Six practical (and slightly irreverent) writing life tips

It's been about two months since my last "In The Word Cellar" column on writing and creativity. Two months! This is not good, kids. I know I'm always declaring my desire to buckle down and write more (both in general and here on the blog), and I'm weary with my own inconsistency.

I can write a good game about what I need to stay committed to my writing: time and space and quiet, first of all. I've written about creating writing rituals and rhythms, how to keep creating, and the enthusiasm that must remain after inspiration. I probably need to go back and read those posts, take a dose of my own sweet medicine, essentially.

But in addition to all that, I'm thinking about some practical, kick-in-the-pants things I can do make my writing life a priority. Here's my list. Most of them are as much about living as they are about writing, but that's really not such a surprising distinction, methinks.

1. Admit that you're delusional. First of all, I need to admit that I'm delusional. I still think that what I value and desire will come easily and automatically. For example, I value and desire a clean, orderly home. I think better and feel better when I'm not surrounded by dust bunnies and chaos. But maintaining a clean, orderly space is not my strong suit. I want the calm, but I tend toward the chaos. In the same way, I desire to write regularly. I want the consistency, but I tend toward the sporadic. The delusion is that I think I'll work toward what I want (clean home, regular writing practice) without resistance.

I think that if I really wanted these things, I'd make them a priority no matter what. And I think that this no-matter-what should be my default mode. Nuh-uh. Not so. I don't know if it's this way for other people, but it's not true for me. I have to remind myself to work at things -- even if I really want them and love them. My gremlins try to tell me that this means I don't really love them, because if I loved them enough I'd just do them no matter what. So I have to remember this delusion and not fall under its self-esteem-eviscerating spell. I get distracted. I get tired. I get busy. Having to remind myself to write does not mean that I'm lazy or incompetent or that I don't really and truly want to be a writer. Resistance does not a failure make.

2. Take hostages. In other words, write things down. You think you'll remember that delightful new word/phrase/book/idea, and sometimes you will, but often you won't. Okay, so I mean that I won't. But this is a common stumbling block. Capture things when they come to you! I use the "notes" feature on my phone when I'm out and about or when something hits me when I'm in bed falling asleep at night. I also usually have at least half a dozen notebooks lounging about, making it easy for me to jot things down. But this creates another problem, which leads to the next point.

3. For the love of your sanity, corral your hostages. Electronic notes. Scraps of paper. Napkins. Eight different notebooks. The backs of grocery lists. I just know that idea is on one of these. Now where was it?.... This one is so basic it's almost embarrassing, especially since I've done some serious project management in the past and have kept all sorts of things organized for my clients and employers. Why is this so difficult when it comes to my own stuff? I don't know the answer to this, but I'm getting better at creating a system that works for me. It's still unwieldy, but I can mostly keep track of things now that I'm down to about three main notebooks, some with special sticky notes and tabs! (If you have tips on either why this is so hard, or how to overcome it, please tell me!)

4. Eat something, dammit! I rarely forget to eat, but I am known to get wrapped up in a project, put off eating for too long, let my blood sugar get all dippy, and then freak out because I can't think, I can't write, and I NEED TO EAT RIGHT NOW. This is not conducive to staying in (or returning to) the creative flow. The practical tip here is to be prepared with three levels of eating options. Level one we'll call Code Green: Schedule time into your day to cook something and take a break to do it. Level two, or Code Yellow: Have food in the house that's ready to eat, such as leftovers, sandwich fixin's, or a frozen meal option. Code Red: Have cash on hand to order an emergency pizza or take-out sushi.

5. Fight the power! Do not be taken hostage by Facebook, Twitter, Email, or Instagram! Those bastards will try to woo you and lull you into just a few more clicks and updates. Be strong.

6. Half-ass it. I'm a writer with a blog, which sometimes feels like an occupational hazard. Imagine being a chef and inviting a few friends over for dinner. That dinner better be foodgasmic, right? At least, that's what I'd be thinking if I were the chef. The dinner guests, on the other hand, are probably just happy to (a) be spending time with friends; (b) not have to cook; and (c) be eating yummy food no matter how simple it is. I already know that not everything I write will be amazing. I let myself write shitty first drafts (á la Anne Lamott) of my essays, knowing that I'll clean them up later. It's not quite so easy with a blog. I don't want to write a shitty blog post, but I have to give myself permission to half-ass it from time to time -- because sometimes half-assed is all I have. Not because I don't care, but because not every blog post will be brilliant. (This one certainly isn't.)

That's what I have to go on right now: debunking delusions, organizational challenges, meal planning, a call to arms, food analogies, and a handful of swear words. What you got?

