Writer's Block

Kevin Smith once defined his writer's block as writer's laze.  Sometimes people are just too lazy to write.  I have a book that is on the verge of being finished, yet I lack the ambition to type it.  I have the idea and I am excited about it.  But I'm too tired after work.  And I cannot always force myself to work on it.

Instead, I checked out publishers and agents.  I submitted a query to an agent relatively close to my home.  And I looked at publishers submission guidelines.  I bookmarked a few that I want to know more about.  And once I am done editing my novel, i intent to shop it around a bit.  If nothing comes from it, I'll go through Amazon's Self-publishing.  But ideally, I get it published elsewhere.  There is a lot of marketing that comes before the book is even out.  And marketing through amazon has it's problems.  I have friends and co-workers who read my book but cannot review it because they bought the copies through me.

I've read some comments from my favorite authors on cures for writer's block.  Here's some ideas:

1.  Go for a walk.  The fresh air helps to clear your mind and the exercise gives you more energy.

2.  Take a bath or shower.  This is also where many great ideas have been hatched.

3.  Have a drink.  Even if nothing comes from it, life is better after a drink.

4.  Get inspired by reading or watching a movie.

5.  Open up Microsoft Word and just start typing, even if it's not what you intended to write.

If anyone has any other ideas that have helped them, feel free to comment.  Maybe I'll post an updated list and link your blog :-).

Growing as an Artist

As with any of the arts, there is a question of what it means to grow as an artist.  If you look at ones collection of work, you'll see how they improved or changed over time.  For instance, with music.  Greenday has evolved with each album they put out.  As a writer, I always try to attempt new things.  I've written sonnets, sestinas and abcedarians.  I've written memories, articles, fiction and non-fiction.  I've tried to dabble in romance and comedy.  But I am still drawn to horror.  My childhood is filled with fond memories of witches, vampires and slasher films.

Growing as an artist also means improving your writing.  With each new story, I feel I'm always learning something new.  My latest Jekyll and Hyde themed story is some of my best writing, even though I only have two pages written.  But it's also the slowest I've written because I'm focusing on every word and sentence.

Sometimes I focus on the wording while other times I just want to get the story out and I'll save the wording for the revision period.  In the process of editing my first novel, I am noticing where I can grow as an artist.  I notice when I need to change my sentence structure and when I'm being too cliché.

Anyone who cares about their craft has to continue to develop it.  As good of a writer or singer or painter as one is, you can always improve over time and continue to achieve new greatness.  There are always new techniques you can develop or new styles you can try.

Write about what you do not know

When I was in school, English was always my favorite subject.  But I learned one thing in my college creative writing class that I will never forget.  Our assignment was to write a list of things we knew nothing about.  I choose flying a plane.  And then we had to write a page or a verse on that subject.  Then we put our topics in a hat and got something someone else knew nothing about.  And we had to write another page or verse on that subject.

The point of this exercise was everyone always tells you to write about what you know.  My professor said that only limits you.  The wonderful thing about writing is you can create new worlds and live life's you can only imagine.  You can be someone you are not and do things you don't know how to do.  Reality does not have to exist in writing.

A Writing process

When writing, you never know what might give you inspiration.  The stories I am currently working on are about Jekyll and Hyde, witches and the Norse god of fire Loki.  I know the general topics and characters, but I do not know where I am going with any of them.  Most of the time, I have the ending in mind before I begin.

It was easy to be a writer in college.  We were given assignments and deadlines.  I could write memoirs, fiction, non-fiction, fixed-form and free verse poetry.  I did what was assigned.  Since graduating, I have not been able to motivate myself to expand my writings.  In the past three years, I have written one novel and only a handful of stories all involving the same recurring characters.

After I finish my latest short story collection, "Case Closed", I am going to attempt writing at least one flash fiction story a week.  Of course, I'll still be working on my novella "Another World" in the process.  I personally find myself always writing but usually in a diary, a text message or Facebook statuses as opposed productive writing.

