Of Plots and Pants and Plodding Processes

"Are you a plotter or a pantser," people often ask. It sounds like an easy-to-answer question.

It's not.

I used to think I was a plotter, but every time I said it, it sounded – even to me – like “I am a plodder.” Now, this may accurately describe my writing speed, but it does nothing to convey the wonderful exhilaration of the writing process.

This is my process: I go where the story takes me!

I’m hardly a pantser, though. I’ve written exactly one book by the seat of my pants. My characters were interesting, but had no direction; I felt like I was wasting both my time and theirs. They were so out of control, the story kept haring off on wild tangents. 

I know there's a story in here somewhere...

In order to save the story, I had to stop writing and do what I should have done in the beginning: determine the beats and develop a road map. Then I had to axe vast quantities of text (which, given my “plodder” pace, was enough to permanently cure any future pantsing nonsense). I felt like an archaeologist wielding a machete to clear away the jungle overgrowth from a hidden city before I could get to work making sense of the ruins.

As a writer, I am a huge devotee of structure, which is why I originally cast my lot with the plotters. Love me my road map! The danger with relying too heavily on a map, however, is becoming a slave to the highway. Though the interstate may be the fastest drive from Point A to Point B, it’s rarely the most satisfying or the most interesting.

So, I don’t feel comfortable identifying with either Plotters or Pantsers. Instead, I consider myself a Docent. 

I am the story’s caretaker. The tour guide. My job entails presenting the story and the characters in the best, most interesting way possible. Sometimes that means slavishly adhering to my plot points. Sometimes that means staying out of my characters’ way while they go exploring.

-->> What are you? Plotter? Pantser? Or something completely different? Leave a comment and tell me about your process!

Shadow Dancing

Happy Groundhog Day!

I originally hail from a small town in Pennsylvania near Punxsutawney. (The Punxsy Chucks were our high school's arch rivals.) Let me tell you, Groundhog Day in Punxsy is nothing to scoff at.

For some inexplicable cosmic reason, Feb. 2 hasn't been so good to me or the ones I love. On this day in 1989, my grandmother died. Nineteen years ago today, my wonderful husband had brain surgery. (Now we're gearing up for a repeat performance in less than two weeks. We had the choice between Thursday, Feb. 12 or Friday the 13th. Hm....) Ten years ago at this time, I was in L.A. trying to salvage what was left of his brain from poorly prescribed and monitored medication. Like I said, historically, Feb. 2 and I don't get along.

Scared of his own shadow?

At least I'm not Punxsutawney Phil. The Fat Boy is taken from his lair and held up in front of thousands (literally!) of people who normally couldn't tell a groundhog from a vole, and who would gladly have target practice with a woodchuck the other 364 days of the year. Then the Grand Poobahs "listen" to Phil tell them whether or not he saw his shadow.

Today, at O'dark-thirty, Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow. Which means, according to Conventional Chuck Wisdom, that he was frightened back into his comfortable home.

Those of us here in Michigan, enjoying yet another snow day off of school, with over three feet of snow in the lawns and pastures, could have told him that six more weeks of winter is likely. But he didn't ask.

Like the proverbial groundhog, sometimes I let myself fear things that I can't shake. My shadow rarely worries me, but who am I to judge? I've been known to fear the future (next Thursday looms large), the past (bad things have happened on this day before... perhaps they will again!), and elements of the present (bills! commitments! other people's expectations! ALL THE MANY JUGGLING BALLS IN THE AIR! AAaaaugh!).

But thankfully, I am not a groundhog. I am not a slave to my shadows. I can choose to run away from them, but doing so only prolongs the freezing fear. I'd rather dance with my shadows than let them chase all joy from my life. Some things that help me make my shadows dance:

Everything is Temporary. Nothing lasts forever. Nothing. No matter how dark the night or how bad the storm, eventually it will pass.

This Moment is Mine. At any given moment, there is something to be thankful for.

