Some January/February Highlights

Image from Flickr by Jorge Jaramillo

It’s the last day of February in what was just a brand-new year—how did that happen? The past several weeks have been incredibly busy at the nursing facility where I work as we’re implementing an electronic health and medical records system. But I’ve managed to squeeze in plenty of writing, including a few blog posts that you’ll never read because I simply ran out of time to post them and now they’re outdated!

Anyway, I’m happy to say I have a new CP (critique partner), and we’ve been exchanging chapters for a few months. She’s made it all the way through my middle grade WIP and offered tons of great feedback, which I’ve been working through intensely. When you’re knee-deep in edits on a project, you often end up hating that project, and that pretty much sums up my feelings at this point. But with my CP’s encouragement and reassurance, I also feel like it’s close to being a good book and stands a chance. No matter what happens, I’m proud of writing it.

One of my goals for 2017 was to keep better track of my writing and submissions. I was genuinely shocked at how little I wrote toward new fiction last year, and how little I submitted. It’s very easy to deceive yourself about how much you’re writing when you’re constantly thinking about writing and surrounded by writers talking about writing. Now that I have a system in place, I can see the actual numbers. So far this year I’ve sent out 14 submissions, received 4 rejections and, most importantly, 1 acceptance! That piece, about siblings outgrowing each other, was published mid-month in a wonderful parenting magazine called Motherwell: You can read it here.

I’m no longer counting the hours and words I put into edits (that was last year’s mistake); in addition to those efforts it’s important to me to draft new material. Much of January was spent working on a new creative nonfiction piece called “Transient,” which was excruciating to write. It’s about something that happened in my childhood that’s memorable, not because it left a scar, but because it didn’t. While considering whether to commit this memory to paper, I did some research into those involved, and discovered something that both devastated me and inspired me to tell the story. The essay’s out on submission now, and I hope to share it with you someday soon.

Finally, I was recently invited by Superstition Review to create a podcast for their Authors Talk series, discussing the inspiration and creative process behind my short story “The Woman in Room 248.” I am so excited for this because it’s something I’ve never done before, and I have a few ideas for how to make it interesting/fun. My podcast is slated for March 28, so stay tuned!

A Good Way to End 2016

Honestly? This has not been a good year for me when it comes to publishing. Part of that is the majority of writing I did in 2015 is tied up in 2 unpublished books. One of the books is a collection of short stories, and I hadn’t been submitting the stories individually because for so long I only imagined them as a collection. That could still happen, but there’s no reason for me not to submit them to literary journals in the meantime, which I started doing this fall.

Numbers-wise, I only had three new publications this year, and I collected more rejections than I care to admit. Still, I believe in quality over quantity, and I’m proud of the pieces I did publish. One of them came out this month in Superstition Review, and you can read it here. “The Woman in Room 248” is the story of a young nursing student trying to reconcile her idealized vision of a dream career with the harsh reality of the job. Superstition Review is a tough journal to get into (this wasn’t my first time trying!) so I was thrilled to join their list of contributors. And I’m relieved that I could end 2016 on a positive note.

Hopefully 2017 will be a more fruitful year; I think it will be, now that I’m not stubbornly hoarding all my newer fiction in the hopes it will be released in the neat little package I’d envisioned. Sometimes dreams need to be let go, but more often they simply need to be re-imagined. I’m a dreamer at heart, so that’s no problem for me.

Sometime in the next few weeks I’ll post my 2016 end of year book survey. I read so much this year (57 books and counting!), and I can’t wait to share some of my favorites with you. Until then, Happy New Year, everyone!

This Really Is the Best of Phoenix

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I’ve felt so honored lately to have been part of two memorable projects. The first was as an assistant for this year’s Best of Phoenix, an annual issue published by Phoenix New Times that celebrates all that is great in the Valley of the Sun. It’s a huge project—the issue comprises several hundred categories, along with essays and as-told-to pieces, and my responsibilities included organizing copy, fact-checking the issue, and preparing lists and slideshows for the website.

Best of Phoenix has a different theme each year, and this year the theme was Border Town. We are a mere two hours from the border of Mexico, after all, a fact usually associated with scathing talk of separation and building walls. I can’t express how much it means to me, especially in a year like this one, to have contributed to a publication that embraces and pays tribute to the influences of Mexican culture in its city.

