Why You Should Join National Novel Writing Month

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

As the last ghostly trails of October slither away on Halloween night, November—and the real terror— begins.

That is, if you’re a writer.

November is National Novel Writing Month, otherwise known as NaNoWriMo, and like any scary story worth its salt, the online writing project is an anxiety inducing mix of horror and excitement. Attempting to write 50,000 words in one month? Terrifying. Watching your stats rise on the bar graph with each word count update? Definitely a thrill.

Whether you’ve been feverishly plotting your book in preparation or warily side-eyeing every NaNoWriMo reference in your social media feeds, you should absolutely join. It costs nothing yet offers a wealth of support, positive energy, and useful resources. And if you’re under 18, or teach those who are, the Young Writers Program provides a safe and encouraging space dedicated to children and young adults.

There are plenty of naysayers out there who will point out that attempting to write that many words in one month is crazy, it will all turn out to be crap and a colossal waste of time, but writing is never a waste of time, and if that doesn’t convince you, I’ll let you in on a little secret …

NaNoWriMo is not really about writing 50,000 words in a month. It’s about committing to a project and writing fast enough to outrun self-doubt. This is essential; you can’t write slowly and edit as you go with a novel. With short stories, sure. But a novel is too big; once you start looking back it overwhelms you. Plow through the first draft and get the story down. Fine-tuning comes later (much later).

Also! Writing is supposed to be fun and plunging into the madness that is NaNoWriMo alongside a community of over 400,000 fellow wordsmiths is a blast. Ignore the naysayers and the snarky comments on social media. Maybe they’re right and in the end you won’t use anything you wrote toward a published novel. But guess what? Every minute you spent writing made you a better writer.

What have you got to lose by trying?

Six Years of Blogging

Image from Flickr by Will Clayton

It’s hard for me to believe, but this month marks six years since I started blogging.

I remember nervously hitting publish on that first post, uncomfortable with the idea of broadcasting my thoughts and feelings to a public audience, a reluctance that now seems adorably quaint. Long gone are the days when putting ourselves out there inspired such thrilling anxiety; it’s both a relief and a sad kind of loss.

Back then, my heart aflame with the recent news that my book was to be published the following year, I committed to writing one blog post per week. That ambitious goal lasted approximately three months before I sheepishly conceded defeat.

I am not a fast writer, and despite being repeatedly assured that blog posts are meant to be written in a more casual and conversational style, I just don’t write that way. I decided I’d rather take my time and publish one or two posts per month than fire off one or more per week for the sake of producing content.

And I’m glad. Although I’ve never blogged frequently enough to earn much of a following, when I reread my old posts (six years’ worth!!) I’m proud of what’s there. Each entry was carefully thought out: every title, every picture, every paragraph break, every word—all with you in mind. Because if you’re here and reading, I want you to feel these posts are worth your time.

Hopefully I’ve succeeded. Thank you for sticking around, and in honor of that day six years ago, here’s a link back in time. I had just celebrated my 38th birthday and wrote about everything that was most important to me then, which happens to be the same things that are most important to me now: my family, my writing, and chocolate cake.

Some things never change.

The Everyday Writer

Photo by Mark Duffel on Unsplash

I have never been an everyday writer. There are brief periods of time when I write every day, but when the project is finished or the monthly writing challenge wraps up, I simply stop.

The intention is always to take a short break and then begin again, but sometimes it’s months before I start something new, at which point I write furiously, devoting entire days to my work.

This needs to change, because come August I no longer have the luxury of entire days. When my kids return to school, I will be joining them.

I’ve long wanted a part-time day job but refused to compromise when it comes to my children’s schedules. It’s important to me that I’m available to take them to school, pick them up, and be with them for their holidays off, which include several weeks throughout the school year in addition to summer vacation.

That basically left me one option—get a job with the school district—and finally I found one with the perfect schedule, working four hours a day in student support at an elementary school. I volunteered weekly in the classroom when my kids were younger, and I’ve missed everything about it. I am so excited.

I’m also nervous. Because now my writing time has been slashed from four hours a day to one. Because now there’s no making up for lost time. The only way to produce any reasonable amount of work is to break my pattern of writing in irregular bursts and instead write a little every day.

The idea has its charms. I’ve always pictured the everyday writer as someone who wakes at dawn to steal moments while his family sleeps or visits the same café each morning to fill a page or two before rushing off to her day job.

I treasure sleep, so the former will never be me. However, I can clearly visualize the latter, and with such limited time I believe it’s essential that I write away from home. I even have a coffee shop in mind.

A place free from the lure of laundry, cleaning, and checking email. A place with dim lighting and quiet corners and cheap drip coffee. A place that isn’t quite home but could still become mine—a sanctuary for the everyday writer.