Even when things are dire, when the day is overwhelming, when the hounds of hell are barking at the door, if I focus on the moment that is currently happening -- refusing to invest in the fear of the future -- I can find something that makes me grateful. Prisms of sunlight on snowfall... my dog's wagging tail... my daughter's sweet smile... the smell of fresh-baked bread or brewing coffee. I can build an entire dance routine on such magic moments.

I Am Not Alone. I believe both that God is love and that perfect love casts out all fear. The more I focus on those I love, without trying to contain or control them, the easier it is to stay out of my hole and make it through the day. I have faith in my family and friends. We are all in this together. And together, we'll make it through.

So: Happy Groundhog Day! Whatever you're going through, whatever shadows threaten -- here's hoping you find the strength and the courage to dance with them till they fade away.

RideSharing

10 Gifts For The Dog Lover Who Has Everything

Sooo... It's holiday shopping time. Which means stores are outdoing themselves to cram stuff on their shelves in the hopes that people will buy it without first questioning "Is this necessary?" "Is this meaningful?" or "Good heavens, what sociopath created *this?*"

Chances are, you have a few dog-lovers on your list. If you're scratching your head over what to gift them with, look no further. I present...

1. The "Fuzzy Butts" Sweater

Not only will this give you the opportunity to say "You have a Spot on your shoulder" with zero irony every time the recipient wears this item of apparel...

 

... but if you invite said sweater-wearer to sit upon the flat surfaces of your house, you'll never have to dust again.

Source: https://www.etsy.com/listing/201487548

2. Alien Facehugger Dog Leash

Because nothing says "I love my dog" like a leash designed to resemble a life-sucking science-fiction parasite. If truth-in-advertising is to be believed, the leash may also render the pooch... er... stuffed.

Source: http://creepbay.com/alien-facehugger-dog-leash/

3. The Trippin' Wolf / Dove / Electric Shock Therapy Bird Shirt

Add a kaleidoscope, an olive branch, and some bath salts, and you've got the gift that keeps on giving...

Source: https://www.etsy.com/listing/160768705/siberian-husky-wolf-shirt-dog-bird

4. The "Feelin' Horny as a Hound-Dog" Sweater

For that special someone who needs a special something. Rest assured that all eyes -- even those of the dog on the torso -- will be on whoever wears this puppy.

Source: http://www.amazon.com/Jingleballz-Mens-Antler-Sweater-White/dp/B00GTXAPE8

5.  "My Dog Has Fleas" Game

For the littlest dog-lovers on your list. Brought to you by the same people who make "Mr. Ed Broke His Leg" and "Rover's Ringworms."

Teaches children not one, but two valuable life skills: how to put fleas ON a dog and how to crank a dog's tail. Fun for the whole family.

Source: http://www.stupid.com/my-dog-has-fleas-game.html

6. The "Welcome Santa" Doormat

Because, really, if nothing sniffs your crotch when you enter the front door, there's no point in visiting, is there?

Source: http://bit.ly/11BS0tX

7. "Mouldy Dog" Topiary

It's like Chia Dog, only outside!

Source: http://bit.ly/1rBwp1d

8. Dog-Themed Toilet Paper Dispensers

Novelty toilet tissue dispensers are neither necessary nor meaningful, but -- given the right circumstances -- they can be interesting. Presenting Exhibits A, B, and C...

Exhibit A: The Minimalist

Source: http://amzn.to/1uSSUZY

Exhibit B: The Realist

Source: http://amzn.to/1Cpu3XJ

Exhibit C: The Humorist

Source: http://amzn.to/1HLzwbl

9. Giant Dog Nose Wallcovering

I *promise* you they don't already have this. For extra fun, hand-tint the edges red and name the wall "Clifford.

Source (because you know you want this...): http://www.jwwalls.com/animals-dogs/nose

10. The Demon-Dog Sweater

Those eyes that bore right through your soul! That nose that rivals Rudolph's!

Yours will be the only gift that brings with it the dual dangers of potential electrocution and immolation.

Source: http://www.rustyzipper.com/shop.cfm?viewpartnum=289641

Fa-la-la-la-la, La La La Laaaaaa!

Thanks Giving

Thanks for alarm clocks that go off when it's still dark outside.