I’ve stayed silent online about the ugliness plaguing my country, not convinced that adding to the toxic mess on social media could possibly make a positive difference (and suspecting that fueling the fire would only make it worse). But inside, my heart has been hurting; too often these last several months I’ve felt hopeless, struggling to come to terms with the increasing awareness that we are surrounded by hatred, willful ignorance, and rampant racism. Thanks to social media, we know it’s in our families, our friends (or those we once considered friends), our co-workers—it is everywhere.

Anyway, you won’t find it here. Best of Phoenix was published last Thursday; if you’re local, hopefully you grabbed a copy, but you can always browse the issue online. There are wonderful essays, published in both Spanish and English, from gifted writers like Arizona’s inaugural poet laureate, Alberto Rios, and dozens and dozens of categories acknowledging, with pride, the best of Mexican culture in Phoenix.

The other project I’m excited to be a part of is Hospital Drive’s first anthology. Hospital Drive is the literary journal of the University of Virginia School of Medicine; they publish poetry, prose, and original art dealing with themes of health, illness, and healing. Four years ago this month, they accepted my short story “The Distance Ratio,” a semi-autobiographical piece about a single mother putting herself through nursing school by working at a job that is painful to her, and how she tries to cope with the pain.

Last January, Hospital Drive’s managing editor emailed, explaining that they were putting together their first print edition, a collection of what they considered their best work since the journal’s founding in 2007. They wanted to include “The Distance Ratio.” This week, I received my copies.

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The anthology can be read online here; however, the print edition is only $5, and it’s so much nicer having a physical copy. The pages are filled with incredible artwork, moving poetry, and half a dozen works of prose from thoughtful and talented writers. It’s truly an honor to be among them.

Click here to purchase a print copy of Hospital Drive’s first anthology, and help support a literary magazine. You’ll receive several hours’ worth of great reading and a year’s worth of good karma. Really.

On Empty Journals

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Early in grade school, a concerned teacher notified my mother of a problem I had with communication. This problem, the teacher warned, would need to be corrected or I’d continue having great difficulty making myself understood.

The issue wasn’t crippling shyness or dyslexia or a speech impediment.

The issue was my handwriting. I had terrible handwriting.

I practiced as ordered, struggling to compose words as pretty as the other girls’, who wrote with perfect slants and even letters, daring loops and adorable quirks, dotting their i’s with hearts or little bubbles, pinning their confidence onto the page with flourish.

Maybe I tried too hard, or maybe I was in such a rush to express myself in written words the words tumbled out too fast, spilling into each other and rising and falling to the rhythm of my thoughts.

Maybe the problem is the way I hold my pencil, which I realized only as an adult was different from the way most people hold theirs (not resting lightly between my index finger and thumb but squeezed between thumb and ring finger, my hand pulled nearly into a fist).

Despite all efforts to improve my penmanship, it honestly remains deplorable. Sometimes even I have a hard time reading it. Anything I write that looks pretty on paper looks that way because I wrote it twice, the original version crumpled up and tossed away.

Maybe this is why I have so many blank journals.

Because aren’t journals wonderful? I suppose it’s ironic that I could happily spend hours lingering in the part of the bookstore that sells books with blank pages. But I love the promise of those pages–smooth bare sheets waiting to be filled with thoughts, ideas, memories, and stories. That’s always my intention, of course. To fill them in, to stamp their unbroken surface as merrily as a child stamps through a surface of unbroken snow.

Most of the time I can’t bring myself to do it. When it’s time to put my thoughts to paper, I might reach for one of those tempting journals on my bookshelf, the ones I couldn’t help but slip into my shopping basket while out buying birthday presents or school supplies. I might even pull one off the bookshelf, flip carefully through it, imagine pressing a pen to one stone-white page and filling it with my scrawled and uneven script.

Inevitably I put it back, choosing instead a yellow legal pad or a plain old spiral notebook. And I suppose that’s fine—what matters is that the writing happens.

Still, there’s something wistful about those beautiful journals on my bookshelf that remain unmarred, their spines unbroken, their pages still smooth and smelling of new paper, and of promise.