I advice anyone reading this to set up some goals for their own writing careers.  Stephen King said he writes 2,000 words a day.  When you have a job or school or children, it's hard to commit to meeting deadlines, but a few pages a week can fit into anyone's schedule.

Suicide note, a short story

Detective Riley O’Conner and his partner Patrick McManus were walking through the old cottage.  The smell of death lingered in the air. It was Halloween night, and Riley and Patrick were on their way to Salem to have some drinks, but instead they were investigating a missing person report. A neighbor phoned the police when Jason Pierson stopped going to work. The architect was supposed to be finishing remodeling a neighbor’s kitchen.  His mail was piling up, and no one recalled seeing him since the morning of October 18^th.

“Patrick, over here,” called Riley as he entered the bedroom and saw the blood splatter on the wall. They slowly walked over to Mr. Pierson’s body on the bed. The dried blood from his head indicated that he’d been there for a while.  The 38-revolver still in his hand pointed towards suicide, but as detectives it was their job to piece together what happened without insinuating.

“Think it was suicide?” asked Patrick as he started bagging and tagging.

            “If you start with certainties, you’ll end up with doubt,” replied Riley.  It was their captain’s cliché to not make assumptions before gathering the facts.

Patrick noticed the New York Yankee posters on the wall as he looked around. “Maybe he was tired of being a Yankee fan in Boston.”

“With the way the Yankees collapsed this Post Season, I could see a fan contemplating suicide,” quipped Riley. “Should I write that thought in the report?”

“I don’t think the captain would appreciate that…  Hey, what’s that on the table?” asked Patrick. He pointed to what he thought was going to be the suicide note.

“Oh, my god,” spoke Riley after reading it, “We’ve got to take this to the captain immediately.”

“Let me see it,” called Patrick with his hand out.  He read the note as he followed Riley out the door.

Riley and Patrick jumped into Riley’s jet black Dodge Stealth and speed off as Patrick cranked up the music and sang along to Black Sabbath’s “NIB.” The rock music helped clear the detectives’ heads. Riley and Patrick were like two peas in a pod; both were sports fans and rock fans. Both of them lived on the edge. Riley was from Southie where he had to be tough to survive. Despite his baby face, he still looked hard with his muscles and Celtic tattoos, and he liked to gamble and drink, but what most people don’t know is that Riley took in every stray cat he saw.  He wanted to be a detective just like his father.

Patrick, on the other hand, didn’t want to be a detective. Born in Marblehead, he was a boxer and a pitcher until he dislocated his shoulder. While he was injured, his little sister vanished, and Patrick made it his life’s mission to find her. Patrick gave up his dream of being a pitcher for the Boston Red Sox but still had season tickets and the B tattoos on his forearm.  Until he met Riley, his job was his life.  Riley helped him see that he could leave the work at the office before it drove him completely insane.

Riley pulled into the police station and jumped out of the car with the suicide note in his hand. Patrick ran behind him into the captain’s office.

“Captain Sullivan, you have to take a look at this,” spoke Riley.

            Pierson’s suicide note read, “I never imagined killing myself, but I couldn’t turn myself in. Death is a better alternative to jail, and I can’t live with the guilt eating away at me. I must confess my sins and pray for forgiveness. Late one night I was walking home on Beacon Hill when I saw this blonde haired girl who took my breath away. She walked into her old apartment on the first floor, and I knocked on the door. I told her I had an accident and asked her if I could use her phone. When I got inside I noticed a knife on the counter. With the knife in hand, I forced her into her bedroom and cut her shirt off. I tied her to the bed with the remains of her shirt. I used her stalking as a gag and raped her. But something came over me; I saw the devil in her. I used the knife to carve a cross into her stomach to save her soul then proceeded to slit her throat. I covered her with a sheet before leaving. Even writing this, I feel sick but I still have more to confess to. The next day, I saw two beautiful teenage girls walking near the Old North Church. They must have been coming home from a club. I remember the dresses. The fatter girl wore a little black skimpy dress; her name was Joanna. Her friend wore a light pink evening gown. They looked like Barbie dolls. I wanted to take them home and play with them. Instead I took out a dagger and forced them behind the church. First I stabbed the girl in pink in the stomach as Joanna started to run. I followed behind her and pushed her to the ground. I stabbed her in the back a few times before turning her over and carving the cross into her stomach. Her friend was still there, dying, but I didn’t want her to suffer, so I put her out of her misery by slitting her throat. And yes, I carved a cross into her stomach. I’m sorry.”