Sharing a Little Love for Lit Mags

Photo by Carolyn V on Unsplash

Not long ago, I pulled up my ever-changing Word document titled “potential markets to submit work.” Scanning the list, I was surprised and saddened at how many literary magazines were no longer options.

The recent shuttering of some, like Glimmer Train and Tin House, came as a shock. Others, like YA Review Net, seemed to slowly fade until finally, quietly, saying goodbye. Yet another, Full Grown People, has been on hiatus since last June, and my fingers are still crossed that their absence remains temporary.

I had the honor of being published in both Full Grown People and YARN, and I long dreamed of seeing my name in print in Glimmer Train and Tin House. Yet beyond submitting to these publications, I faithfully read them throughout the years, and their loss affects me more as a reader than as a writer. This is important—far too many writers read only for market research.

We need to do more to support our literary magazines. While it’s true that not all of them close due to lack of finances or readership, the majority probably do. I contribute to the tip jar of my favorite lit mags when I can, commit to paid subscriptions for others, and occasionally pay entry fees for contests, but for those who can’t afford to offer monetary support, simply reading and sharing does wonders.

On that note, here are a few favorites I’d like to share with you.

Brevity
The gold standard for flash creative essays, Brevity has been publishing bite-sized literary perfection for over twenty years. Start with this gorgeous lyric essay called Variations on a Home Depot Paint Sample, and then keep going.

Hunger Mountain
This student-run journal from Vermont College of Fine Arts consistently publishes stellar work. They also enthusiastically cheer on past writers through social media, making those of us lucky to have published in Hunger Mountain feel part of a true writing community. For a sampling of their nonfiction, try this short essay by River Holmes-Miller: What Is There, What Is Missing.

Literary Mama
Known for their beautifully written essays and stories on motherhood, Literary Mama navigates the joys and sorrows of parenting with thoughtfulness and grace. Here’s a stunner called The Four Seasons of Longing, easily one of my favorite essays on motherhood, ever.

Mothers Always Write
The poetry and essays at this lovely online magazine reflect, with quiet dignity, the challenges and celebrations of raising children. Free from political controversies and pointless vulgarity, each issue of Mothers Always Write is pure treasure. The following essay brought me to tears with its surprise ending: Wow.

Superstition Review
Arizona State University’s online literary magazine is another solid publication that works hard to support its past contributors and foster an online community. The quality of their fiction, essays, and artwork means its always a treat when a new issue is released. I particularly loved this short fiction from last fall: This Family.

Motherwell
It’s hard to believe that three years have passed since Randi Olin and Lauren Apfel, both formerly of Brain, Child, launched their online parenting publication. Motherwell’s objective is to tell “all sides of the parenting story”; here is a beauty told from the point of view of an adult daughter: Helping my mother clean out her closet, the year before she died.

Women on Writing
I owe so much to the supportive and generous group of women who run this site. Their daily blog posts always strive for positivity and encouragement, and their quarterly flash fiction contests keep me inspired to submit shorter work. Here is an example of one of their featured articles on revising and resubmitting.

Poets & Writers
A yearly subscription to Poets & Writers costs less than $2 per month, and there’s nothing quite like getting the latest issue delivered to your actual mailbox (not the digital one). When it arrives, you can kick off your shoes, settle in with a cup of tea or a glass of wine, and read amazing articles like this one: Some Room to Breathe: In Praise of Quiet Books.

Losing Tin House should be a wake-up call for many. There are probably very few people who truly don’t have the time to read an occasional short story or essay. If you’re a lover of literature, pick a publication that means something to you and do what you can to support it, while you can. You can even start now by sharing it here with me. Every reader counts.

One Resolution, Many High Hopes

Photo by Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash

Since 2014 I’ve avoided declaring writing resolutions and tried keeping things simple with one easy goal—reading one book per week for a total of 52 per year.

This year I far exceeded that goal, partly because I embraced a new-found love of audiobooks. I’ll share my bookish end-of-year recap with you in a few weeks, but for now here’s a list of the writing I published in 2018:

Short Stories

From Autumn to June
A young girl struggles with feelings of loss over an aborted sibling.

I’ve lived all my life without knowing you. Fourteen years. I’ll still never know you, but at least now I know of you. You existed once, and nobody gave you a name, and I’m sorry about that.

The Lost Girls
A six-year-old boy experiences a truly haunted Halloween while trick-or-treating with his sister.

He’d never been to the ocean and didn’t know what the waves sounded like when they broke against the shore, but Timothy knew they didn’t sound like the voices of girls.

Articles

A Different Point of View
In this post for Women on Writing, I reveal a trick to getting to know your characters better.

Start at the Beginning—Using Titles as Prompts
In this post for Superstition Review, I discuss writer’s block and how to beat it.