Perfect, and perfectly empty.

 

Write With Joy

Image from Flickr by dillypopdotcom

Image from Flickr by dillypopdotcom

In his essay collection Zen in the Art of Writing, Ray Bradbury talks about writing his classic dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451. Distracted by his daughters at home (“Father had to choose between finishing a story or playing with the girls. I chose to play, of course, which endangered the family income”), he began visiting the university library to write.

At the time it cost a dime for every half hour to rent one of the typewriters, so he’d write like mad trying to cram words in. It cost him a total of $9.80—all in dimes—to complete the first draft, which he did in nine days.

I thought that was a pretty great story. I can picture the young father, desperate to make the most of his limited writing time, hunched over an Underwood in the basement of a university library, furiously pounding away at the keys. The end product turned out pretty well, wouldn’t you agree?

Bradbury was a big advocate for writing every day, and for having fun while doing it. He insisted we should write with joy:

If you are writing without zest, without gusto, without love, without fun, you are only half a writer. It means you are so busy keeping one eye on the commercial market, or one ear peeled for the avant-garde coterie, that you are not being yourself. You don’t even know yourself. For the first thing a writer should be is—excited. He should be a thing of fevers and enthusiasms.

I’ve written with joy, with love, and with gusto. I’ve also written with self-doubt, with despair, and with dread. I always felt like a whole writer, but it’s true that if you’re writing your story for anyone else besides yourself, you’re not really being you.

Not every writing project will be fun, but it should at least be exciting. Sometimes I get excited about an idea but then overthink it and lose that joy. I used to believe it was the actual writing I found laborious, the way Dorothy Parker described it when she said she hated writing but loved having written. But no—for me the frustration is not writing, but not writing, which inevitably happens when I’m overthinking.

Which would not be a problem, I’m sure, if I had to pay for the privilege of typing out my words. I guess with inflation that dime Ray Bradbury paid for every half hour of typing Fahrenheit 451 would be, today, about a dollar. And I imagine if it cost me two dollars an hour to write, I’d write a lot faster. Maybe I could even draft an entire novel in nine days.

Okay, probably not. But I’m sure I’d have more fun doing it.

Writers are writers whether they choose to write with misery or with joy; I’d much rather choose joy. And Ray Bradbury had the perfect advice for how to do that, summed up in two little words he kept on a sign by his own typewriter for decades:

“Don’t think.”

Abigail Wins an Honorable Mention in the 2016 YAA Scholastic Writing Awards

Abigail at the 2016 Young Authors of Arizona awards ceremony in Scottsdale

I mentioned last month that I was looking forward to sharing some wonderful and inspiring writerly news from a very special family member.

Well, here she is! For the second consecutive year, my daughter Abigail has won an honorable mention in the Young Authors of Arizona Scholastic Writing Awards. We attended a lovely ceremony and reception on Saturday at Desert Mountain High School, and I was so proud watching Abbey cross the stage and collect her award. It takes courage to share your writing, something I know most of you who read this blog can appreciate.

Crossing the stage at Desert Mountain High School in Scottsdale

Crossing the stage at Desert Mountain High School

Abbey and her best friend, Grace

Abbey and her best friend, Grace

We learned about Young Authors of Arizona through Lisa Jones, the language arts teacher at Abbey’s middle school. Abbey adores Mrs. Jones—I think all of the students do. She was recently honored herself, as a finalist for the Tempe Diablos Excellence in Education Awards, in the category of Inspiration.

Not only does Mrs. Jones inspire her students to create, she encourages them to submit their work. Last year she helped them register and enter their writing in the Scholastic Writing Awards, and she looked every bit as proud of Abbey as I felt when we met in Glendale for the awards ceremony.

Abigail and Mrs. Jones at last year's YAA awards ceremony

Abigail and Mrs. Jones at last year’s YAA awards ceremony

This year, the coordinator for ASPIRE Academy also came to the ceremony. Dr. Taylor is another teacher who’s been incredibly supportive of Abbey and her artistic dreams. She graduates middle school next month, and although she’s excited for high school, she is going to miss these amazing teachers who have encouraged her and cheered her on for the last three years.

