Word by Word

Practical insights for writers from Jessica P Morrell

The Page Will Hold You Up

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Mar• 21•13

Intention is the writer’s soul.” William Zinsser

Like many people there are parts I love about my life and parts I’m not so crazy about. The part I love is early mornings at my computer with the sky changing in the east, the click of the keyboard, the words that emerge unplanned. The quiet that descends into the deepest parts of me. The solace of writing.

I love that I am surrounded by creative types and writers and have met prolific, best-selling, soulful, talented and envy-inducing authors over the years. I’ve met most of these people at conferences I teach at and conferences that I host twice a year. It would be silly to name names here since these meetings don’t always culminate with friendship, but there have been so many profound moments when afterward I knew something in me changed and I walked away as if holding a rare, South Sea pearl.

We’ve shared meals and drinks and talked kids and politics and world affairs and the state of publishing, but mostly I’ve listened. Which doesn’t come naturally. I’ve sat in on sessions and keynote addresses that have brought me to tears, made me think deeply about the writing life, have changed me in ways both subtle and profound.

This past January I hosted my annual Making It in Changing Times Conference where Lidia Yuknavitch was my keynote speaker. She was speaking on The Worth of Risk. Now, I had interviewed Lidia a few months earlier about her writing process and had asked her hard questions about how to write deeply from a character’s viewpoint. Her answers were inspiring, her thoughts ocean deep and enchanting and practical all at once. She described how to write from the body, borrowing or possibly burrowing into your character’s physicality to make her voice true. She talked about feeling her character’s thighs when she, Lidia was at the desk writing. She described slipping stones under her pillow and other tricks of believing in the elements that surround us.
      So naturally I was looking forward to hearing her speak. Lidia began talking about the times she’d fallen on her face from risk taking. Then she described the times she’d succeeded wildly. She’s now friends with a famous actor after boldly introducing herself at the Sundance Film Festival and she studied in a Masters writing class with Ken Kesey although she was an undergraduate student and sort of weaseled her way into his class. Kesey’s kindness and confidence in her was life changing.

As she warmed to her topic, revealed herself, I could sense the room leaning forward. Bursts of laughter and glances exchanged. But mostly a church stillness. Something powerful was happening as often does when writers gather. This something is difficult to express. The truths and joys and bruises of the writing life admitted to and celebrated.

Next, as she wrapped up her talk, she asked us what risks we take for our writing. I answered that I could write as though my mother was dead. A cruel-sounding proposition, but there you have it. She’s been my judge and jury my whole life, and although this role has faded over the years, even as she’s shrunk and is becoming lost to dementia, I sometimes feel her hot breath on my face, hear her familiar accusations.

Finally it was time for a question and answer period. One woman in the group kept insisting there were too many barriers to writing her memoir, to telling the truth. She explained that she lived in a small town, the people she would write about still were alive. And that’s when   Lidia said, “Just write. The page will hold you up.” And with this simple truth it was as if everyone in the room exhaled then shifted into the same rhythm like a bird flock taking flight. Filled with grace. Soaring.

©No portion of this essay may be reprinted without permission.

Breaking Out

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Mar• 07•13

Jessica Page Morrell©

Associate with all the smart, funny, talented, creative people you can, learn to write beautifully, but don’t stay locked in your room to do it: go out and try new things, meet new people, have a wonderful, rich, compelling, and interesting life — and then tell me about it in the most beautiful prose imaginable. Jeff Kleinman

  A few years ago at the Willamette Writers conference I was talking with an agent, asking her if she’d heard any good pitches. It was Saturday morning and she was feeling hopeful since it was early in the game. So we chatted a bit, and talked about how the publishing industry has been undergoing changes over the years and she mentioned that it seemed that editors were either looking strictly for category books or the next unusual blockbuster novel. I asked her for an example and she mentioned Alice Sebold’s Lovely Bones which has also been purchased by director Peter Jackson.

Later I was talking with author Julie Fast about the biz as she prepped for her workshop on writing a bestselling nonfiction book. She’d been attending all the editor and agent panels and had jotted down their comments about the state of publishing. I mentioned that I wished beginning writers would keep in mind that the so-called rules for getting published are different for breakout and superstar writers than they are for break-in writers. And I’ve been thinking about this ever since.

