Category: editing

Happy New Year!

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Happy New Year! I hope you had a nice Christmas and New Years. We had a pretty quiet one, I think we’re all waiting for a sign that 2021 will go easier on us.

It’s day two of the new year and it seemed like a good idea to print out all I’ve written of The Naked Ladies Writing Group so far.

After I printed it out, I read through it with a highlighter pen and cringed more than once. It’s a first draft and they are always horrible, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to see the mistakes I’ve made.

It’s obvious that changes will benefit the story, but when you see where changes need to happen, you wonder how you didn’t see it in the first place. It’s so easy to beat up on yourself.

When you’re writing, you have to trust what you come up with in the moment, and get it written down. Overthinking can kill creativity.

As I write my first draft on my blog, I’m going to have some regrets. The idea that I’m putting imperfect work out there for the world to see is a bold one.

I’m what they call a ‘pantser’, which in the writing community refers to a writer who writes the first draft without plotting or planning, by the seat of our pants.

As the new year lies before me and my first draft calls my name, I’m tempted to take a wander in the land of the plotters. Maybe just plan out the chapters? Write a few pages outlining where the writing needs to go to tell the story I want to share.

But no, I don’t seriously consider giving up my pantser style. What will I write next? Who knows? Probably something that will need some serious editing later on.

Bring it on, 2021, this pantser has a story to write. I can’t wait to see what comes out of my fingers and onto the screen this week.

Say hi on Instagram at: @rachelgracewrites

Join our writing tribe on Facebook at: Women Writing a Book In 2021

Good luck with your writing!

The Naked Ladies Writing Group part 7

Published on by rachelkeerieLeave a comment

NOTES: Conflict time! I was meant to be writing the follow on from the section where the women were at Fia’s house and they were ready to start the very first meeting of The Naked Ladies Writing Group, when I had this powerful idea about Fia and a male entrepreneur and what he wanted from her and what she thought of that, so I had to get that started.

Fia had a brunch booked with another entrepreneur, which was the main reason she’d stayed sober last night. This guy had sought her out to see if they could do some work together. She was out the door and in her car by nine am. It wasn’t always a good idea to meet up with people who found her through the blog, but this guy seemed to know his stuff and Fia’s interest was piqued.

NOTES: who is this guy, the entrepreneur??? Name? Maybe Lance or… Zander, yes Zander Sharp. Haha I love that name.

She parked five blocks from the cafe, and knew she was lucky to find a space so close. Sundays were busy in the city, seriously busy people seeking coffee and maybe a croissant. Fia had never been to this cafe before but she wasn’t surprised to find every footpath table taken.

“Fia?” A tall man inside the cafe waved.. Fia waved back and made her way inside to his table.

“Hi,” she said, taking the chair he offered her.

“I’ve ordered our coffee already,” he said. Fia opened her mouth to question him, as in how did he know what kind of coffee she preferred? “I’ve been on your website this morning, to prepare for our meeting and in your bio it says you like a piccolo latte.”

“That’s exactly right,” Fia said, feeling mixed emotions. Sure, it was impressive that he’d done his research, but she’d forgotten that when the blog was rewritten, her assistant had asked a few personal questions, so she could seem warm and friendly. She preferred to feel like she had the upper hand in meetings, especially meetings with important new contacts.

“No mention of coffee on your website, that I saw.” She said, smiling to cover her awkwardness.

“I am a complete coffee addict,” he said. “Would you like something to eat as well?”

“No, thanks, coffee will be fine.” She said.

“I have an idea that would benefit both our businesses,” he said.

“Go for it,” she said.

“As you know, I own the biggest ? In the country. I employ fifteen people in my content creation section alone. They keep my many blogs and websites going, popular, and selling what we want to sell.”

Fia nodded and smiled as the waiter placed her little piccolo in front of her. She tore the top off a packet of artificial sweetener and added it to her coffee.