Essays

Although it didn’t get published, I was thrilled when my essay Pure Imagination won honorable mention in Women on Writing’s essay contest in March.

I may not have writing resolutions for 2019, but I have lots of hopes. I hope to find an agent or publisher for one (or all!) of my three unpublished books. I hope to write something completely different, non-literary, and fun (maybe a cozy mystery?). Above all, I hope to keep scribbling away—preserving memories, creating worlds, and wondering at the magic of it all.

Happy New Year!

Celebrating Halloween with a New Story

This Halloween I’m celebrating for several reasons. One is simply the fact that, to me, it’s the most wonderful time of the year. When wreaths of snarled twigs and black roses show up in the stores alongside pumpkins, sugar skulls, and shelves full of candy, it signals the end of summer. And for us desert dwellers, that is a blessed relief.

Another reason to celebrate is that today I’m editing the final chapter of my book The House on Linden Way. I wrote about this work-in-progress last September, but back then I called it my maybe-novel. That’s because I often start a story with the intention of writing a book, but instead end up writing a long short story. I was thrilled when this one chose to stay with me a little longer. Now my once maybe-novel is a full-length manuscript—revised, polished, and on its way tomorrow to my beta readers.

Finally, I’m excited to announce that my short story “The Lost Girls” was published today in YA Review Net (YARN). This story was formerly known as “The Shell of Light” and won runner-up in YARN’s 2017 Halloween Fiction Contest. It’s a favorite of mine for the same reason Halloween is my favorite holiday: I love the moody imagery and Gothic gloom of October stories. I keep my Halloween screen saver on all year long, and I’m a sucker for literature and films depicting crumbling castles, misty graveyards, dark forests, decaying mansions, ghosts and goblins or, in this case, a night out trick-or-treating gone horribly wrong.

I wrote “The Lost Girls” to a prompt given to me by my then seven-year-old son, so this one’s for him, although it’ll be a few more years before he’s allowed to read it. You don’t have to wait though. Click here to read “The Lost Girls,” and Happy Halloween!

The Story Behind You

Sometime in May I was browsing for journals at my indie bookstore (in recent years I’ve learned to overcome my reluctance of writing in journals) and discovered a gem called 50 Things About My Mother.

I purchased two copies, smiling as I imagined how my children, ages 11 and 16, would answer prompts like “My favorite childhood memory of us together” and “The best gift you ever gave me.” These time-stamped treasures were all I wanted for Mother’s Day.

Their responses were as illuminating, sweet, and funny as they are. Gabriel’s answer to “My favorite fun fact about you” was “you are not like most mothers” (“In a good way, right?” I asked in amusement, to which he hastily agreed). Abigail’s responses to “Things I know you can’t live without” included breakfast, Barnes & Noble, and us. (She’s right).

And then, toward the end of Gabe’s book, I read aloud his answer to “Things I’ve learned from you along the way.” Momentarily speechless, I glanced at my daughter, who looked back with matching surprise. Here is what he wrote:

“Wow, Gabe,” I said. “That’s beautiful.”

“It’s poetic,” Abbey agreed.

And it’s true. You have a story behind you, something I’ve taught my kids—who both like to write—but have never worded quite so eloquently.

You have a story behind you, and that doesn’t mean you’re bound to its narrative and can’t create something new; it simply means you have everything you need to get started. In an interview with YA Review Net, Jacqueline Woodson, who writes both fiction and memoir, states it another way: “My writing always starts from a place of memory.”

Mine too. My latest novel is about a woman who revisits her childhood home and becomes lost in her memories. It’s a ghost story, a story of a haunted house and the trappings of nostalgia. I believe in ghosts, and haunted houses, but I’ve never really encountered them; the writing is fiction. Yet it starts from memory—memories of a beloved brother, of a childhood home, of early motherhood and its suffocating fears.

It’s a collection of moments I’ve left behind. Together, they fused with my imagination and created their own story, something entirely new and exciting but rooted in memory, my memories, something only I could create.

You have those moments too—moments scattered throughout your past that burned bright enough to make a lasting impression and are waiting to be rediscovered, and maybe reimagined. You have a story behind you, one I’d love to hear. So, write.

Read My New Story “From Autumn to June”

This week YA Review Network published my short story “From Autumn to June.” I wrote this piece last spring and was thrilled when YARN sent an acceptance letter over the summer. Having worked with them previously on my story “We Never Get to Talk Anymore” and again on a piece that will be published in October, I knew my work was in good hands.

“From Autumn to June” was one of those rare stories that almost seemed to write itself. It’s as if it were there all along, just waiting to be discovered. When that happens it feels like magic, and it’s the best part of being a writer.

Another great thing about being a writer is getting to see the world through different points of view. This particular story explores a very sensitive subject from a perspective not often considered or given a voice. While researching, I was surprised to discover how prevalent this issue is—I found several support groups on various platforms dedicated to those struggling with it.