Abbey with Dr. Gerald Taylor, coordinator for ASPIRE Academy at Connolly Middle School

Abigail with Dr. Gerald Taylor, coordinator for ASPIRE Academy

Congratulations, Abbey! You’ve always been an inspiration to me.

Interview with Amy Silverman, Author of My Heart Can’t Even Believe It

Amy Silverman with her daughter Sophie

Author Amy Silverman with her daughter Sophie

Last summer I had the privilege of reading an early draft of Amy Silverman’s new book, which launches May 1 at Changing Hands Bookstore in Tempe. My Heart Can’t Even Believe It is a strikingly honest memoir that blends investigative journalism and personal narrative to explore what it means to raise a child with special needs—Amy’s 12-year-old daughter, Sophie, has Down syndrome.

With a journalist’s heart (she is managing editor of Phoenix New Times and has twice been named journalist of the year by the Arizona Press Club), Amy asks hard questions about biology, about history, about motherhood, about discrimination, about the future, about Sophie, and about herself. Most of the time she finds the answers, but her daughter—who is a remarkable and charming girl—continuously surprises her mother by defying all expectations and refusing to be solved.

Like Sophie, My Heart Can’t Even Believe It is fearless, honest, and beautiful.

Click here to pre-order the book through Changing Hands Bookstore, which comes with two tickets to the launch party!

My Heart Can’t Even Believe It is also available for pre-order from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

About the Book:

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In MY HEART CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE IT, journalist, blogger, and NPR contributor Amy Silverman tells the story of the birth and growth of her daughter, Sophie, and the Down syndrome diagnosis that changed everything. Amy wrote the book she desperately wanted to read but couldn’t find, meant not just for parents of kids with Down syndrome, but rather a story for anyone touched by disability, a story about science, and a story about being different: something that all of us can certainly identify with. It’s part memoir, part investigative reporting, part parenting manual — a crash course in genetics, history, politics, pop culture, education, medicine, health care policy, marriage, motherhood and family.

About the Author:

Amy Silverman is managing editor at Phoenix New Times and a commentator for KJZZ, the National Public Radio affiliate in Phoenix. Her work also has appeared on NPR’s This American Life and in The New York Times. Amy holds a master’s degree in journalism from Columbia University. She lives in Arizona with her husband Ray and daughters Annabelle and Sophie.

Find Amy online at her website, myheartcantevenbelieveit.com.

Elizabeth: You’ve been blogging about your daughter Sophie for nearly eight years. What inspired you to begin sharing your stories, and when did you decide to turn those stories into a book?

Amy: I actually shared my stories about Sophie long before the blog came along. Around the time my first daughter, Annabelle, was born, I began to write memoir – inspired mainly by the now-defunct section on salon.com called “Mothers Who Think” as well as Anne Lamott’s work and what I was hearing on “This American Life,” the public radio show.

I did a few stories for the local NPR affiliate here in Phoenix and managed to get a couple published on Salon. Around that time I also began to teach Mothers Who Write, a local writing workshop I co-teach with Deborah Sussman (and where I met you – yay!). All the memoir stuff started to fall together; I was hooked.

Deciding to start a blog was not easy – I’m old and was not an early adapter of the Internet and all it has to offer. (To say the least.) A co-worker at New Times convinced me to start a blog with the goal of getting me to understand what the company was trying to do online. As a journalist I’d been taught to never give my work away, but I was intrigued by the idea of telling the story of Sophie’s kindergarten year. I started and haven’t stopped, although I’ve slowed down.

And as for the book, to my dismay Sophie did not come with an instruction manual. Not one I was prepared to read. Everything was either too sciency or too touchy-feely – not real.  Not my reality, anyway. (Which is not to say that there aren’t great books out there about DS – there are.) As Sophie grew, and as my shock (and awe but mostly shock, I have to admit) wore off, I began to explore what it meant to have a kid with Down syndrome in the 21st century. It felt like a book. So I pursued that.

My Heart Can’t Even Believe It combines personal narrative with investigative journalism. Can you describe your writing process? How did you approach blending these two different writing styles?

