1. Write anyway. What have you got to lose?

2. Bake bread. Not from a box or a mix. From scratch. Have you seen what goes into baking bread? Kneading, waiting, watching, wondering. Then you apply heat and hope it doesn’t suck.

3. Sing a song. One of two things will happen: you’ll either feel better or you’ll be so aghast at the sound of your own voice that even writing crap will seem more appealing.

4. Look at pictures of puppies. Smile.

5. Go to a bookstore. Get some coffee. Enjoy the ambiance. Then, pick up a few of the worst books you know of and read the first chapter. Two things can be gleaned from this: the recognition that you are a good writer (I’m sure you are) and the realization that terrible writers get published every day. Just plow through that block with whatever comes to mind. You can always change it later anyway.

Read your stuff out loud.

I’d even go so far as to say that if you can stand the sound of your own voice (I can’t — not yours, dear, but mine) read your work into a recorder. Play it back.

I recommend this because writers don’t change much between 5th grade and 30, I find. When told to read something aloud, a writer starts happily and everything is good until suddenly:

“And he walked down the street with a…fish…in his pocket. A fish in his pocket? That’s not right! What the hell does that even mean? What was I thinking?!”

Or (better yet):

“I can’t even read what I wrote here. Sorry.”

Hide under your desk and do it. Close your door. Catch those little things before your editor does (or worse, your mom). Actually forcing the words out of your mouth gives you an idea what they are going to sound like to others. The practice slows you down, gives you real focus on the ebb and flow of your nouns, verbs, consonants and vowels. You’ll realize that what you thought was a great scene of dialogue sounds like two people trying to have a fight in another language.

Like a symphony, it can look fantastic on paper, but if it isn’t beautiful to hear, you’ve lost.

We live in a world where notebooks are an endangered species. Pens are antiques. In this day and age of technology, it’s so much easier to get an idea, type it out and save it “forever.”

“Forever.” Ha. Ha…ha…ha…ha…oh. No. No.

Know your files.

On a basic note, figure out a naming scheme for your files so you can find stuff. I can’t even tell you how many things I can’t find because I just called it something like, “doodymcthunderpants.doc.” Preface the file with what it is, the working title and then a date. So, for example, “shortstory-doodymcthunderpants031812.doc” Long, yes. Will I find it, though? Yes.

Print out your drafts. There are two reasons for this: first of all, it allows you a physical copy to comment on, proofread, show off to your friends, use as TP when you’ve been abandoned in the Rockies. The other is because you’ll really want a hard copy to work off when your computer explodes.

And your computer will explode. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but your computer can decide at any point that it is no longer one for this world, generate a little extra heat to that CPU and bzzt. The End.

Late last year, my computer passed away. My husband and I built a new one from scratch. Bought all new parts, a new case. I highly recommend this “exercise” (it didn’t feel like one at the time). Know everything in your computer. Know how to recognize when things aren’t going well. And clean it. God. Once every 1-3 months. Every little bit of dust is another million degrees of heat.

And be ready. Because even if your computer is a really stable guy with two-and-a-half kids, a wife, a nice job and a great body…your computer can always have a pulmonary embolism.

Back. Up. Your. Shit. There are places online to do this. Now and then, I use Google Docs. I also have a MyBook external harddrive. I’ve also been printing. I email stuff to myself.

I’m excessive.

I urge you to be excessive.

Get a hobby.

Do something - anything - other than write. It doesn’t really matter what it is. If all you ever do is write, you will lose your mind. Writing is like being on fire. It will consume you in such a way that your words will explode in a sudden, flaring passion and then burn out. Ash.

When I was at a flash fiction group last night, an older gentleman who has become a new member of our crew asked me what I do in my free time.

In a horrified whisper, I gasped, “What free time?”

I tried to explain that between writing (60 hours a month, roughly 15 hours a week ideally) and working (40 hours a week at a major Medicare company — no, no, I assure you, it’s notthatinteresting) I don’t have much free time. It was one of the most terrifying conversations I’ve had in a long time.

I think that’s why I took another look at my bucket list. That’s why I decided next week to start running. The weather up here in Pennsylvania is unseasonably warm and pleasant. I want to get out a bit.

Having something else to do gives you a break. It allows you to get your butt away from your desk, to have something else to work on. It puts out the fire, hides the matches, makes you go outside. Be around people, if you can stand them.