{Read other "In The Word Cellar" posts here.}

Roller Derby Makes Me Brave: A new chapter (Part 1)

Two years ago I went to my first roller derby bout, and then I wrote a blog post about it on April 22, 2010. On March 21, 2012, almost 23 months to the day of that post, I finally strapped on a pair of skates and hobbled around a rink for half an hour. Those 30 minutes were a long time coming, and they've catapulted me into a new adventure. I'm going to be chronicling my journey from couch potato to roller derby badass. You're invited to roll along with me.

To start, here's the original post (slightly edited) from two years ago. (You can read the whole series or the individual posts.)

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Romp n Roll rink; shot with cell phone camera

April 2010 -- Roller Derby is the great social equalizer. I am not even kidding. It is a land of freaks and geeks, of unshaven bluecollar men and shaven young people of indeterminate gender, of interracial couples and Girl Scout troops. You can be yourself at Roller Derby, and it's all good.

I wasn't sure how I'd feel at my first roller derby bout. (that's what matches are called: bouts). I wondered if I'd be cool enough, hip enough, gritty enough to fit in with the crowd. I arrived early at the Romp & Roll rink in Glenshaw, hoping to snag one of the few tickets available at the door. On my way to the entrance, I passed a cluster of men and women hanging out near the side door ― the door that the insiders used, the entrance that means "I'm with the team." They were dressed in biker black and were smoking cigarettes. Suddenly it seemed like my outfit (dress-over-jeans and a little lime-colored cardigan) that feels so funky in my suburban neighborhood marked me as a newbie, a roller derby virgin, a goodie-two-shoes who couldn't skate with the big girls. But I kept walking, head held high and eyes averted. I glanced to the left to see if anyone had noticed me, and here's what I noticed: Nobody gave a damn.

Here's what happened while I waited in line, which was a microcosm of the rest of the evening: I struck up a conversation with a man who reminded me of my father's factory worker friends. I told some young hipster guys that they were in the right line for tickets. A geeky guy bummed an American Spirit cigarette from one of the hipsters, and then had to ask for a light, too. A young woman in a wheelchair told the small crowd, "If they say the tickets are sold out, you all just pretend you're with me and I'll look real sad!" My husband arrived and got in line with me, and he didn't look out of place, despite still wearing his work clothes (dress shirt and slacks) and being the only non-white person in sight. No one batted an eye, because damn, this was roller derby, and we were all here to have a good time.

At this point in the story, maybe you're like: What's with all the judging-books-by-their-covers, McG? All I can say is: Why is everyone calling me McG all of a sudden? And also: Appearance is the first thing we see, so yeah, I'm a bit of a book-cover-looker. But I'm less concerned with judging others than of being judged. And now, maybe you're like: Whoa! Insecure much? And I'm like: Well, yeah, occasionally I'm insecure despite all my efforts to be a strong, confident, self-actualized person, maybe-just-maybe I sometimes worry in new situations. Just because I act like I'm all self-possed and brave doesn't mean I'm not shy and cumbersome on the inside, okay? And now you're like: Um, okay, chill out and stop putting words in my mouth, because, dude, I'm just trying to read about roller derby. And now I'm like: Frickin-a!

Inside Romp n Roll, the joyful melange of people expanded. I didn't feel out of place at all, because it was impossible to stick out. Goths and punks and bikers co-existed peacefully alongside whitebread families with adorable toddlers. There was no baseline for normal here, which meant that everyone got to be beautiful and wonderful in their own way. If only the rest of the world were as integrated as the crowd at a roller derby bout! Dare I say it? Roller derby is the key to world peace.

I think roller derby may also be the only thing (besides sex) that could convince me to enjoy sweating. I generally don't like to exercise or do anything that requires me to catch my breath. I'm a sedentary sort of person, but I have secret dreams of speed. I used to fantasize about flying around the ice as a figure skater, but now I'm hooked on old skool roller skates. The spandexed people of California can keep their inline skates. Give me a shoe with four wheels, one at each corner of my foot.

I watched those women skate and block and fall, and I wanted to be one of them. I was so quiet that my husband asked me if I was tired, but I was focused, intently studying the techniques of the game. I've never played or cared about a sport in my life, but there I was, trying to figure out if I'd be a better blocker or jammer.

Earlier that day I had lunch with a former co-worker. When I told her that I want to be a roller derby girl, she replied, "You're too nice for that.

I said, "Oh, I have a dark side." 

I'm not the kind of girl to wear fishnet stockings, to have tattoos or piercings, to know how to move my body in time to the rhythm of music and skates, to be strong and confident in my own skin. But I could be. I tap danced for eight years as a kid, and I'm sure a set of fishnets came with one of those costumes. On Saturdays my dad would drop off my friends and me at the roller rink, where I skated with all the bad-assery I could muster at eleven-year-olds, moving in time to Tina Turner's "What Love Got to Do With It?", round and round that rink like I owned it, even though I had no idea what the song was about. In high school I sported a fake nose ring, and the only thing stopping me from getting real piercings and tattoos is my body's rejection of foreign bodies as evidenced by two disastrous attempts at pierced ears.