First, I had some amazing role models. If you are at all interested in the genre, I recommend The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down by Anne Fadiman and Crazy by Pete Earley.

Fadiman’s book goes back and forth between a very specific narrative and some wonderfully vast political and historical perspective about the Mong people. Earley, a longtime newspaper reporter, writes about his son, who is seriously mentally ill, and then reports on what it’s like to be SMI in the Miami jail system. Different approaches, both super powerful, both moving from a specific storyline to a broader one.

I read Fadiman’s book when Sophie was in the hospital for open-heart surgery and the book really opened my (sleep-deprived) eyes to the possibility of a different kind of story telling. I’d been trained to never, ever use “I” in my writing as a journalist. Totally forbidden. On the flip side, in my other life as a memoir writer and teacher, there was no reporting.

I began to wonder what would happen if I mixed the two – and then I did, in a story for New Times when Sophie was very young. It worked for me. I was hooked, and began looking for different ways to do it more.

Along with raising two daughters, you are managing editor of Phoenix New Times, run several writing workshops a year, and blog regularly at girlinapartyhat.com. How do you balance work, family, and creative writing time?

It’s not pretty. My husband would tell you I am not very good at it. I am lucky to have a day job that has turned into a 24/7 job as journalism has changed and while that sounds like a negative, it’s been my saving grace because it means that I can slip away during the day for a kid’s school event and make the time up super early the next morning before my family wakes up.

I don’t sleep as much as I should and my closet’s a wreck but if I don’t get that creative time I’m just a miserable person to be around. And family time is not negotiable. I’m not sure that answers the question. There’s an element of smoke and mirrors as well. A lot of time in the car and on the iPhone.

When did you tell Sophie you’d written a book about her and what was her reaction?

People think this is weird and I have to agree, but I didn’t really tell ANYONE about the book until I actually signed a deal with a publisher. I am terribly superstitious (and maybe a little insecure) and at so many points I was unsure it would ever happen. So a few of my writer friends knew and that was it. I told Sophie a few months ago. She was (and continues to be) thrilled. I should hire her to be my publicist.

The first complete draft was due to my editor last fall and on the day it was due Sophie shook me awake, saying, “Your book is due today! Your book is due today!” When I dropped her off that day she instructed me to go print out a copy and leave it at the school office so she could read it. And she was disappointed when it was not available for her winter non-fiction book report project. She is very excited.

Writing memoir means asking hard questions about ourselves and answering those questions with unflinching honesty. You did that here, and the result is an extraordinarily brave and powerful memoir. What did you discover about yourself while writing this book?

I discovered how painfully naïve and uneducated I was before I had Sophie – both emotionally and intellectually. As a child of the 70s and 80s I was sheltered from people who were different from me. I didn’t meet an African American person until college. Growing up, I didn’t know any of my friends were gay.

Sophie was the first person with a developmental disability who I really got to know as a human being. I guess I knew those things before I wrote the book but putting all the pieces together and telling our story really brought it to the surface. I’m not proud of that; I have a lot of lost time to make up for.

On the book cover is a lovely photograph of Sophie. Is there a story behind the photo?

This is embarrassing. I only vaguely recall that photo. We tried several and I was going back and forth with my dear and incredibly talented friend Claire Lawton, who suggested design elements for the cover, and one day she sent a batch that included this image and I said, “Where’d you get that?” And she said, “I found it on the Internet.”

It must have been posted with something I wrote, a blog post maybe, I believe Sophie is 5 or so in the image and I recall the outfit – but not the moment. So yeah, so much for controlling your kid’s image online. Go me.

You have a launch party at Changing Hands Bookstore in Tempe on May 1. After that, where can readers find you on your book tour?

Details for upcoming events are at myheartcantevenbelieveit.com in the “events” section. I’ll be at Changing Hands in Phoenix on May 7 for the Mothers Who Write Mother’s Day Weekend reunion and again May 12 for a workshop called “Writing The Memoir in Real Time.” More info about pre-ordering and ticketing is at changinghands.com.

Spring Forward

Image from Flickr by Saskia Jansen

Image from Flickr by Saskia Jansen

April is fast approaching, a month with two important dates for me that mark the end of some major projects I began last spring. One of the dates is April 29, when I will graduate from college with my bachelor’s degree in English. The other is April 22, when edits for What Was Never There will (finally!) be completed.