It’s okay. You and your writing are in an open relationship. It doesn’t mind that you sneak out with that cupcake mix or that shady sketchpad. It wants some time away from you too.

urbfangirl asked: How do you name your characters? I'm afraid of using too personal of names for my characters that could make what I write more personal than intended. Like maybe I didn't mean to do it, it just happened and then there I am either ruining something that was good or reliving something that was bad (say, if it's a villain) - all because of a name.

This is a great question. Naming a character isn’t easy — it’s even less easy if you’re writing something that’s based off something that really happened or if you want to use a name that’s the same as somebody you know. It gets worse the more well-known that person is.

I try to use unfamiliar names myself. Even people who are supposed to be your-neighbor-next-door kind of people have names I don’t hear on a normal basis. For more extraordinary characters, I really go all out and give them a lot of thought.

Here are some tricks I use:

• Look up baby name meanings. Think what kind of character it’s going to be and give them a name that means that. It’s a particularly clever idea if it’s somebody whose nature and demeanor are completely different.
• If the character has something they are really good at or is a prominent trait, find a real person who is similar and base their name off that name. For example, a character in the novel I’m currently working on ends up being a crazy psychopath. Her name is based off a real female psychopath I looked up online.
• If you are basing a character off a mythical figure, play with that name and give it your own spin. Another example: another novel I’m working on is a horror story where I am basing a horrific female figure off the being Lilith. Her name at the start of the book is Lila, a Jewish name, which becomes Lillian.

If you absolutely have to use a name that you have some association with, here’s another idea I recommend: find a picture that resembles the character (not a picture you’ve taken of a friend — Google Image search. Random stranger.) and print it out. Put it with your notes. If you feel personal associations with the name getting in the way of your writing, take out the picture and just give yourself a second to say, “This is not the person I know. This has nothing to do with me.”

I hope this helps!

Keep an organized desk.

“No! My creative clutter! If I confine my million pieces of paper to notebooks or folders, or if I force my books onto shelves, or if I know where everything is…why, what kind of writer will I be?!”

A saner one.

Recently, I went to Staples and I bought this giant cube. That’s not really what it is, but it’s what I call it. It’s a square shelf with 3x3 square compartments. I forced my husband to put it together because I was sure I’d end up throwing it off the hill we live on. It is one of the best investments I’ve made in months.

You don’t have to go all out, but figure out places for things. It makes such an awesome difference when it feels like you can breathe again, when there isn’t a mound of receipts or to-do lists or low-carb cookbooks taking up your writing space.

My recommendation: make it a goal of picking up at least one thing every night. One single paperclip. One single sticky note pad. Find a place for it. Then get back to work.

If your desk is a real disaster area, there is another last-ditch idea. Grab a shoe box. Throw it all in. Stick it under the bed. I recommend against continuing this habit, though — if your bed is anything like mine, those boxes are going to disappear. They may even make friends with vagrant pests.

Don’t have time? Make some time.

I also recommend toys. I love having things to pick up and reminisce over when I’m stuck on a piece. Currently, my monitor is bordered by a set of Lord of the Rings figurines. They are both on horseback: the Nazgul and its steed, Gandalf and Shadowfax. They make me think of my father, and that makes me smile.

And don’t call my a hypocrite; I always know where my toys are.

Introduce yourself as a writer. Frequently.

For a long time, I wasn’t published. To me, this was practically being tossed down the stairs in the wrong direction. It was a terrible feeling for a person who wanted to be a writer as soon as they recognized their words on paper didn’t look too bad. I was routinely put into situations where people would shake my hand, bright smile on their face and say, “Oh! And what do you do for a living?”

I have, from the time I wanted to be a writer to now, been:

• a student
• a floor worker at a shop that sold glass pipes, CD’s, incense, weaponry and knick-knacks
• a waitress
• an office manager/DJ/editor/writer/accounts manager at a Student Media Center
• a quality auditor
• a call center rep for a power company and a Medicare carrier
• an assistant and agent at a bagpiping school/folk music agency

While some of these sound like interesting stories - and they all come with more than a handful - none of them rolled off the tongue in the same way that ‘a writer’ did. But how could I say that when I didn’t have a book to flash or something more than my college rag?

I tried it out with a stranger at Super Cuts. “Oh, what do you do?” she asked.

“I’m a writer,” I said. “I also have a certification in sky diving and breed Saint Bernards. And I may be distantly related to British royalty. Wealthy British royalty.” The lies, the lies, the lies.