“You’re doing well.” She said.

“We are,” he said. “And I have an itch to grow in an area where you are doing well.”

Now he had her attention. His statement had the edge of a threat, or was she being paranoid?

“Keep going,” she said.

“I would like to not only branch out, but buy you out, as a starting point from which to dive off from.”

Fia wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “Buy my company?” She said.

“I have a very generous offer in mind,” Zander finished his coffee and placed the glass back on its saucer. “Really generous. Considering how long you’ve been in business, how long since you really started to succeed.”

“You’ve been in business six months longer than I have, no longer.” She said, not even attempting to cover her irritation.

“I’ve hit a nerve, I can tell.” He said, holding his hands out in front of him. “Absolutely not my intention to offend or irritate you. The opposite really.”

“Why do you think I’d sell my company?” Fia said, crossing her legs.

“Nothing you’ve said or done has made me think that.” Zander shook his head. “I had an idea, I jumped at the chance to speak to you about it. I don’t want to put you out of business, unless I buy what you’ve already built up.”

“Put me out of business?” Fia had to calm herself before she said something unprofessional. “I love my company,” she said. “It’s a part of me, I grew it from nothing, up to what it is now.”

“Yes,” Zander said, leaning forward. “And what it is is a truly valuable asset. One that I believe I can grow exponentially in the coming year.”

“What makes you think I can’t grow it exponentially in the coming year?” Fia said. “How do you know that’s not my plan?”

“Oh, I have my spies,” Zander said, sitting back in his chair and lifting his left foot up to balance on his right knee.

“Spies?” Fia was shocked. “Spies in my company do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you a name, but yes Fia, someone in your own company who knows you’ve gone about as far as you can go alone. I haven’t even gotten to the generous salary package I’d offer you to stay on and run things, on top of the purchase of the business itself.”

Fia was doing a fast inner inventory of her staff. Who would do this? Everyone seemed so loyal. To her face at least. She’d fire all of them. Every single one.

“Zander,” she said. “You don’t know me. We’ve never met before. So I’ll excuse you for thinking I’d sell to you, because whoever you’ve been talking to is wrong. I’m far from finished with FiaQuinn.”

“It’s a cute name,” Zander said. “Your company has been on the verge of becoming the biggest of its kind for a year. Why do you keep dipping your toe in the ocean and then running back to the pond? What are you waiting for? I think you’re waiting to find someone to partner with who is completely at home in the ocean.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Fia said. “I love where I’m at, what I do, and the way we are growing.”

“Zsharp can help you, it’s as simple as that.” Zander said.

Fia was thinking about throwing the table over, smacking him in the face and walking out. It was hard to concentrate on formulating a reasonable reply.

“Who have you been talking to in my office?” She said.

“I can tell you, because they are leaving you to join my team,” Zander said. “It’s Cassie Wilson.”

“Cassie?” Fia said, her mouth staying open in surprise. “I can’t imagine,”

“You can imagine,” he interrupted. “Cassie has been trying to get you to listen to her for months, trying to suggest changes, growth strategies. You didn’t listen to her, and now she’s bringing her brilliant mind to Zsharp.”

“You reached out to her?” Fia said.

“Yes, I did the reaching out, but she was ready to go,” he said. “You should be proud of her, she nailed down a mean deal with me.”

“Go her,” Fia said. “You know what they say, once a deserter, always a deserter. You can never trust her.”

“I’m sure she’ll be great for as long as she works with us.” He said. “I don’t believe in holding onto people if they want to move on. Neither should you.”

“I’m not saying another word right now,” Fia said. “Good luck to you.” She left the cafe and made it to her car, where she turned the air conditioning on and made a phone call. Cassie answered on the first ring.

“Hi,” she said, sounding very different to Cassie from the office.

“Cassie,” Fia said. “I’ve just spoken to Zander.”

“He messaged me,” Cassie said. “There’s no point calling and chewing me out.”