Sometimes I feel like 11-year-old me had more bad-ass potential than 34-year-old me does. Knowledge may be power, but innocence has a force all its own. I don't know if I'll ever try out for the roller derby team, given the practicalities of my knee, which makes a grinding sound when I bend it, and the fact that the rink is an hour from my house. But there's a bout next month and a general skate before that. I plan to be there, with or without fishnets.

Meet the Writers: The Guests of Alchemy

One of my favorite things about the Alchemy courses is the list of featured guests. I'm convinced that three of the most necessary components for living a writing life are: 1) writing; 2) reading; 3) being in creative community with other writers. Part of this third component is learning from writing mentors and peers.

Every guest in Alchemy informs and inspires my work, and I really am thrilled to share their insights and energy with you. Here's the guest list of authors, writers, poets, and bloggers for the next session of Alchemy: The Art & Craft of Writing. Class starts on Monday (April 2), and there's still a spot for you on the guest list if you'd like to join us.

Brené Brown, PhD, is a professor and vulnerability researcher at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work, an expert on the topics of shame and guilt, and author of the books The Gifts of Imperfection and I Thought It Was Just Me, the DVD "The Hustle for Worthiness," and the curriculum "Connections."

I talked with Brené about overcoming the shame that can get in the way during the creative process. You can listen in on our chat and find out how she combats that pesky creative block called perfectionism in her own life -- even after writing multiple books!

Marianne Elliott is a human rights advocate, writer, not-for-profit whizz, yoga teacher, and the creator of 30 Days of Yoga. Also known online as Zen Peacekeeper, Marianne is the author of Zen Under Fire: A Story of Love and Work in Afghanistan, a memoir about life as a peacekeeper there.

Marianne shared with me what she learned through the process of rewriting and editing her book. Listen along for her wisdom, insight, generous spirit, and fabulous Kiwi accent. {photo of Marianne by Susannah Conway} 

Liz Lamoreux is the author of Inner Excavation: Explore Your Self Through Photography, Poetry and Mixed Media. She's also a yoga teacher, editor, artist, workshop teacher, and creator of the Be Present retreats.

Liz will help us tap into our senses so we can begin to translate the richness around (and within) us into words on the page. She'll be sharing a guest post and a guided audio meditation. Her soothing voice is a delight to listen to (and I'm not just saying that because she's one of my dearest friends). {photo of Liz by Darlene Kreutzer}

Sue William Silverman's memoir Love Sick: One Woman’s Journey through Sexual Addiction, is also a Lifetime television movie. Her first memoir, Because I Remember Terror, Father, I Remember You, won the AWP award in creative nonfiction. Her craft book is Fearless Confessions: A Writer’s Guide to Memoir, and her poetry collection is Hieroglyphics in Neon. One of her essays appears in The Touchstone Anthology of Contemporary Nonfiction; others won contests with Hotel Amerika, Mid-American Review, and Water~Stone Review. She teaches in the MFA in Writing Program at the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA).

I worked with Sue when I was a grad student at VCFA, and she's shaped much of what I know about writing creative nonfiction. In her written interview for Alchemy, Sue shares where and how she finds story ideas -- or how they find her.

Susan G. Wooldridge is the author of poemcrazy: freeing your life with words (in a 23rd printing!), Foolsgold: Making Something from Nothing and Freeing Your Creative Process, and Bathing with ants (poetry chapbook). She presents her writing and creativity workshops (which have been featured in Poets and Writers magazine) around the country, and she is in her seventh year of a series to foster creative expression among people of all ages and backgrounds in rural California libraries sponsored by Poets and Writers organization and the California Center for the Book.

Susan and I talked about how we can play with language and imagery to keep the spark of creativity alive. She is a lively talker and teacher, and I think you'll get a good dose of fun and inspiration from this interview. 

Meredith Winn is a writer who finds herself having a love affair with photography. She is regular contributor to Shutter Sisters, and her writing has appeared in Literary Mama, Midwifery Today, HipMama, Motherverse, Mamazine, and the forthcoming anthology Mother Birth.

The first time I encountered Meredith's work I knew she had a special knack for storytelling. Read along as she shares her thoughts on using our artistic voices and tapping into the multifaceted, authentic parts of ourselves that help us to create.

I hope you'll come along with us for some writing, some reading, and some creative community. If you're ready to take your writing deeper and wider, please check out the details and registration here. (Class starts April 2, but registration will stay open until April 9.)