I voiced this concern to one of the first people who introduced me to the idea of writing professionally. We had met at a creative writing class, and she had been nice enough to look at several pieces I had written and wanted published. “Oh, you’re a writer,” she had said, smiling, not even pausing. “You can go on ahead and say that. I mean, it’s obvious.”

It was what I needed to hear then, and that’s why I’m telling you now: if you’re a writer, you’ll know it. Go ahead. Even if all you have is a notebook full of half-hashed short stories. Even if your novel is just strands and strands of fortune cookie paper. Say it. You’re a writer. Shake someone’s hand and yell it in their face.

Not too loud, though. You don’t want to be that writer.

Read about writing. This includes grammar and other boring stuff.

Recently, I paid for the Writer’s Workshop subscription on Litreactor.com. By doing this, I gained access to about 36 essays written by Chuck Palahniuk. I’ve been working my way through them over the last 24 hours, and it’s been an incredible experience.

Now, I’ve read a lot about writing over the years. Bird by Bird, Room to Write, Wild Mind, currently The Right to Write. All good books for when a writer needs a hug and a gentle pat on the butt on the way back to the desk.

These essays kick you in the ass. They make you consider picking up a bottle. Whether that’s a vodka or wine for some heavy drinking, or just a weighted item to chuck at your computer, or a plastic container of something very flammable for your pile of writing…well, I guess that just depends on how creative you are.

They also make you think. They make you recommend them to other writers who are serious about making their work better.

Read as much as you can about your craft. For every flowers-and-rose-scented-Muse book you read, go through a desk manual on grammar. Start with the Elements of Style.

Most importantly, don’t freak out. Even if you’ve been breaking every other rule since you started submitting work, and a voice inside of you says of course nobody has accepted submissions from a hack like you. Take a breath, then carry on dancing.

Living is about growing. And that goes double for writers.

Be kind to others’ children.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been involved in several fiction and writing groups in the Pittsburgh area. It’s a good time, getting that chance to open up and share with others, give and receive feedback.

I encourage all writers to find a group of people who they feel will help their work get better. It may take time; I feel like I’ve established that sort of relationship with several people from my groups because we’ve been doing this for years now. A few tips, though:

• Know what you’re getting into. Do some homework. Ask people who are in the group or who have been a part of the group what types of writing people bring, what the standard etiquette is for attending (handouts or emailed a week before? Margin comments or specific questions?) and how people respond to certain types of criticism.
• Start out with something nice. I adhere to this rule adamantly, and when I’m discussing a piece of writing, I always go into what works first. There’s always at least one good thing. Find it. Let the writer know that you don’t think it’s complete garbage (even if it is).
• Be thoughtful. And by that, I mean, never say, “I liked it. It’s very nice/good.” For the love of God. Even worse, “I didn’t like. It just wasn’t my thing.” That does nothing for a writer. Why didn’t it work for you? What made it particularly effective? Back up your opinions.
• Acknowledge that there has been at least a decent amount of time put into every piece of writing. Even if it is complete drivel, he or she took the time to put the words on paper, bring copies or send it out and mentally prepared themselves to go under your literary knife. It’s all Golden Rule crap you’ve certainly heard before: play nice.

Turn that frown upside down. Always be grateful for what you have.

Recently, I applied for a freelance columnist position on a website I think is quite super keen. Quite super keen indeed with sprinkles. It was the first time I applied for a “real” writing position that required actual clips of my work and a cover letter and a resume. And there were quite a few moments as I was getting ready to throw my hat into the ring for this “real” job that I got “really” anxious.

“A monkey probably has more writing credentials that I do,” I found myself saying as I plowed through clips from six years ago. “God, did I really write this garbage? What was I thinking? What AM I THINKING?”

I continued shrieking even as I sent the email equivalent of what felt like the emailed equivalent of newspaper clippings pasted on construction paper with post-its and a handful of glitter.

It’s easy to start drowning in the horrible things you can say about yourself as a writer. Hell, the horrible things you can say about yourself as a person. Get a pen. Write some of those things down. Then get a magnifying glass and some tweezers and squeeze out the silver lining.

Here are a few of mine:

“I don’t have enough clips of my writing.” -> “I have a few clips. Some people aren’t published at all!”

“I am a horrible procrastinator. I’m not working nearly as much as I should be.” -> “At least I’m making some progress. Some is better than nothing.”

“My writing sucks.” -> “But I had a great time making it!”

“I don’t update my Tumblr enough.” -> “OH YEAH? 10 tips!”