“Not what this call is about,” Fia said. “I want you to stay.”

“You what?” Cassie said. “You want me to stay?”

“You’re a brilliant woman, an essential part of the team. Please stay, we can talk about a new salary package. I want to hear your ideas, I’ve been slack obviously.”

“I don’t know about this,” Cassie said. “I wasn’t expecting this. I thought you’d have people packing up my desk by now.”

“You underestimate how much we need you, how much I need you. You’re gold, your ideas are so different to mine, I need that, even if I don’t agree to implement every single one.”

There was silence on the other end and Fia knew she was in with a chance.

“Can we talk?” Fia said. “Like, now?”

More silence, and she let Cassie think.

“Okay,” Cassie said. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind.”

“No,” Fia said, taking a deep breath. “Can I come over?”

“No, I can leave the kids here with Curtis, let me come to yours.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, just leaving the cafe.” Fia said.

“See you soon, then.” Cassie said and ended the call.

When Fia pulled up at home, she couldn’t remember the drive, she’d been too busy going over every conversation she’d had with Cassie recently. There had been ideas she’d rejected without enough thought. There was definitely room for her to grow as a boss, and she was going to convince Cassie to teach her.

NOTES: Now I’m writing the first group meeting of TNLWG. How is it possible that characters I create, surprise me?

The Naked Ladies Writing Group part 6

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NOTE: I’m sorry if this block of writing seems a little disjointed, I needed to get Fia’s home from inside my head onto the page. Now I can copy some of the description into my book bible for future reference. Enjoy!

Fia’s home was an inviting nest decorated in warm blues and soft golds. Her furniture looked cared for and cosy, and there were small framed paintings on almost every wall. In the entry area there was a hall stand painted the palest caramel, a navy blue umbrella with a gold duck head in one side and a gnarled old walking stick in the other. On the tiny shelf between the two, sat a faded photograph in a white frame, a tiny bowl filled with marbles and a tea light candle in a glass cup.

There were polished floorboards throughout the house, and Fia had placed soft rugs in neutral colours on the floor in each bedroom. 

From the entry, you could turn right and enter the roomy second bedroom that was decorated in a soft, pastel lilac colour, or turn left and walk directly into the lounge room. Fia always felt it was a flaw in the design that the previous owner had removed walls and taken away the old hall that had gone from the front door to the back door.

Visitors always had to walk through the main lounge room on their way to the kitchen, dining room and open living area.

Once you’d made your way to the back of the house, you were treated to the experience of the green room, as Fia called it. Running all the way across the back of the house and as deep as a bedroom, the green room was filled with lush, healthy indoor plants. From huge pots containing tall greenery to a vintage drinks cart topped with orchids and violets, the room was an impressive way to say hey, I have a green thumb.

A cane chair with a woven peacock back, as tall as the doorway, sat in pride of place at the furthest left wall and wore a stuffed cushion in emerald green. To the right, among the leaves, was a plain, functional park bench with two white cushions. A book lay on the bench, with a bookmark hanging out of the top.

The green room drew you to it so powerfully, that it was possible to miss the entry into the remaining hallway that led to the master bedroom, complete with ensuite, and walk-in wardrobe, three more bedrooms, the main bathroom, a decent sized laundry room and generous built-in cupboards.

Each bedroom was decorated in a different pale pastel colour, with the main being painted Fia’s favourite colour, blue. The others were lemon, peach and green. The main bathroom was all white, with stainless steel taps and fittings. Soft, white towels were stacked on shelves and a delicate fern in a wooden bowl softened the harshness of the room.

The third bedroom, decorated in peach, had the largest window and made a perfect home office. Fia did a lot of videoing in there, with her chair pulled up to the desk that faced the window.

She’d carefully decorated the wall behind her with simple things that wouldn’t distract from whatever message she was delivering. There was a bookcase, a fern in a basket, on a small table to the left and a framed quote on the right.