            “Do you know anything about those murders boss?” asked Patrick when Captain Sullivan finished reading the note.

            “No, but check it out. I want the two of you to go to the church first,” demanded the captain.

            “We’re on it boss,” spoke Riley as they ran out the door. The two detectives ran back to Riley’s Dodge Stealth.  Riley drove towards the Old North Church as Patrick changed the CD and put on Iron Butterfly. Riley and Patrick exchanged glances as Riley speeded up; he liked any excuse to ignore speed limits.

            Patrick jumped out of the car before Riley killed the engine. Riley ran after him to the back of the church, and at first they thought maybe the note was bluffing. Until they saw the blood in the blonde tangled hair as they got closer to the church. Patrick called the captain and requested backup. Riley and Patrick decided not to hang around; they headed for Beacon Hill.

            Riley didn’t really know what to look for; it’s not like he drew them a map, but he saw an open door in an old apartment and his heart sank. He knew they found the crime scene.

            “What do we do in a crime scene when we know who the killer is?” asked Patrick. He didn’t want to tag and bag because what was the point? The note had the details of the crimes; they just had to make sure the medical examiner confirmed the details.

            “I’ll call Conner,” said Riley, referring of the medical examiner.

            “Want to grab a drink?” asked Patrick when Riley hung up. He had seen enough.

            “Beer Works?” asked Riley, “The Bruins are playing.”

            The Beer Works was filled with Bruins Jerseys and beer drinkers surrounding the televisions. Even on Halloween, the fans of Boston only dressed up in their team colors. Riley and Patrick ordered some Black and Tans and watched the hockey game together.

***

            Ring. Ring. Ring. “Who the hell is calling?” spoke a hung-over Riley. It was barely 5 a.m. and his cell phone was ringing. “Hello?”

            “It’s Patrick. Get up. Conner said he needs to see us. Something didn’t match in the autopsies.” Riley grabbed his jeans and a Patriots jersey and threw them on. He quickly brushed his teeth and drove to Patrick’s penthouse.

            “What the hell do you mean something didn’t match? Did Pierson not murder them?” asked Riley.

            “I don’t know, Conner wouldn’t tell me over the phone,” said Patrick.

            “You look like hell by the way,” quipped Riley. Patrick still had on the clothes from the night before, and his hair looked oily with gel he had put in the day before.

            “Thanks, bitch,” answered Patrick.

            “Love you,” joked Riley. Patrick ignored him as Riley flashed his typical playboy smile. Riley and Patrick walked into the station and made some coffee before going in to see Conner.

            “Sit down,” spoke Conner in a somber voice.

            “What’s the matter? Did Pierson lie?” asked Riley.

            “I read his suicide note. Then I examined the bodies. Pierson knew every detail of the murders,” starter Conner.

            “So what’s the problem?” interrupted Patrick. “Did the forensics place someone else at the scene?”

            “I was getting to that. The details were correct, but there is still a problem. Pierson died on the 19^th.  But the time of death on the murder at Beacon Hill happened on the 26^th and the Old Church murders on the 27^th” spoke Conner.

            “That can’t be right,” spoke Riley.

            “Joanna was at the club on the 27^th. The bouncer recognized her and the security cameras show her,” spoke the captain as he walked in.

            “Then his time of death is wrong,” answered Patrick.

            “Science doesn’t lie,” said Conner quietly. “And before you suggest that maybe he had someone else do it after he died, his hair was found on the body at the apartment. And his knife with Joanna’s blood was found at his apartment near the suicide note.”

            “But then… How did he confess to murders that didn’t happen until after he died?” asked Patrick.