If you have an urge toward storytelling or writing the newest how-to book and also want to hit the big time, here are a few things to consider. Let’s start with a few definitions. At the bottom of the publisher’s catalogue are backlist titles. These are older titles that aren’t red hot sellers but are kept in print because of steady sales and include lesser-selling genres like Westerns.

      Midlist is a publishing term that means the titles occupy the biggest part of a publisher’s catalogue. These books are dependable sellers but not best sellers. If an author is called a midlist author it means he or she hasn’t written a bestseller yet, but his or her sales are good enough to justify publishing his books and buying more books from these authors. While the majority of books published are midlist, the majority of book sales don’t come from midlist because the big bucks come from best sellers such as the Harry Potter books. While being a midlist author might make some writers feel like Cinderella’s stepsister with big feet, the reality is that most midlist authors can make a living at it and can hope that perhaps after a few books or half a dozen books that they might break out.

Breakout means that a published author pole vaults from so-so sales of maybe 10,000 or 20,000 to mega sales. Dan Brown is a good example. After a mediocre career as a musician and composer in L.A. he returned to New Hampshire and a teaching gig at his old school and began writing. He sold three novels and two humor books, with small sales for all. Then his fourth novel The Da Vinci Code was published in 2003, sold 60,000 copies in the first week in print and skyrocketed to the top of The New York Times bestseller list. It has gone on to sell over 70 million copies. Needless to say, that’s a big time break out.

Generally a breakout book is somehow extraordinary. If you are like me and could not get past page 20 of The Da Vinci Code because the writing is lackluster at best, you’re probably wondering what makes a book break out. Often the book has a super tantalizing hook, creates strong reactions in readers, and is high concept, meaning that the essence of the story can be whittled down to a single sentence, can be understood by anyone, and the story or book idea explodes with meaning and intrigue. Both Lovely Bones and The Da Vinci Code are high concept.

The good news is that publishers are always on the lookout for breakout writers because they’re generally already polished or at least reliable writers and because they can buy their titles cheaper than they can buy from the big dogs. Breakout is synonymous with up and coming and can refer to memoirists, authors of how-to books, and novelists. In other words, they have the potential to become superstars and garner mega sales.

What gives a breakout author an edge is if they have an established platform such as a web site and other ways to attract readers and if the author is easy to work with. So turn in your manuscript pages on time and accept editing suggestions gracefully. These writers understand the business and will help all they can to boost sales. Other ways of breaking out include winning or being nominated for awards, sparkling reviews, and garnering a blurb from a household name such as Stephen King.

Sometimes a breakout will occur when an author switches genres as in the case of Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. Haddon who is also a poet has written a number of children’s books. Everything about Haddon’s book is highly original especially the voice, that of an autistic boy and the puzzle about a dead dog at the center of the story. It also won several prizes and will be made into a movie.

A breakout book means the author has somehow upped his game with meatier or more sizzling or original content. Sometimes an author hits the big time and breaks out after only one or two books such as Jeannette Wells’ The Glass Castle or Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love. Both books are memoirs.

Then there are the super star authors whose names are synonymous with bestseller. These are the folks that publishers put their money behind in printing thousands of copies, paying for multi-city book tours, and creating bookstore promo and display items. Publishers will also lavish money on promotions for breakout authors, but most often books break out because of word of mouth sales, winning awards, or being chosen by a major book club such as Oprah’s or ABC’s Good Morning which chose Lovely Bones. Often a publisher will be caught by surprise when a book breaks out and will rush more copies into print and start the promo machine rolling. Cheryl Strayed’s Wild is a good example of a break out book that has caused waves of success and recognition. Another is Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl. Both are being made into movies.

Celebrity books are another sales category and include writers such as the Clintons. Publishers will also lavish big bucks behind selling their books because of name recognition.

The superstar category are the writers who have sold millions of books. No matter what they write, and that means even if it’s drek, they will land a book deal and the publisher will print thousands or millions of copies. These big dogs include the late Michael Crichton, John Grisham, Stephen King, J. K. Rowling, Ann Rice, James Patterson, Tom Clancy, and Nicholas Spark. You can also throw in best-selling authors like Dean Koontz, Catherine Coulter, Diana Gabaldon, George R.R. Martin and Norah Roberts into this crowd. Typically their name on the cover guarantees sales and their books often are often turned into movies.