Her street was pretty quiet, thankfully, so she was able to record video’s whenever it suited her. She generally worked from home every Wednesday, recording a series of video’s, ready for her editor Clair to cut, add intro and extro, and splice in b-roll footage, which was recorded at the office and specific to the content. Clair made it seem so easy, that Fia never once doubted her choice to employ someone to do this task for her. Clair was a good amateur photographer as well and depending on the weather, would go out taking still photo’s for promotions and social media. Some days she texted Fia before work, asking her to bring in a certain outfit so she could wear it in photographs she had planned. The first time she’d done this, Fia had thought it a bit odd, and to be truthful, a bit much, until she’d seen the images. Then she’d told Clair to do it any damn time she pleased.

Her desk in the city office was the best place for ideas and research. Being in the office with her team gave her energy. She loved the way the team bounced ideas off one another, although like any boss, she was sure they could all breathe easier on her Wednesdays at home. Having the boss around had always changed her work flow, when she’d been the one who was employed.

Mia woke up with a doozy of a headache and a sick stomach. She wished she’d stuck to wine, or beer, or cider, because mixing the three had not been a great idea. Ruby had stuck to her like glue, which was starting to be a regular thing. Ever since Ruby had fired her last boyfriend, fired, her word, she’d been at a loose end and that never went well for Mia.

She lurched from the bed to the bathroom and put in some time leaning over the toilet bowl. Not a good look for a modern woman, she thought. Once she could stand without swaying side to side she took a long, hot shower. She hated to get out, but it was necessary.

She scrunched her hair as she held her hairdryer to it, creating long, wavy volume. Sunday hair, she thought.

She was determined to leave the house before Ruby showed up with some urgent reason for the both of them to spend another entire day together. Mia didn’t want to hurt Ruby’s feelings, although lately she’d begun to wonder if her friend had any feelings, other than anger and determination.

Mia noticed that last night she had attempted to set out clothes for today and had failed terribly. It was Sunday, so jeans and a pretty shirt, white runners, hair in a band, and her new yellow purse were in order. What she found draped on the soft chair in the corner of her bedroom was a black lace g-string, the t-shirt she’d worn to help Fia paint her house, a starched black pencil skirt and a pair of hot pink fluffy socks.

Mia shook her head and put each item away in her wardrobe. As she dressed she heard her phone receive two messages. No, no, she thought. I can make it.

She grabbed her purse, put her phone in it without checking her messages and made it out of the flat and into her car. She was cheering to herself as she put the car in reverse and looked in her rear view mirror. She backed out of her parking spot and drove into the street, joining the rest of humanity intent on enjoying as much of their Sunday as possible.

This really is the first day I’ve had to myself for a couple of weeks, she thought, and merged onto the road that led to the highway. A perfect opportunity to visit that gallery I’ve been meaning to get to, down the coast.

Mia turned the radio on and settled in for the drive.

Ruby couldn’t get onto Mia by phone, and it was driving her crazy. She’d almost hit a stupid bike rider who was taking up half her lane.

She had to get to Mia’s place before that woman went off doing some random thing. Left to herself, Mia could be very basic. Ruby felt it was her responsibility to make sure Mia learned how to be a real, modern woman and what better way to teach her than to show her by spending as much time together as possible. Now that Ruby didn’t have that loser boyfriend anymore, there was more time for Mia.

Her car wasn’t in her car space. Where was that woman, and why wasn’t she answering her phone? Ruby drove her car into Mia’s spot and punched her steering wheel. Maybe she was at the shops, grabbing a few groceries. Or visiting her Nanna in the eastern suburbs. Maybe she was visiting Fia, yeah, that would be it. Mia put the car in reverse and backed out, waited for the street to clear both ways and turned right.

Ashleigh and Ryan were up early with matching hangovers. Ryan had to work and Ashley had to drive him there or have no car all day. Ryan jumped into the shower and Ashley fried up bacon and eggs for sandwiches on the go.