“How does a dead guy murder three people?” asked Riley. Riley and Patrick exchanged looks and read over the suicide note again. 

Spending money to make money

The term investing in your career comes to mind today.  I see a lot of contests that are pay to play.  There are also publishers that charge to review work including many consumer magazines.  I'm not opposed to the idea, but I do think you need to do your research first before sending anyone a check.  If it's for a contest, check the previous winners writings.  If it's for a magazine or publisher, check to make sure they publish work that is like yours.  And then decide if it is worth the risk.  Is the entrance fee affordable?  Do you believe in what you are submitting?  What are the odds?  And if you win, what do you get?

I am considering submitting my writings to a contest with an entrance fee that guarantees my work will be read.  But first I want to have multiple options of stories to choose from.  And I want to see that it is a good fit for my writing.

It's also a good marketing strategy to win contests that will publish your work on their website.  Publicity often helps.  That's why even unpaid places that publish can benefit your career and increase your audience.  That's how I went about publishing my poem "The Tattoo."  Of course that was before I learned how important online presence is and did not use that as an opportunity to link my blog or website or twitter account.  Growing an audience is essential to becoming a writer.

Writer's market

The hardest part about wanting to be a writer is finding the right agent and publisher for your work.  I invested in a copy of "Writer's Market."  The book is two major drawbacks: the publishing companies mentioned often go out of business before the year is up making the book outdated before it even hits the market and the descriptions on guidelines and what the publishers are looking for rarely match what is on the publishers website.

The valuable information I received from the aforementioned book is how little publishers actually publish material.  Most of the publishers listed publish one or two books a year.  And they receive thousands of manuscripts and even more queries.  The more famous publishers won't look at unsolicited manuscripts or queries.  Most want agented material.  And most agents won't represent authors who have not been previously published.

This leaves most writers unpublished or having to go through self-publishing.  Occasionally, writers'  make a successful career out of self-publishing.  The problem is when you have a job and bills to pay, you cannot invest countless hours marketing your books.  Reading the marketing strategies, most take place before the book comes out.  Finding a famous author to endorse your work.  Having the local newspaper write a piece on the authors up and coming book.  The ones after involve having websites list your book and hoping that people want to spend the money on a no-name author.  The problem is that most of those sites want books that have already been reviewed by at list 5 people on amazon.  If you've been published through amazon, only people who have bought your book through them can write a review.  And the problem with that, as I'm sure other people have seen, is that most of your friends and family wish to buy the book directly from the author (Usually requesting a signed book).  So if the author buys all the copies, only the author can write the review which no one would take seriously.

Making it in the writers world is a daunting task.  The Writer's Market book encouraged people to get a job writing for newspapers to grow their audience.  Newspapers are finding it difficult to hire anyone in todays economy, especially seeing how many people get their news online or via television.  I should know, I majored in journalism originally hoping that I could be a reporter.  When I transferred my major changed to communication studies with an emphasis on public relations.  PR is a lot of marketing.  That would imply that I should have a good marketing strategy for my books.  The only strategy I am aware of is mailing countless manuscripts and queries to agents, publishers and authors asking for endorsements.  But that requires both time and money which after paying for a four-year college, I don't have a lot of when I'm working for minimum wage.

Self-publishing

At the young age of seventeen, I was excitedly awaiting my book “Origin of the Rose" to come into publication. Unfortunately, I did not do my research and got sucked into Publish America. Unknowingly, I choose the same avenue for my second book “Box Score of Violence." After learning more about the industry, I turned to Amazon’s Self Publishing with a book that I co-wrote with my mother. Now, fresh out of college, I completed my first novel. Instead of taking the same route, I am trying to go through the traditional channels. I am going to send my book to agents, publishers and maybe even authors to ask for endorsements.

I am starting this blog as I begin this new journey in my life. Perhaps, I just want to document my progress including my inevitable failures and rejections. Or more than likely, I am hear to meet fellow authors, receive advice and exchange any information that may be helpful for other aspiring writers who are beginning their journeys as well.