Now, my list of mega stars is probably short–writers I’ll read no matter what they publish. My latest mega star is Jess Walter. Some of these authors write great books, some of these authors write a mix of great books and so-so books. It does you no good to compare your writing to any breakout because your writing needs to be better than theirs. Which is the point of this column.

One last thing. Often when I’m teaching a workshop a writer will pipe up with an example from Thackeray or Henry James or Faulkner to dispute some point I’m making about craft or rewriting or getting published. Here’s what I think: there is no one right way to write, but there are thousands of ways to write poorly and make mistakes in your career. While all authors are wise to read the classics, you’re wiser to read breakout books and puzzle out what sets them apart from the author’s previous works and try to somehow emulate them.

Summer in Words Writing Conference 2013

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Feb• 27•13

Imagine Write Publish

Registration begins March 15

Dates: June 21-23

Cannon Beach, Oregon

For updates check here.

Bitter Truth # 8

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Feb• 23•13

Bitter Truth # 8

Someone is always going to write better than you.

Make that a lot of someones. And I’m not talking about famous dead authors and Pulitzer Prize winners or high up there writers you can never hope to meet. I’m talking about the cranky oldster in your writing group or the whippersnapper prodigy down the block. Or the woman across town who just landed the 7-figure advance. Since there are millions of people working at writing these days there are bound to be many that write better than you.

You can dwell on this, allow envy to make you judgy and twitchy, or you can acknowledge the facts and write anyway. You see writing brings a lot of joy and solace into our lives, but then along with those cheery aspects there is anxiety, doubt, and envy.

And envy, my friends, is a bitch. It’s your true enemy who needs to be shown the door.

Now you can wallow in envy, or you can write anyway. You can curse the fates that your work will never appear in the New Yorker, or you can keep writing.  Then write some more. Especially on those days when your writing path is potholed and your creativity is choked, this offers little consolation. Keep at it. Write for love, to witness, to  capture truth, or simply to tell a great story. Without looking over your shoulder at the competition, without feelings of jealousy, or competition.

This isn’t fifth grade. This is the writing life. Play the long game.

Write From Your Soft Parts

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Feb• 13•13

©Jessica P. Morrell

Tears are words that need to be written.” – Paul Coehlo

          Church scholars are uncertain about the identity of Saint Valentine. The confusion exists because there are several  Valentines who are linked to February 14. It’s commonly accepted that is that he was the bishop of Terni; he was beheaded in Rome because of his faith and buried in Terni. It was observed that birds started mating on the anniversary of his death and that this is why he became the patron saint of lovers.

As the holiday approaches, let’s ruminate about writing about love and, relationships. Let’s get it right. I’ve read love scenes that had me sweaty, yearning, and stirred with emotion. I’ve read love scenes that were about as romantic as Naugahyde upholstery. In a dumpy diner.I’ve read stories where relationships are sparked like dry tinder in August. They begin with a chance meeting in, say, the produce aisle. The couple shares a joke over a cabbage and next thing we know, they’re bonded and bonding, if you get my drift. Not to mention cooking together. No in between stages or trials. Kiss, kiss, bang, bang.

The problem is that readers want to experience a couple’s emotional chemistry and also want to participate in the ups, downs, and travails of love. You, writer friends, need to write about a special and always-mysterious bond that exists between couples. But love isn’t always sublime, especially on the page. It’s often not the solace we all crave, that soft place in the world we all need. You need to delve into the difficult parts of love; expose the graceless, the awful, the words that cannot be taken back, the horrible emotional purgatory of not knowing if your love is returned in the beginning stages of a relationship.

When a romance is prominently featured in a story both characters will have an acute awareness of the other. The story exposes their vulnerabilities and because of this, write from the softest, most vulnerable part of you. Write from the times when you were crying in the dark alone feeling like the last person stranded on a faraway planet. Now that’s not to say that you cannot write from your happy memories, or that your characters cannot make it to the altar. Or the bedroom. For example, write from the memories of joy and awe when you first met a newborn. But love always stems from a deep-held need for acceptance and belonging. And those feelings make us vulnerable. Writing about love requires that you put your own emotions into the scenes and create a tender double edge and sometimes a jagged edge.

Science has identified the human need to connect, belong, and bond. Like many instincts, these drives hearken to long-ago times when humans stuck together to increase their odds for survival. Hunting, traveling, fighting, all work better in a group. A group provided possible mates, which then provided children. But the truth is that cooperative tribes, happy families, sweet, lasting relationships can be found more often in books than in real life. So you gotta give readers what they long for.