“I need my own car,” Ashleigh said with her face in her hands.

“You used to have your own car,” Ryan said, picking up the sandwiches, which Ashleigh had wrapped in aluminium foil. “You sold it to save money.”

“I hate saving money, I want to sleep in. Argh.” Ashleigh said. “You drive us there, I’m sleeping.”

Ryan led the way out the door, grabbing his keys off the hall table. “You’ve got your keys?”

“Yes,”

“Your phone?”

“Yes,”

“Your bag?”

“No”

NOTE: Thanks for reading my blog.

The Naked Ladies Writing Group part 5

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Fia was almost asleep when her phone chirped with a message. It was Ash, thanking her for a great surprise birthday. Fia replied with happy emojis and hearts. She spread out across her queen sized bed and went to sleep.

It was just as well that Fia’s cleaner came on Wednesdays, it made Fia more confident about having everyone over. The cleaner, Stacy, ran a tight ship and once Fia called and told her what was happening, Stacy reassured her that the house would be sparkling.

When Fia got home from work on Wednesday, there was even a tall vase filled with native greenery and flowers on the dining table. Beside it was a note, in Stacys handwriting. It urged Fia to check the fridge and when she did, she found a plate crowded with chocolate cupcakes, frosted and sprinkled. Stacy, you are an angel, Fia whispered to herself.

If you don’t have time for deep cleaning and baking, you should have a Stacy, Fia thought as she took the plate of cakes out of the fridge and placed them onto the bench to come to room temperature.

Wednesdays were usually a light day at work, and today had been typical.

NOTE: I haven’t decided what Sofia does for a living yet, and I need to do that. She lives in a house that she owns, I think I want her to have been that kid who saved every cent from an early age, and got a job as soon as she was old enough, like that, so that by age thirty she lived in a nice house in the city with a large but doable mortgage. So, maybe she works in finance? Oh, maybe she’s a stock market whiz? Or maybe she was, then she hopped on the YouTube trend and set herself up with a few passive income streams. I like that. Yep, she’s a YouTuber, but she’s set up so if YouTube ever dies, she has other income.

Today, maybe because it was quiet at the offices, Angus, Fia’s social media manager, had dragged the design and copy people into Fia’s office for an impromptu meeting on the decor of the place. When they’d moved into the warehouse space, it had been all go, with no time to call a painter, let alone a decorator, but now they’d been in there for six months, they felt it was time that the space reflected the brand.

Fia had agreed completely and stunned her employees by handing the job of sourcing a decorator and controlling the entire process over to them.

“If you’d like to choose everything yourselves,” She had said. “Go ahead. Or if you’d prefer to pick a decorator and hand the reigns to them, do it. I’m happy either way.”

Her people knew her well, they would make the space fantastic and they’d make choices that she would approve of.

She jumped into the shower, then chose an outfit, then changed, and changed again. Apparently she was more nervous about this than she’d realised, which was strange because she’d barely given tonight a thought. She settled on jeans and a Pink tour t-shirt. Bare feet and she simply pulled her hair back into a pony.

“You-hoo,” came a voice from the front of the house. “You forgot to lock the front door again.” Ashleigh said, putting a canvas bag on the floor next to the single seater lounge chair in the living room. “I thought I’d better be here first, I am first, yes?”

“Yes, you’re first.” Fia said.

“Oh those flowers, you shouldn’t have.” Ashleigh touched a flower.

“I didn’t!” Fia said “Stacy did.”

“That woman is wonderful,” Ashleigh said.

“If it wasn’t for Stacy we’d be sitting on dusty boxes.” Fia said.

“Don’t I know it.” Ashleigh said. “Here’s my food offering.” She lifted a cake box out of the canvas bag and lifted the lid so Fia could see rows of tiny quiches. “We can eat them cold.”