Thanks for a comfy bed, fuzzy slippers, fresh sheets, soft pillows.

Thanks for the child in the next room that makes me crawl out of bed and get going in the morning so she can get to school on time.

Thanks that she has a school to attend. Thanks for dedicated teachers and for the education she's receiving. Thanks for the information she has access to. Thanks for the students in her class. Thanks for her friends who are teaching her about whispering and passing notes and sharing private jokes. And thanks for those who are not her friends, teaching her valuable skills for dealing with difficult people.

Thanks that every morning she must make a decision on which clothes to wear. Thanks that she must decide if she's going to wear her boots or her shoes and must choose which coat is the right one for the day. Many children are not so fortunate to have multiple warm coats to choose from. I am thankful she is not one of them.

Thanks for the snow, blanketing everything in white. Because of it, in six months, I'll be more thankful for the warmth of summer than I would be if I had that warmth all the time.

Thanks for the dogs. And the cats. The chickens. And the ducks. Thanks for the horses. Thanks that I have to do chores, even early in the morning. Thanks-thanks-thanks for electricity and running water, both in the barn and in the house.

Thanks for the smell of coffee. Fresh eggs. Homemade bread. Real butter.

Thanks for good friends who, when they're sick, call and ask me to take their kids to school, knowing that when the situation is reversed -- and it will be, one day -- they will repay the favor. Thanks for kindred spirits.

Thanks for my family. And special thanks for my husband, the love of my life.

Thanks for the wind blasting up from the bluff. Without it, I wouldn't be nearly as grateful for the heat inside.

Did I mention the coffee? Thanks.

Thanks for drive throughs. Thanks for the girl at the cafe who takes longer than usual to get my order. If I hadn't been waiting for her, I wouldn't have fiddled with the radio and stumbled across a new station playing an old favorite song -- that now runs through my head on infinite repeat, an anthem of praise providing a soundtrack of thanks for the rest of my day.

Thanks that I have enough cash to pay for my morning coffee. Thanks that I don't have enough to buy both coffee and a scone; this ensures that I will savor every drop.

Thanks for gravity keeping me grounded. Thanks that I dropped my change on the ground when paying for my order. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have discovered that someone else dropped their change and neglected to pick it up. Thanks for unexpected windfalls; blessings in disguise.

Thanks for the scone. It was delicious.

Thanks for medical scans. Thanks for modern technology that alerts us when there may be a problem with the health of those we love.

Thanks for the awareness that modern technology is not God; it cannot fix all of our problems.

Thanks for the chance to lift my eyes, looking beyond myself, higher than the clouds, higher than the sky higher than my hopes, higher than my dreams, higher than anyone can possibly imagine. Higher than I am. Higher than I can become...

Thanks for the thought that there is something higher than all of us, looking at me, accepting my thanks, hearing me when I cry out and ask "Why?" and "When?" and "How long?" and "How soon?" ... Something that hears me when I say--

Thanks.

Mentor Magic

Not long ago, I received a phone call from a woman I'd met earlier this year. During our initial meeting at our local library, I'd offered some advice on breaking into the publishing world. We talked about things like crafting query letters, composing punchy pitches, and pitching projects.

No one knows it all. Seriously. Ask for help!

I did not read her project (a young adult novel) or comment on it. I scanned the first few pages enough to see that she knew how to put words together, and knew a thing or two about punctuation. Our meeting didn't focus on the writing -- it was more about what to do with what was written.

It appears that she went right home and worked on what we'd talked about. (Side note: I can't tell you how gratifying it is when someone asks for your advice -- and then follows it.)

She called to let me know that a BIG agency had responded to her query and requested the first three chapters of her manuscript. She had a few questions about proper format -- but mostly, she was just excited. And she wanted to say "thanks."

I told her how proud I was of her, and told her to let me know when she'd landed an agent and sold the book.

Urgently needed: Fashion mentor. Stat!

No one knows it all. And -- praise God! -- we don't live in a vacuum of isolation. We all need mentors. We need people who are willing to point out the path we should follow.