Which brings us back to writing about love. Since these days badly-written porn passes for literature, you might be tempted to steam up your story with naughty and daring sexual exploits. This supposes that we all want to peer into not only the bedroom, but a room of forbidden appetites. But love comes in so many forms. Only you can decide to risk writing a sex scene that ignites like fire spreading or if you write best from your comfort zone.

It can be helpful to think back to the moments when you first experienced love or a blinding crush. You might want to play the music of that era or find other ways to bring on potent memories. A boy in high school shattered my heart and my longing for him was a physical ache. I dreaded passing him in the hallways, clutching his new girlfriend. The one I was convinced was prettier than me. He was a tall wrestler with crooked teeth and curly dark hair, with no interest in reading or writing, my life-long passions. I was already an editor who wrote angst-blooming poems trapped in a world without operating instructions. It was misery and luckily we were doomed from the get-go. My high school boyfriend turned out to be a much smarter and kinder person.

In fiction start the relationship with a foundation based on back story, an inciting incident, or a believable set up. Is the relationship based on friendship? {Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger)} A misunderstanding or adversarial meeting? {When Harry Met Sally}Adversity? {The African Queen}After the set up with outcomes dangling, trust fragile; then build in sexual tension. Next, stir in complications and reversals such as miscommunication, lies, separation, or betrayal. But remember that readers always long for the release of that initial sexual tension and sexual tension is tied to conflict.

Whatever weight a romance plays in the story, respect your readers who spend time with your characters. Give them what you’ve promised. If you’ve promised a romance, bring it on. If you’ve established a steamy, passionate dynamic, deliver it with damp sheets included. If the characters are drama magnets, stir in extra heartbreak. Readers expect some form of change: The characters change, the situation changes, or leads to disappointment or tragedy. If your story doesn’t deliver what the opening promises, then your readers won’t return for your next story.

Writing about love is difficult because words can seem inadequate, sexual tension is difficult to portray and love scenes are action scenes with lots of, uhm, moving parts. Always a tricky proposition. When you write avoid the clinical, instead set the mood for yourself. Play music, light candles,{and for the ladies} spray perfume, slip into fabulous lingerie and tippy heels. Then write from the heart.
Here are a few more tips:

  • Always know how your character’s last relationship ended.
  • Create warring emotions in your characters. Desire and doubt. Or logic versus longing.
  • Take your characters into new emotional territory. It’s okay if it’s awkward.
  • Know the characters’ motivations: lust, culminating love, desperation.
  • Work hard at just the right dialogue — not too much, heavy on subtext. Feature power struggles, challenges, capitulations.
  • Emphasize the senses, especially touch. Feature contrasts.
  • Avoid creating sex scenes happening in unlikely moments — such as when your characters are running for their lives.
  • Use sex as game changer.
  • Write love scenes that seem to exist outside of time.
  • Skip the purple prose and corny euphemisms.
  • If the romance is a subplot, plan the emotional nadir at the end of Act Two. Hitting love’s rock bottom adds emotional depth to the story.
  • Use language that your characters would use.
  • Read the Modern Love column in The New York Times. These tales of the heart are required research.
  • Write for appropriately for the genre. Horror, suspense, thrillers need varying levels of realism in the romance subplot. Is it used for relief of tension? To prove the protagonist is human? To expose the protagonist to more danger?
  • Last and not least: Do not defy gravity.

Still time to register for Making it in Changing Times mini conference

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Jan• 19•13

It’s crucial that writers keep on top of what’s happening in the publishing world. Especially in these days of dizzying changes and wide-open opportunities. With this in mind, every January, the Making It in Changing Times Mini-Conference brings together writers and some of the Northwest’s most accomplished authors and teachers. Our purpose is to outline options for getting published, teach craft to improve your writing, and provide savvy to succeed in today’s fiercely competitive market.

Participants can expect encouragement, expertise, insights, and inspiration. The information provided is especially practical and can be immediately put to use.