“Not really Italian,” Fia said, taking the container into the kitchen.

“Where do you want us?” Ashleigh said. “Table or lounge?”

“You’re in charge, and don’t pretend you’re not. You choose.” Fia said.

“I choose the lounge for tonight, then see if that works.” Ashleigh pulled a stack of notebooks out of her canvas bag. “I bought notebooks for everyone in case people forget to bring something.”

“You’re a control freak, you know that right?” Fia said.

“Haha Ms empire builder,” Ashleigh said. “Not sure I can take the crown for that.”

“I don’t control, I build.”

“Ah, sure.” Ashleigh looked around the loungeroom like she was seeing it for the first time. “I think I’ll sit on the floor there. That way there are enough seats for everyone else, assuming they show up.”

The sound of car doors closing sent Fia to the front door. She opened it to find Ruby giving Mia a whispered talking-to, pretended she hadn’t noticed and ushered them in. Headlights appeared at the end of the drive just as she was about to shut the door and so she waited for Alice to park her black VW beetle.

“Fia, I hope Ashleigh won’t mind but I’ve brought a friend from work.” Alice said. “This is Betty, she’s one of the editors and she’s writing her own book at the moment, isn’t that a coincidence?” She wrapped Fia in a hug and pulled her workmate into the house.

“Everyone, this is a friend from work,” Alice said.

“Oh, I didn’t know we were inviting anyone we wanted,” Ruby said.

“Chill, Ruby.” Ashleigh said.

“Hi all, I’m Betty,” Alice’s friend said. “I hope there’s a corkscrew in the house because this needs opening.” She held up a bottle of wine, waggling it, looking out from under her thick, black fringe, from person to person.

“Charming,” Ruby said. “We’ll want to keep a clear head for writing, am I right?”

“Haha,” Betty said, throwing her head back and laughing. “Good one. Our best work happens when we’re relaxed. A little wine won’t hurt at all, I promise.”

“Is that your professional opinion then?” Ruby took Mia by the arm and pulled her over to the two seater couch. “This looks like us, buddy.”

“Pretty much,” Betty said, and she held out the bottle to Fia. “This does not need to breathe.”

Fia laughed with her and went to the kitchen to get a corkscrew.

“This house is the best,” Betty said. “Retro and shabby, oh look, birds!” She had noticed Fia’s little collection of bird ornaments.

“Yes, kind of old-fashioned if you ask me.” Ruby said.

“This one is Art Deco, so pretty.” Betty said. I have a similar bird on the tattoo on my back.”

“Oh really?” Mia said. “I’d love to see that.”

“Sure,” Betty said.

“We’re here for writing,” Ruby said. “Not tattoos or ornaments.”

“Okay people, put your food in the kitchen, then back to the loungeroom.” Ashleigh said and Fia was relieved that Ash had taken charge. It seemed like Ruby was winding up for one of her tantrums.

Once everyone was settled, Ashleigh laid out her plan for Wednesday nights. Arrive at seven, eat and catch up for twenty minutes, then settle in for writing talk, reading work out loud, critique and end with plans for the following week.

Betty was the only stranger to the group, so Fia asked her to introduce herself.

“I’m Betty, well Elizabeth originally, I’m from Perth, I’m an editor at Howden House, I like a kind of rockabilly grunge aesthetic, tattoos, and I’m writing my own novel. It’s a fantasy story about two very different women and their journey of self discovery.”

“Thanks Betty, that sounds really interesting.” Ashleigh said.

Fia looked around the group, watching reactions to the newcomer.

“We should all introduce ourselves,” Fia said, looking to Ashleigh. “For Betty, really.”

“Okay,” Ashleigh said. “Your home, you start.”

NOTE: it’s time for me to research the look of each character and write facts about each one in my story bible. I will start by rereading everything I’ve already written and taking notes. I love this part of writing a book.