I can say that with confidence because April 22 is not a self-imposed deadline that I can simply extend. To graduate from my degree program, I’m required to take a capstone course for which I choose a culminating project that showcases what I’ve learned—I’ve chosen the final draft of What Was Never There as my project, and that final draft must be turned in to my instructor and classmates in six weeks.

It’s a relief, because I struggled last semester with finding time and creative energy to devote to this second book while balancing homework, and now my second book is homework. It’s also a relief because I at first assumed that my capstone project would have to be the standard 30- or 40-page research paper, and I was dreading it. In January, I learned that I could choose a creative writing project over the research paper and that it could be a work already in progress.

I’ve yet to decide whether to continue school and earn my teaching certificate. If I go that route it would only take one more year, and classes would be at the community college level. Much cheaper! I’ve dreamed of becoming a teacher since my son’s kindergarten year, when I spent a significant amount of time volunteering in his classroom. I’m well aware, however, that it is an extraordinarily tough job, and that good teachers live and breathe their work (and are vastly underappreciated). It’s definitely not a career choice to be taken lightly.

In other news, I had a lovely time reading a birthday-themed story for this year’s Canal Convergence, which was the 30-year anniversary celebration of Scottsdale Public Art. Phoenix New Times co-sponsored the storytelling event, and I was flattered when they asked me to be one of their five readers. The evening was a blast. The story I wrote is called “Still Waters,” and I hope in the near future to have it published so I can share it with those of you who couldn’t be there.

Although I haven’t had much success with my latest round of short story submissions, I received a nice surprise recently when the managing editor of Hospital Drive emailed to ask if she could include my story “The Distance Ratio” in a “Best of” print edition. Of course I said yes, and I’ll let everyone know when ordering information is available!

Finally, thanks for sticking with me these past few months as I cut back drastically on my social media-ing. Now that I’m almost done with school (SEVEN WEEKS!), I’m looking forward to posting more, including sharing some wonderful and inspiring writerly news from several friends (and one very special family member). 🙂

A Look Back at 2015

Image from Flickr by Pintanescu

Image from Flickr by Pintanescu

2015 was a strange year for me, full of change and surprising opportunities. Looking back, one of the best things about 2015 is that I have no regrets about the choices I made.

The biggest was going back to school. What had always kept me from finishing my degree was money, and I was in no better position last year than any other year to go into debt over student loans. But I knew in my heart that the time was right and that the degree was worth it, and not once have I felt regret about the money. Had I kept wringing my hands, however, I know I would have regretted another wasted year of indecision.

In 2015, I also chose to say yes to pretty much everything, even when I had no business taking on new projects. That made for one crazy summer but a wonderful summer too. I teamed up with a fellow “camper” to take a Camp Nano writing challenge in July, helped my friend Adrien by transcribing his interviews with my favorite band in August (that was surreal and utterly cool, and his cover story turned out amazing), and spent several weeks on a book edit for another friend–I cannot wait until the book is announced because I’m so excited for the author and super proud to have been part of that project too.

Finally, in 2015 I chose to quit working as a nurse, at least temporarily. Because I only have six months of school left the decision didn’t feel quite so reckless, and I’m still employed at the nursing facility on an as-needed basis. Once I graduate this spring, I might work full-time over the summer to recoup my losses, but ultimately my goal is to find a job that fits my degree and my passions.

Here are some other highlights of the year:

Tucson Festival of Books: My first book festival didn’t pay off monetarily, but by now you probably know that matters little to me. What really matters are those moments writers dream of when they imagine becoming authors–moments that look like this:

me at the festivalTucson Festival author pavilion logo

 

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Uncle Mike with his niece and nephew at Disneyland in May.

Disneyland: My husband and I had taken the kids to Disneyland in 2013, but on that trip–which was a great time–I caught myself saying the same thing over and over: “I wish my brother were here.” The last time Michael had been to Disneyland was on his 21st birthday–I was 17. When I returned with my own children I missed his presence on every classic ride–Pirates of the Caribbean, Space Mountain, The Haunted Mansion. It didn’t feel right being there without him, so when we planned our next trip two years later, we told Michael he was coming with us. Going to Disneyland with my brother again after 22 years was my best vacation, ever.