Keynote address: Lidia Yuknavitch, The Worth of Risk

Also featuring Jessica Morrell, Deborah Reed, Gigi Rosenberg and Kevin Sampsell

Saturday, January 26th, 8:30-5:30

Tabor Space, 5441 S.E. Belmont, Portland, Oregon
Cost: $99 includes Continental breakfast and lunch

Complete schedule is at www.jessicamorrell.com/?page_id=45

Contact Jessica Morrell conference coordinator at jessicapage (at)spiritone(dot)com

About our keynote speaker: Lidia Yuknavitch is the author of the anti-memoir The Chronology of Water, the novel Dora: A Headcase: A Modern Farce, three books of short stories and a book of literary criticism on war and narrative. She is the founder of chiasmus press, she doesn’t see much of a distinction between genres any longer, she publishes widely and without apology, and she is a very, very good swimmer.

The Risk of Worth: What are the risks worth taking on the page and in the world? How do we evolve the art and practice of writing without losing heart? There are some risks worth taking and some risks that are merely a trompe l’oeil…from page to world and back again. Find out more about Lidia at lidiayuknavitch.net

Bitter Truth # 7

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Jan• 10•13

   Bitter truth # 6:
Whereby I espouse cautionary tales about the writing life.

Balance might not be possible all the time.
For years now I’ve heard much talk about balance, as in work-life balance. For years I also pursued it and actually still do. Each person has his or her own definition of this oft-elusive quality. For some it might mean exercising more and fretting less. Or spending that elusive quality time with their kids. For me it means that whatever I’m doing, I’m not fretting that I should be doing something else. So that I can be present with the moment.

Most people I know are trying not to chase so much. They want to settle into themselves, slow down, relish each day.

If you’re a writer, all that lovely balance we long for, strive for, work towards, might not always be possible. Writing takes a lot of time. Hour after hour, day after day. Sometimes progress happens so slow that the frustration feels unbearable. The pain too large. The end too far away. And let’s not get started on how easy it is to obsess or fall into envy at other writers’ successes.

Meanwhile, while you’re holed up in your garret du jour, the world is shimmying past without you, horns blaring, parties jollying along. If you’re the kind of person who needs lots of downtime, parties, friends, vacations, and sleep…..well, writing might not work out for you. If you spend hours on Pinterest or Facebook or tweeting or watching television….you might need to rethink that time spent or the writing won’t get done. Writing has to come first before that stuff, including sleep. Writing needs the attention that you give a new love, a marriage, a baby.

It will be wrenching at times to miss the gang’s weekly gatherings or your favorite team’s home games. You will spend freaky amounts of time alone when you have a deadline or the writing is pouring out like a lava flow. You’ll look up from your computer and an afternoon or a season will have passed. One of my author friend lives in her pajamas for a month before a deadline. Another jokes that food needs to be passed under the door to her office.

Balance is lovely, juggling is normal. Perhaps a better wish for the writing life is flexibility. You develop a dailiness, a practice, a mindset. Then, if tragedy strikes, you take a bit of time away (while still taking quick notes on the rawness of your emotions) and you return. If the holidays mean nonstop commitment, you get up early and sit in the quiet and write before the day blasts off.

The bitter truth is that you will need to give up something fun in order to write. I would love to learn to knit. Cannot do it now—too many books and columns to write. I would also love to learn how to watercolor, and travel the oceans blue. Ain’t going to happen. Instead, I’m going to learn more about the birds in my backyard, I’m going to garden as a means to let my mind wander, I’m going to nurture a calm inward life.

One last thing: When you’re not writing, don’t write. Let the story or project you’re working on simmer below in your subconscious. Focus on what’s at hand. The imagination needs downtime in order to produce the most glorious stories.

What’s Next?

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Jan• 04•13

©Jessica Page Morrell

      Sometimes you just have to trust the thing you claim to trust – and for me that is the shaping spirit of creativity. ~ Jeanette Winterson

     In long-ago times, as seems fitting, March was the beginning of the year and interestingly marked the resumption of war. In about 700 BC January and February were added to the calendar by a Roman king. January is named after the god Janus and he is the god of gates and doorways, openings and closings. Janus has two faces, back to back, which allow him to look both backward into the old year and forward into the new one at the same time. He is the spirit of the opening. Native Americans called January the wolf moon, the Anglo-Saxons called it Wolf-monath because wolves came into the villages in winter in search of food. Wolves howled loudest and searched furthest in January. With wolves about they hunkered down, kept the livestock close.