I just ate lunch and spent an hour on character development, and I’ll write what I’ve decided in my next post. When I write fiction, I choose a celebrity I know from tv or movies for the personality and voice, and this makes life so easy when I think of my character and go to put words in their mouths. The way I choose to write each person never ever comes out exactly like the person I chose to base them around. It’s more like a hook, a quick way into the mind and heart of my characters. I then choose an image from the internet to represent the physicality of each character, although this time one of my characters will be set after a certain celebrity in manner as well as looks.

I’ve been unhappy with the way I’ve written my main character so far and it’s because I hadn’t done this characterisation process. She will pop now, well not pop, but she will come to the fore as the main character. I hope.

Mind My Creative Writing Muse She is Telling Me How To Write a Book

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I’m Freaking Out

That’s right, reader, I’m going crazy imagining what the half a dozen people who might have read my novel so far, are thinking about me. I mean, what sort of lunatic writes a book on a blog? And we’re not talking the finished, polished product, no, no, we’re talking the first draft, all iffy and basic.

Somebody Stop Me

Please, someone have a word with my Muse. She’s always been a tad looney, and now she’s got me doing this thing, putting myself out there for anyone, well all half a dozen of you, to shake your heads and wonder what the frag?

Your Basic Muse

Haha, no, my muse is anything but basic. In fact she’s ten times cooler than me and doesn’t put up with any of my excuses or whining. To look at, she’s somewhere between Harley Quinn and Frida Kahlo, yes I know, not what you’d expect.

Her name is Calliope, and she is generous when I sit myself in front of my writing, any writing, and commit to getting the work done. She keeps me going, encourages my ideas and makes sitting alone in a room writing words a bit less lonely.

She guards my imagination and creativity against her writing partner, my Inner Editor.

My Inner Editor

Only once the first draft is written does Calliope disappear, off to do whatever imaginary friends do when you don’t need them. Then my Inner Editor cracks his knuckles and expects free reign over my writing. He pushes me to be logical, truthful and at times brutal about my writing, deleting what is unnecessary, improving what is essential.

Before My Muse and Editor Knew Their Places

– I used to write without acknowledging the importance of separating a first draft from an edit.

– I would try to write my best work right away.

– I put terrible pressure on myself to get it right in one go, and I thought that if I was any kind of decent writer, surely that would be the way it’s done.

This doesn’t work for me, even though a lot of my first draft will end up in the finished piece in one shape or another.

Reading About Writing

I read some books about writing:

On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King

Becoming A Writer by Dorothea Brande

Living The Writer’s Life by Eric Maisel, Ph.D.

How I Write: Secrets of a Bestselling Author by Janet Evanovich

I learned a lot reading these books, and none of them told me I had to get the words right in the first draft. Each author had their own way of writing and a lot of it was about showing up to the work on a regular basis.

The separate tasks of a writer became clear to me:

– writing

– rewriting, a lot

– editing

– proofreading

This seemed logical, which I liked, but a little bit cold, and I do love words and writing, so I decided to invite a fun, cool imaginary friend to help me with the first draft writing; my Muse, Calliope, and somehow by default she brought along a kind of parental and somewhat perfectionist Inner Editor. He’s jacket and tie and all business, and when I need him that’s fantastic.

For Calliope…

I know that millions of people write without needing imaginary friends, but this way suits me. If one of you six or so readers think of me at my desk writing, I invite you to send a smile Calliope’s way. She’s too cool to care, but deep down I know she likes the attention.

I Can’t Write

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I can’t write. Do you feel like this? I want to write, but I can’t. It’s so hard to admit this when you have the heart of an author. I can help you to reframe this statement, to sneak your way around it, give it some meaning so that you can make it work for you. I know this sounds unlikely, but awareness is the first step to change and getting to the crux of why you’re not writing is the first step to writing.