 

Writing again: Boy did I struggle with my writing in 2014. The first four months of the year I was in a state of chaos, preparing for my book’s publication. I didn’t know what I was doing at all and I had no clue where to focus my energy. Once the book was published in June all my energy then went toward promoting it, and the final months of the year were spent lamenting what I could have done better. I’m not kidding–it seemed as though my entire 2014 was spent on a book that I’d already written.

Last year, I moved on.

Camp-Winner-2015-Web-Banner

In April I wrote six new fiction stories during Camp Nanowrimo, and in July I drafted a middle grade novel. During the summer I wrote several essays for a creative nonfiction class, and in the fall I took a writing workshop, which was an insane thing to do because I was in the middle of a full semester at ASU. But I came out of that workshop with seven new pieces, one of which was published in December. And I attended readings, which is so important because it keeps me connected with my writing community.

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Fall 2015 Mothers Who Write public reading.

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Me with my friend Judy, a former Mothers Who Write classmate.

Not everything went well with my writing though. My goal was to have those six short stories from April revised and polished and ready to go by the end of November–I am still not done. But I’m also not too discouraged because the stories are there; I have something to work with, and I’m moving forward.

Speaking of moving forward, here are some things I’d like to do better in 2016:

Reach out: Time and again, the literary community where I live has reached out to me: I’ve participated in numerous readings, served on a focus group for improving the arts in Tempe, and even been asked to read at this year’s Canal Convergence. I’ve never turned down an invitation to contribute to my local arts scene, but I also don’t reach out enough on my own. This year I plan to be more proactive and supportive.

Focus: I read somewhere recently that the defining characteristic of those who regularly accomplish their goals is their commitment to focusing on one thing at a time. Just one thing. No multitasking. I love the idea of being truly present in every moment and completely focused on the task at hand, whether it’s making dinner, playing with my children, or writing an essay. I know that if I can discipline myself to do this it would completely change my life, because most of my time is spent either in the moments ahead of me or the moments behind. I want to be where life happens, in the moment happening now.

Happy New Year, everyone! What are some of your goals for 2016?

Other Voices

One piece of writing advice you will hear repeatedly—and with good reason—is to put aside your rough draft for a while before starting edits. This is so you can gain perspective on your work. Usually the problem is that after you write something you think it’s fantastic, maybe the best thing you’ve ever written. But sometimes it’s the opposite—sometimes you think it’s the worst.

I felt that way about my story “We Never Get to Talk Anymore.” I wrote the rough draft nearly three years ago, shelved it for a few months, and then reread it. This is terrible, I thought. No one’s going to like Myrna. No one’s going to understand her. Yet another, smaller voice was cheering for her, saying, No, this is good. Keep working on this.

Unfortunately, some stories are that way: no matter how much time you take away from them you cannot gain perspective. Back then I was still shy about asking friends to look over my work, so I struggled on my own trying to decide whether this story had any merit. After submitting it and receiving a swift rejection I felt strangely validated–I knew this was terrible!

I tweaked the story a bit, set it aside for several weeks, tweaked it some more, resubmitted it, received another rejection, and went through the whole cycle again. At no point did I feel truly confident in this particular piece. The fourth time, however, I submitted it to a magazine called YARN, and they would not only publish “We Never Get to Talk Anymore” but nominate it for a Pushcart Prize.

This story that I once thought was the worst thing I’d ever written.

Remember those competing voices in my head? What if I’d listened to the louder one? The quieter voice—the one that believed in Myrna’s story—was right. But often you won’t listen to that voice. Sometimes you won’t even hear it.

What I want to tell you is don’t be shy about sharing your work. Pick two or three writers you admire, and make them your critique partners. Listen to other voices, because when it comes to judging your work, yours can’t always be trusted.

Yes, once in a while a story will come along that perhaps wasn’t meant to be written. Or, more likely, it is simply not the right time for that story to be written. Maybe it really is a mess, completely unsalvageable. Maybe you’re right that it deserves to be permanently shelved.

But maybe you’re wrong.