For me January will always mean the special beauty of snow and white and winter stars spangling the blackest sky. My child’s heart travels back again and again to those memories this time of year. Lacy, frost-etched windows and whisper quiet mornings. I remember most the deep silence, when every morning was a surprise: how much snow had fallen in the night? How cold was the morning? The blanketed world was far from colorless and rich in contrasts: the deep white  lit w ith flashes of cardinal red and black as birds flitted in the aftermath of storms , the bare-branched trees, and the winter silvery hue. And the smell of snow—part metal, part magic arriving on the wind. Icicles tapering, gleaming, more silver; beautiful and somehow cruel . Sleds, ice skates and toboggans.

There was something endless about the snow in my childhood. It was epic. Arctic. It was a hushed, buried world.

By January there were wind-swept drifts piled shoulder high and the snow kept coming, sparkling like diamonds under the streetlights. And, of course, mighty storms barged through, with drunken, wild winds and heaping drifts, burying landscapes. You knew that in the woods bears were hibernating and that knowledge felt as if you were in on the most primal and fabulous secret.

Ice was always underfoot no matter how hard you scraped with a shovel, and the cold wouldn’t lift. Snow prints crisscrossed the yard, the surface like lost maze walkers. Summer a far-off, distant land.

January required layers, endurance, and good humor. We were fueled with hot chocolate, oatmeal, soup, and casseroles.  The world within buildings was absurdly different from what lie outdoors.  Because of the cold we couldn’t tromp lost in our imaginings along a river or creek, because we’d get frostbite. And did.  When skating or sledding you were forced indoors at intervals because you couldn’t feel your fingers and toes. Really cold feet make it hard to stay balanced.

The cold like a force, our breath sharp in our throat and clouding high into the air.

Far from childhood, the Pacific Northwest’s climate is relatively mild. The wet–not constant with climate change–encourages books and blankets, maybe a puzzle, a pot of soup to assemble and nurture. Inward habits and pastimes. But still  the habits of winter.

Even we’ve recently unwrapped a calendar or planner or app, this month is designated for deliberate slowness. Almost everything we care deeply about, we accomplish with some nimbus of slowness and deliberateness, whether it is crafting a poem, tending a garden, or baking a pie. “The greatest assassin of life is haste,” said the poet Theodore Roethke. And yet so many of us feel rushed, overwhelmed, and time pressed.

For writers perhaps there is a lesson to be learned from a true January and a true winter. When the world is cloaked in mystery and time unspools in many hours of darkness, allow the quiet to sink in. Look inward as the season demands. And when the time is right, start anew, but with quiet and unhurriedness. As the stark midwinter dawns, you might want to begin the day with candlelight, silence, and solitude and end the day by tidying up, clearing away to face the next dawn with a clean desk, an empty sink, and fresh steadfastness.

When you’re rested from the din and rituals and richness of the holidays, the shock of another year gathering before you, then gently, gently start pushing toward what’s next. A book idea or editing your NaNoWriMo project, finishing a short story collection, or polishing and submitting essays or poems. Maybe you need to read more or submit more or create a blog. Let it come to you like a midnight snowfall; the kind that hushes everything.

And like midnight snow, trust it will nudge your interest. Perhaps it’s a new project or rethinking a discarded one. Perhaps you’ll imagine a character who you’ll bring into your heart.

Trust that your what’s next is waiting. Trust that creativity happens in the quiet.

Imagine the possibility of silence.

But since it is January, a looking back and forward time, also push yourself toward untouched emotional territory in your writing. Let yourself really feel when you’re writing. We all have emotions deep made over the years. And we all need to call on them to make the writing authentic. Write with recognition and memory and trust. Experiment.

Write in a notebook instead of your laptop. Write in bed, fresh from your dreams. Write as if you’re embodying your characters bone upon bone, with the gnawing grief or spite or rage or whatever emotion that needs to be channeled. Write from the body so your characters can be felt and known.

Find the intersections of theme and desire; push into the stream of a story.

If you neglected writing over the holidays–and who can blame you–invite your writing back like an old friend. It’s time to find inspiration using untried methods, to rejuvenate what has been set aside and invite in originality. And carve out time for nothingness. If possible let a fire roar, and simply sit and gaze into it and allow heat and time wash over you. Allow yourself to feel fragile or tender or soft. And then start writing.