Here are five things to say instead of ‘I can’t write’. I invite you to choose one and explore it in your writer’s journal. Did you say you don’t have a writer’s journal? I can’t believe you. I hereby give you permission to buy a gorgeous new journal, specifically to be used as your writer’s journal. Write your name in the front of it and get ready to use it daily. I’ll give you some ideas for that, too. First, here are some other ways to say ‘I can’t write’.

1. I can’t think of anything to write today. Okay, you can’t find words to put on paper or screen right now, on this day, so write that. I can’t write today. I can’t speak for tomorrow or next month, only for today. You never know what you might be able to do tomorrow.

2. I’m too busy to write today. Your life is so full, that you simply do not have a spare hour a day to write. You’re flat out living the life you’ve created for yourself and there is no time to sit and write. It’s okay, we can address this and I have some suggestions for you, in another post coming soon.

3. I can’t write well enough to be published. You have ideas, dreams and maybe even goals, but you do not feel accomplished enough to write a word today. Not one useless word. That is a long way from not being a writer, it’s a mindset. I can give you a dozen reasons to start to write before you even begin to feel like you’re able. I’ll share my own story of feeling unworthy as a writer. Keep an eye out for a new post on that.

4. I can’t start to write because I have no idea how to finish my book. It’s not as though you have no idea how to begin, you just can’t see yourself finishing your book, so you don’t start. This is a problem, but not an insurmountable one, I promise. Watch this space.

5. I can’t decide which of my ideas I should write first. You have a whole lot of ideas, maybe you love some of them, you just can’t choose one. What a great problem to have, some writers would kill to be in this situation. That doesn’t mean I don’t understand the frustration you’re feeling, and I do have some ideas to share on this subject, coming soon.

Can you relate to one or more of these five ways of saying I can’t write? The one that tortures me the most is number four, not knowing the ending can really do my head in, and yet writing the ending first takes some of my writer energy out of me as I build a first draft. I’ll write about each of these five writer problems and create links in this post so you can see what I think will help you overcome each of these issues. In the meantime, grab that writer’s journal I recommended and explore the torture of not writing. I promise it’s a worthwhile action to take.

Writing

Published on by rachelkeerie2 Comments

When I wrote for other people, copywriting and ghostwriting, there was a need for privacy and it wouldn’t have been right to show the world that work which really didn’t belong to me. Now I’m writing for me, for fun, and I want to share my process with anyone who wants to watch and maybe even learn a bit about writing, the way I do it.

I have my own writing process, and I am looking forward to sharing it with you because I think you might like seeing my writing world. I know the story I want to tell, and my style falls somewhere in between writing to see how the first draft of the story fleshes out and compiling copious handwritten notes about the story as I plan to write it, characters, their names, traits and descriptions, places in the story, ideas about when and where a certain event between characters should take place and lots more. I’ll share photo’s of this journal as I write in it, to go with the writing I do. If there’s anything you can think of that you’d like to see, feel free to ask.

I’ll share the apps I use, the pens I use, the notebooks, as well as what time of day I feel the most productive, where I write and so much more. I’m completely open to suggestions and I’ll try almost anything to get my story written, so please don’t be a stranger.

Writing happens in three stages: writing, which is often called the first draft; editing, which is the second, third, fourth, fortieth draft; and proofreading which happens at the end of the process, to tidy up grammar and spelling. For now, I’ll be writing the first draft of my book and for your benefit I’ll be careful of spelling and grammar in a way I never have before in a first draft. I’ll make mistakes, and I know you will let me know, all I ask is that you be kind. Putting this process out there online is huge for me, and I’ll be waiting for those kind comments letting me know where I’ve messed up or where I’ve missed a predictive correction that went wrong.

I commit to posting one blog a week of first draft writing and one blog a week of writing information, answering questions, chatting about my process and how I feel it’s going, basically the writing life. In my very next post this week I will announce the name of my book and some initial information about the story. You can email me from here on my blog, and I hope to meet you on my Instagram at rachelgracewrites. Bye for now.

Rachel