At first I wasn’t sure how to approach the narrative. Remembering how much I loved reading Barbara Kingsolver’s letters to her mother and daughter in Small Wonder, I thought I’d try the same. The style, called epistolary, has an eloquent way of capturing intimacy. I love how it turned out, and I hope you do too.

Read “From Autumn to June” here.

On First Publications

Photo by Lance Grandahl on Unsplash

A writer’s first publication is something special. I remember mine—a newspaper article I wrote when I was fifteen. My friend Bethany wanted to be a photographer and I had lofty aspirations to become a music journalist. Some of our friends were in a heavy metal band and had an upcoming gig, so I wrote a sprawling profile and Bethany arranged a photo shoot of the band members perched on a block wall at sunrise.

I gathered our materials in a manila envelope, waltzed into the offices of the Merced Sun-Star, and told the receptionist I would like to see the editor, please. With a straight face, she told me he was busy at the moment, but she’d be happy to take my envelope. Reluctantly I handed it over, reiterating my preference of delivering it personally, as the material was time-sensitive. The receptionist assured me it would be forwarded promptly and—who knows?–maybe they could use it for the Sunday edition. She smiled politely, and I walked away feeling dejected.

That weekend we went out of town to visit family, but when we returned I skimmed through the Sunday edition, just in case. When I saw my byline above a (ruthlessly edited) version of my article, my jaw dropped open. I ran through the house, shrieking that the NEWSPAPER published my story! The NEWSPAPER! I saw clearly my future as a celebrated music journalist, perhaps writing for Hit Parader or Metal Edge (spoiler alert: neither magazine survived the digital age, and mainstream metal did not survive the 90s). The moment is etched forever in my mind as my first real writing triumph.

Last month, my daughter had her own defining moment—also at the age of fifteen. Encouraged by her creative writing teacher, Abbey wrote a short story to submit to the 2018 Tempe Community Writing Contest. Her story “Ladybug Princess” won first place in the high school fiction category and was published in Tempe Writers Forum V.4. I was so crazy proud of her I purchased over a dozen copies, sent out an email blast, and instructed my husband and son to have roses and chocolate cake waiting when we returned home from the awards ceremony.

Abbey’s been writing seriously since middle school and has been recognized for her talent by winning honorable mention in the Young Authors of Arizona Scholastic Writing Awards in both 2015 and 2016. While those achievements were awesome and inspiring, there’s nothing like winning first place and having your story appear in print.

She had the option of reading “Ladybug Princess” at the awards ceremony and bravely chose to do so. I sat in the front row, brimming with joy at my daughter’s accomplishment and also thankful that she has this victory to power her through what can sometimes be a difficult journey.

It takes grit and tenacity to be a writer. Those of you who are writers know what I’m talking about. It means facing rejection over and over. Losing your confidence and feeling, at times, very alone. Spending hundreds of hours crafting stories you never know if anyone else will read.

But experiencing the wonder of creating worlds and characters that otherwise would never have existed? The incomparable thrill of seeing your name in print for the first time? So worth it.

Read Abbey’s award-winning story here.

New Season, New Stories

Yesterday was officially the last day of summer, although for me summer ended six weeks ago when my kids returned to school. I miss having them home, and I miss long sleepy mornings and indulgent late nights filled with movie marathons, sprints to the 24-hour donut shop, and endless reading.

Now mornings begin with an alarm clock and evenings end with math homework and ten-minutes-till-lights-out warnings. But there are definite advantages to the school year: it’s easier to meet my writing goals, stick with a healthy diet, and schedule time to work out. I love walking my son to school every morning. And, of course, the weather eventually turns, like it did earlier this week.

Fall is here—jeans and sweaters, autumn-spiced candles, fresh-baked pies. Halloween displays in the grocery store and the return of cool evenings that melted away in June. Soon they will turn cold, and that’s fine too. There will be more movie marathons—first scary ones, and then Christmas ones. There will be more books. And there will be more writing.

Although I’ve been quiet on here, I have kept busy this year, drafting new short stories and essays and making pretty good progress on a maybe-novel (I’m calling it that until it reaches the 50,000-word mark—too often my novel ideas end up long short stories).

One of my new pieces, called “From Autumn to June,” was accepted at YARN magazine for publication next year. And one of my short essays, or maybe it’s more of a poem, was published this week in Mothers Always Write.

That piece, called “Sometime After Thirteen,” is a tribute to my now 15-year-old daughter; I read it aloud at a Mother’s Day reading in May with my daughter in attendance, and I was honored to have it appear in such a lovely magazine so that I could share it with you, too. I hope you read it, and I hope you all had a wonderful summer and are looking forward to fall as much as I am!