It’s also the perfect month to try out and change your daily routine, to create new writerly rituals. You might want to think back to all the risks you’ve taken and how they turned out. What small changes can lead to big results? Should you vow to finish each project before starting a new one? Should you enter competitions? Dust off an old manuscript and determine if it’s worth reviving?

January is also a good month to dial down your time on social media sites. You don’t need to be so connected all the time. It will all be there in February–now that’s a month for bringing into being.

And yes, it’s a good time to make fresh resolutions, acknowledge intentions– but they need to be linked to your values.

What do you want to give the world and how will your writing accomplish this?

The rest of the year can be spent worrying about your kids, health concerns, distant wars, and hometown troubles.  This is the month for finding your original fire.

I wish you hushed and happy New Year.
No portion of this column may be reprinted without permission.

Line by Line Workshop on November 10

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Oct• 31•12

Line by Line: How to Rewrite, Rework & Reword taught by Jessica Morrell
November 10, 9-5 Tabor Space, 5441 S.E. Belmont, Portland, OR Cost: $75
Every good writer is also an editor. The tough thing about self-editing is learning what to keep, what to lose, and what to leave well enough alone. This workshop will give you perspective on all of that. We’ll cover the all-important level of line editing—or how to make each sentence and paragraph sing, how to choose words for potency and resonance, and how to transform clunky sentences and paragraphs into smooth beauties. You’ll learn how to tighten baggy sentences, turn weak verbs into strong ones, and use parallel construction. We’ll be line editing examples throughout the workshop including the participants’ first paragraphs since everything hinges on them. The aim is to polish so the pages are not only easy to read, but a pleasure to read. Generous handouts and cheat sheets will be supplied. We’ll cover:
• How to line edit for elegant, powerful sentences.
• How to edit so that your manuscript appeals to today’s agents and editors.
• What to leave unsaid and how context shapes our decisions about language and imagery.
• 10 ways to give less than perfect sentences a makeover.
• How to wrangle word usage, looking out for misused words, overused words, crutch words, and words which do not belong.
• When to chop clutter and excess prepositions, amp up language, learn where to place emphasis and word grenades.
• How to spot flatness, lack of variety and lack of verve.
• How to retool the language throughout so that it’s more evocative.
• How to correct basic grammar and punctuation problems.

Jessica Morrell has been teaching writers since 1991 and works as a developmental editor, instructor, and writing coach. She is the author of Writing Out the Storm; Between the Lines, Master the Subtle Elements of Fiction Writing; Voices From the Street, The Writer’s I Ching and Bullies, Bastards & Bitches, How to Write the Bad Guys of Fiction and Thanks, But This Isn’t For Us: A (Sort of) Compassionate Guide to Why Your Writing is Being Rejected. She’s been a columnist since 1998, contributes to The Writer and Writer’s Digest magazines and anthologies. Described by a writing conference attendee as “a torrent of information” and by Natalie Goldberg as “an incredible teacher” her workshops are filled with practical information that can be immediately put to use.

To register: Contact Jessica at jessicapage(at)spiritone(dot)com
Space is limited and registration is required.

Bitter Truth #6

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Oct• 18•12

If you’re going to make it as a writer, you probably won’t be able to read mediocre or lousy writing. Now, reading is a subjective experience. Thus, what one reader finds mediocre another finds dazzling. If you’re serious about writing and publishing, you’re aware that a lot of mediocre gets published, and a lot of mediocre writers hit the jackpot with best-sellers, movie adaptations, and homes in Provence. It just plain sucks. (And please stop me before I write again about the oh-so awful Shades of Grey series. Call me jaded but I just don’t think there are that many beautiful virgins meeting creepy billionaires with a penchant for abuse. Call me jaded but I prefer my books to contain gorgeous sentences not strings of clunk.)

Now I realize that some advise writers to read the bad stuff too, that’s there plenty to learn from bad writing. I just don’t agree. I’m more in the Stephen King school of thought In Stephen King’s book of writing advice, On Writing, he compares the tools a writer needs to those a carpenter uses. He differentiates among the tools stored on the top shelf of your toolbox with fundamentals such as vocabulary, grammar and solid nouns and verbs with those on the lower shelves as instruments like description, dialogue, and theme. Before King elaborates on these instruments, he proclaims: “Reading is the creative center of a writer’s life.” And so while we read because we love getting lost in a story and because it’s as if we’re living two lives while we’re reading a novel or memoir, we also read with our critic’s sensibilities fully engaged.