November 1 Newsletter

A red-shoe prompt; October POLL: thoughts on finding and creating TIME to write... and #2 PEACE in writing--what does this mean?

Photo by Evgeniy Alyoshin on Unsplash

Happy Day-After-Halloween!

In the past week it suddenly feels wintry here. (Apologies to those here with other definitions and images of “winter”—and there are a number of you!)

I find any seemingly-sudden turn of season to be invigorating for creativity. Though in my case, it’s also serving as a reminder of my current deadlines. That’s okay: I’m enjoying the walks in crisper air. The chill is good for a tired mind.

Prompt

Jane M. sent along a wonderful photo taken by a friend, who gave her permission to share as our prompt this month. (Thank you both!)

You’ll see it on the prompt thread.

I’m curious as to the QUESTIONS this image evokes for you. Can you share those even before you begin to explore and write? What questions come to you—and what do you discard of them, and what do you pursue? Post ALL, if you dare, even the silliest or illogical. Let’s see if they spark for another. Or for you, later. Let’s make the questions part of the process.

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The poll for October was:

What do you need mostly in your writing life?

The answer was—overwhelmingly—TIME.

This archived post (below) goes back to the beginnings of The Unschool; it’s one of the earliest posts. But it has thoughts on “Time” in terms of writing at morning or night, through different seasons, and so on.

Optimal Writing Time

In addition to those ideas there is the securing of precious minutes here and there, the piece of discipline with making use of such time, the recognition of such moments, and developing an understanding of the types of time you need. Because sometimes “minutes” don’t cut it.

The type of time I need to re-write, for instance, is more concerned with the quality of “head-time.” I need a certain type and number of consecutive hours. And that can be much harder to find.

But balance… if you’re always waiting for consecutive hours, you might never write.

How to Make Time

Minutes can be found throughout the day. This type of multi-tasking is not for everyone, nor is it for sustained practice. Though I—rather stupidly, I’ll admit—have done both: sustained multi-tasking, with three children and FT employment outside of writing. I’ll admit that now, at 59, this has become problematic in different ways—but that would be another post; for now, it’s enough to say that this is NOT the optimal way to work.

There are times in life, or during the creating of a project, when it’s the only way.

One of the biggest time-vacuums is social media. It has a way of sneaking up on even the most vigilant. As artists, most of us—or many—need to use is as a significant promotion piece. Or at least, we convince ourselves so. But how much time is it taking from your writing?

I convinced myself that I need to be on Twitter in order to get out word of The Unschool as well as my memoir. I connected with ALS groups for the memoir and writers for the newsletter. About six months ago, I just couldn’t take the garbage there, and stopped. I focused on posting pieces about ALS and grief/loss on Medium. I had more direct contact with readers. And I don’t think that losing Twitter has cost me anything here for the newsletter; I’d rather put the same time into writing posts.

Have you timed your social media “use”? Or put a timer on it? Give yourself five minutes to post and ‘like’… and turn it off and get back to work.

Review all of your daily activities. If you need to read more, can you do audio books? Can you record plotting or “writing” while driving? (Or will you head into a red light? Again, multi-tasking can be over-rated!)

There’s a wonderful desk-like front to my exercise bike—I do a lot of reading as I cycle. I often close the book and use the time to think, too.

Are you struggling through a piece of plotting, or some thread? Can you put it to yourself as a question before you step into the shower or go for a walk? And let your mind, conscious or sub-, grapple with it?

How do you find “minutes” and “hours”?

And in second place…

Right after “time,” was a yen for “peace.”

What is “peace” for writing? A quiet space? No music, no chit-chat, no phones and alarms buzzing, no television or radio? No voices saying “Hey, Mom or Dad, can I … ?” or “Hey, you!”?

I speak of the sort of time I need for re-writes. There’s an element of “peace” here, too. Not peace in silence, necessarily—though that can go a long way.

But the type of peace that happens from a rested mind or—for me—a puttering mind.

There is nothing to replicate a day that is errand-free, a day of not having to be anywhere at any particular time. A day when I can work my way through it as I feel.

The ideal re-writing day is one in which I wake up and get up when I want, fill a thermos full of coffee, write until I’m hungry, use the eating-time as a break, write, shower when I get stuck on something (or a break), continue on until I feel like riding the bike or going for a walk. Maybe poke away at things like laundry, or cooking something… as I feel like it! Nothing that’s a “must do.”

THIS for me is “peace.”

If you’re responsible for young children or caring, or some form of other employment, you may have to plan for such times, or carve them out of early hours, or even late hours, if you must.

When my boys were young I could work in the midst of a shocking amount of “noise” but had to find this inner peace—the peace of being errand-free. At that time, I would plan to have certain tasks done, and the day before would have made enough food for a supply of leftovers. The thinking-ahead is worth it, for that sense of peace.

Do share your thoughts on this, and what you have done for both “time” and “peace.” And your definitions of both…

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Re-Cap of October posts

As always, we kicked off the month with the October first potpourri, followed by the monthly prompt— this one of anadiplosis and “bittersweet.”

October holds Canadian Thanksgiving. For the third year now, I wrote a piece about gratitude—and was grateful for the opportunity. It surprises me—honestly—how pushing at myself to think about “gratitude” in relation to writing has become an addition to my working-practice. So often, I see only mountains of work ahead of me. But I am blessed and it’s good to stop and ponder that.

I re-published a piece about “Insider Questions About MFA Programs” as it’s the time of year—for the most part—for applying, if one is thinking about such. I was surprised by the numbers of responses/thoughts. Joshua Doležal, who writes The Recovering Academic responded, as did David Perlmutter who writes Made From What’s Not Real, Arthur Meek, writer of Citizens of Nowhere, Annette Laing, historian and writer of Non-Boring History, Latham Turner writes Get Real, Man, and Jolene Handy, who writes Time Travel Kitchen (and makes birthday cakes for The Unschool!)

And of course, I had to write about “Monsters”—Happy Halloween, and all! This will be a day late, but with monsters all around all year round, it’s always timely.

I took a class with Ian Weir—a wonderful novelist and dramatic writer—some years ago. And saw him as a visiting author years before that. (I also had a conversation with his mother, ages ago, a children’s author, who said she would call her son for story and plot advice… which I thought was just right!) I was a young writer the first time I heard him speak, and thought hard about his words and advice to

“write about what scares the shit out of you!”

Words I’ve remembered and thought about. Monsters take many sizes and shapes, and hide in many places within and without.

The final post for October was an insider-view of my re-writing process at this point, with a middle-grade historical novel. It’s a longer post than usual, and looks at what it is to dig into an editor’s feedback while listening to the story itself; what it needs, along with scrutiny of what is the emotional core of a story, and what is the nature of a “hook.” I hope you found—or find—it illuminating.

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Workshops

We’ve had one picturebook come in during October. Take a look if you’re a paid subscriber, and post one thought; the process can be cumulative.

And if you have any work for which you’d like feedback—fiction, poetry, nonfiction, picturebook—please email it to me to post.

alison@alisonacheson.com

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Archived Post

From Fall 2021 — this was a series of prompts for a “mini-course” in “holiday” writing. The prompts are useful at any time.

Happy November Writing!

Alison