On Location: A Mild Cow Stampede (an Everyday Essay)

I didn't mean to cause the stampede.

Twilight edged toward dusk, and the full moon peeked above the hilly tree line. I had to hurry to catch the remaining light, but I approached slowly. I didn't want to spook the cows, especially the cute little black one with the fuzzy head nearest the fence. She stared me down, like a barnyard sentinel or a kid still young enough to be curious.

This farm sits next to a monastery just down the road from my neighborhood. The cows have been out in full force lately with the early spring weather. Of course, "full force" for a cow is still a fairly laidback affair that seems to center on the grass -- munching it and lolling about on it. One day earlier this month I noticed that they were hanging out in the field closest to the monastery parking lot, enjoying a smorgasbord (sMOOrasbord?) on tractor wheels,  which was great luck for me. For weeks I'd been on the lookout for a good cow photo shoot  opportunity. I needed some bovine beauties to accompany an essay I'd written. So when I drove by and saw these ladies ready for their close-up, I circled back home to grab my camera and snap a few shots.

It went quietly for awhile. The cows ate. A few stared. The moon rose.

Then I crouched down to get a different perspective.

And that's when the young sentinel bolted, setting off a chain reaction. Stampede! Cows turned and scattered everywhere. A quick rustling sound and then thundering hooves. Dust! Perhaps a stray bellow or two. This was exciting. I became a National Geographic photographer, shooting wild animals in their natural habitat! Cows in action!

I waited for a nun or farmer to appear and reprimand me for provoking the wild life, but no one showed up. I stayed still for a few minutes and the cows wandered back. Some of them went back to eating from the rolling buffet. Others formed a phalanx and kept a closer eye on me.

This one kept her distance from me and the group. She wasn't taking any chances.

I think this gang, staggered strategically off to the side, was part of the Secret Service or the Mafia.

I think they're on to me.

I hope they don't show up in my front yard.

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About Everyday Essays: At least a few times a week I jot down notes about something -- usually a small moment, detail, or thought -- that I want to write about. Most of those ideas stay frozen as notes and never bloom into essays. Everyday Essays is my new writing practice to allow some of those notes to move beyond infancy. I've decided to share some of them with you here, even if they're still half-naked or half-baked. The word "essay" (as is almost always noted when the form is discussed) comes from the French verb essayer, which means to try. The essay is a reckoning, a rambling, an exploration, an attempt. Think of these Everyday Essays as freewriting exercises, rough drafts, or the jumbled, interconnected contents of my mind, which may or may not take root and grow into longer (deeper) essays.

Why Writing Is a Kind of Alchemy

What is alchemy?

Alchemy is the power or process of transforming something common into something special.

What is writing?

Writing is the where light and shadows meet. The act of writing is a gift, a practice, a calling, an outlet, an inlet. It's beautiful, terrifying, powerful, and strange. It's fun and funny. It's little black lines on white paper, a form of telepathy between writer and reader, a crazy combination of magic and sweat. It's wondrous and hard. In my writing life I regularly call upon my muse, try my own patience, and recommit to the practice of putting words together one-by-one. Writing is art and craft. Ideas and language.

Writing is the alchemy of inspiration and technique.

This is why I created the Alchemy ecourses. The next session of Alchemy: The Art & Craft of Writing starts soon (April 2). It's designed for people who have been writing at least a little bit in at least a semi-regular way (in a journal, on a blog, for work, for play, whatever). It's not a dry, how-to course filled with rules and regulations about what you "must" or "must not" do to be a better writer. It's also not simply a course about inspiration, even though there will be plenty of encouragement and nuggets of inspiration along the way. After all, what good are techniques without the muse?

As with all art forms, writing is a magical combination of the artist and the materials.

My photographer friends often say that it's not the camera that takes great shots, but rather the person behind the lens. But they know how the gear works, how to find the light, and how to frame the shot. Likewise, a painter creates the painting, but she benefits from knowing how to use different brushes, paints, and mediums.

And this is the magic: When you understand the tools and techniques of your craft, you know how to create pieces that express your unique vision. In Alchemy we'll explore writing tools and techniques to help you tell your stories in your voice.

I created this course because it's the course I was looking for several years ago when my writing had plateaued, and before I'd decided to pursue my MFA in writing. The elements covered in it have transformed my writing. We explore  some important foundational techniques that you may have missed or forgotten, and we look at how to apply them in practical ways to improve our writing craft. This is not about technicalities for the sake of being technical. This is about the tools of the trade that help you make art with your words. We also cover techniques that make your prose sparkle, including ways to polish it and hone it so that you're using language in a way that best serves your stories.

Class starts next Monday (April 2). I'd love it if you joined me, a community of other creative souls, and some fabulous featured guests. You can find out more and register here.