options when confronted by THAT reader are few.  You can attempt to set her straight by arguing your point of view.  You can dismiss her opinions as belonging to someone who just didn't "get it."

Or you can adopt a different attitude by following these tips:

1. Respect the reader's intent.  Particularly if the reader is a peer editor or beta reader, all feedback is good.

2. Listen with your mind blank.  This is difficult to do when we feel our work is being attacked.  Our normal response is to become defensive and start formulating a rebuttal.  But if we're focusing on what we're going to say, we are probably missing or misunderstanding what the reader is saying.  This means we may overlook a suggestion or insight which can improve the story.

3. Choose not to see the reader's comments as an attack.  Again, this is difficult, particularly if the reader comes across as an attacker or interrogator.  However, you are always in control of how you respond.

4. Smile and nod.  Affirmative body language does not have to mean you agree with the reader; it can mean you understand what he is saying.

5. After your emotions have died down, carefully consider the content — not the presentation — of the reader's words.  

• Content is the substance of what is being said ("The ending of your story lacks dramatic punch").
• Presentation is the delivery of the content ("How could you take me on this wonderful ride and leave me hanging???").

Separating content from presentation helps you see where the reader may have a point.  It also helps you avoid the feeling that she is winning and you are losing.

Dealing with THAT reader can be uncomfortable, but buried deep within his seemingly hurtful questions and comments may be nuggets of wisdom.  Getting to those nuggets takes patience and a willingness to put our own egos aside.   However, anything that helps us improve as writers is worth the effort.

Related articles

• The Power of Criticism (jhardyb.wordpress.com)
• Writing Tips Wednesday - Accepting Criticism (davefarmersblog.wordpress.com)