How can you tell if you need a mentor? Five sure signs:

1.) You have done your best, and have progressed as far as you are able to on your own.

2.) You have specific questions that someone else can easily answer or you lack specific skills that someone else can easily demonstrate.

3.) You are ready and willing to learn.

4.) You are ready and willing to act on what you learn.

5.) You are ready to stretch yourself, but you need someone with experience to help show you the way.

If you exhibit all five signs, you owe it to yourself to find a mentor willing to help you grow.

Seek.
Ask.
Learn.
Fly.

No one can make us follow a particular path, or use information that's been given to us. And no one can walk the path for us. But I'm always grateful when someone who's a little further up the publishing ladder is willing to give me the benefit of his or her experience. And I'm happy to help people who might be able to learn from what I know. The magic is in realizing that we're not on this trip alone.

When the Raptor Comes

My husband and I returned home near dusk. We were met at the driveway by a squawking, terrified chicken, running about as if she’d had her head cut off. I thought perhaps I’d left the gate to the chicken pen open and headed over to see what was the matter.

The gate was firmly closed, but the entire little flock was twitterpated. As I approached the fence, I saw the problem: an enormous raptor – a rough-legged hawk – in the pen with my chickens! He flew off as I approached, but he took his time doing it. His huge wings spread out and sent the birds into new paroxysms of terror.

Inside the coop, the oldest chicken (a 4 year-old Barred Rock who has been going through a most embarrassing molt) cowered in a corner. Her breathing was too fast, and her eyes were closed. I saw no blood or signs of a struggle. She had simply shut down and was waiting for the end to come.

Since chickens will often keel over and die from a heart attack after a stressful situation, I fully expected her to be gone by the end of the day. Surprisingly, however, after 15 minutes or so in a near-comatose state, she stood up, stretched, ascertained that the executioner was NOT nearby, and ran out of the coop as if nothing had happened.

While the hawk terrifies my chickens and could destroy them, he is not really a nuisance to me. I often see him at the back of our property when I am riding, and he never fails to inspire awe. He is magnificent. Just having the opportunity to see something like that is one of the reasons I love where we live.

But there is no denying the fact that he is a real menace to the chickens. They are not equipped to deal with him. They would literally rather die than confront him. They cannot see the beauty and power that he holds. They will never soar where he does.

Ah – of course there is a lesson in all this. When the raptor of success comes knocking at your door (and it will, if you give it half a chance and put yourself in a position to encounter it), will you be inspired to reach within yourself and rise to new heights? Or will you cower in a corner, give up without fighting, and wait for the end to come?

I once did a book edit that ended up becoming a total rewrite because of such a raptor. The original writer was so impossible to reach, I dubbed him He Who Will Not Call. His representatives informed those of us working on the book that Himself simply could not be burdened with any more work at this time. He was going through a Difficult Period. He was Very Busy. He was indisposed.

Things got so bad, the publisher was forced to send all communications via certified mail just to verify that HWWNC received the materials.

If I stay here, it will all just go away...

Regardless of whatever reason for why He couldn't respond to my content questions, all I could see was that giant hawk circling overhead. If HWWNC would have seized the opportunity to rise to the challenge, the manuscript could have been completed in a matter of weeks. (As it was, it took months. Many, many months.) Himself’s part would have been finished. All he would have had to do would be to wait for the royalty checks to arrive.

Instead, however, he probably only saw the amount of work still to be done. And since he had never written a book before, the task must have looked as daunting as an Araucana hen fighting off a bird of prey. So he chose to give up – to cower in a corner in the coop and pray for a swift end, so we'd all stop bothering him with editorial questions.

There’s a lesson here, and it’s an important one. When you agree to tackle a new project – something you’ve never done before… something that scares you… something that will force you to learn new things in order to finish it -- decide at the outset how you will face the inevitable challenges that arise.

Will you crawl into a hole and refuse to come out until all possibilities of success have passed, thus making your fear of failure a self-fulfilling prophecy? Or will you find a way to find the strength to leave the confines of the comfortable behind you and soar toward success?

Happy flying…