Author: Nicole Luttrell

I'm a speculative fiction writer. That means I write about dragons, ghosts and spaceships. Sometimes I write about the ghosts of dragons on spaceships.

Cut These Things Out of Your Day

I’m sure you’ve all heard the jar analogy when talking about time management. If you have, feel free to skip the next paragraph.

If you haven’t here’s a brief overview of the story. You have a jar, a pile of large stones, a pile of small stones, sand and water. If you pour the water in first, of course, there’s no room for anything else. Same goes for the sand or the small stones. But, if you put the large rocks in first, then the small rocks, then the sand and finally the water, it all fits in. This analogy is pretty easy to break down. The big rocks are the most important things in your life, the little rocks are the second most important. The sand and water are the little things that fill our day up. For me, here’s how that breaks down.

Big Rocks- My family and my health, both physical and mental.

Little Rocks- My writing and my day job.

Sand- Horrible chores like housekeeping and errands.

Water- All my lovely little time wasters like social media, hand crafts, watching makeup tutorials and reading Buzzfeed.

When I first heard this analogy, I actually thought it was bullshit. No matter how I prioritize things, there are still 24 hours in a day. But I also knew that, every single day, there was more on my to do list than could ever get done. And I knew that, as much as I wanted to be a famous writer, I wanted to experience my monster’s childhoods more, not to mention still have a partner in my darling husband when they fly away. So, I decided that even if I lost all of my water and most of my sand, I had to get my big and little rocks into my jar.

As it turns out, though, when I started living by this basic principle, I really am fitting just about everything in. And man did I feel stupid, but it turns out that I can scroll Buzzfeed just as well when I’m tired, but writing my blog posts should probably be done when I’m fresh, even if I still think I’m too tired.

Some things did fall by the wayside, though. Or, at very least, they were dramatically reduced. If you’re struggling to fit writing into your day, here are some things that might not fit into your jar at all.

Social obligations that I don’t actually want to fulfill.

I have a lot of people in my life that I like a lot. They do things sometimes, and they invite me. I used to say yes to everything, thinking I would offend someone if I didn’t. Now, if I don’t have the time, or I just genuinely don’t want to go, I don’t. Major things I’ll sometimes make myself go to, because I’m learning the difference between ‘I don’t want to’, and ‘I might actually like this but my social anxiety is preventing me from saying yes’. But in general, it’s been a relief to not only be able to say, “I can’t,” and be surrounded by people who genuinely understand.

Chores no one but me cares about

My house needs cleaned. Stuff needs to have a home, dishes need to be done and laundry as well. But I think if we’re all honest with ourselves, some things do not need done as often as we do them. I’ve often found myself doing things because I thought it had been long enough since I’d done them, not because they actually needed done. My sheets are clean, and I don’t have any allergies. Unless we’ve been sick, they don’t need cleaned. My jeans don’t need cleaned after every use, which saves on laundry and water.

Basically, if I don’t think it actually needs done, it probably doesn’t.

Time management games

Now, this was a personal demon for me. Some people can play all these games like Candy Crush, Farmville and Tapped Out with no problem. They can play a little, and not have their whole day sucked into them. If you are that sort of person, you play those games my friend. I am the sort of person who can have a glass of wine and not finish the bottle, so I understand how you feel, and will not be the alcoholic telling everyone else to not drink at the party.

For me, though, it was an addiction. I played them way too much, as they are designed to make you do. I lose more time to them than I should. Thankfully, I never got into the habit of losing money to them.

Social media

This is not a demon for me, but I know it is for many people. In fact, no longer feeling obligated to read every single tweet in my feed was liberating. These days I take care of my own social media via Buffer, and hop on sometimes in the evening if I’m done reading Buzzfeed. (Usually I just cyber stalk Liev Schriber.)

Now look, I don’t want to demonize social media. If you find value in it, that’s great. But make it a reward. The Pomodoro Method is well adept to this. Say you’ve got some writing to do. Well, set a timer, write for 25 minutes, then spend five minutes scrolling twitter. Or if you’ve cleaned the whole damn kitchen, maybe you’ve earned some Facebook time.

I’ll even go a step further. If your separated from someone you love by distance, then social media might just be one of your big rocks. I have had many a night where a friend and I talked on Facebook. That’s great, and you should do it. I actually hate it when people downgrade chatting and texting as inferior ways to communicate with people. Why is that better or worse than calling someone? I think it’s just because it’s different, and there will always be people who distrust things that are different.

Feeling Guilty

I have this really bad habit. If I have a lazy day, or if I just get sidetracked by life, I get down on myself. I feel guilty. That guilt makes me feel bad, and since I don’t like feeling bad, I avoid the thing that makes me feel bad. Then, my stuff still didn’t get done, so I feel even worse.

The worst thing I do, is when I miss a day of writing, I tell myself I’ll make the pages up the next day. So, instead of expecting three pages from myself, I want to write six. Even if I get four or five pages done, I’m still not reaching my goal. Then, even though I did better in a day than I usually do, all the happiness from that is sucked right out of me.

If you skipped the housework, or didn’t get your pages done, don’t get down on yourself. Especially if you skipped a small stone for a big stone.

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Clarkesworld Magazine

This one’s a pretty standard science fiction market. A good one if you’ve got a solid science fiction story you’re looking for a home for.

Genre- Science Fiction and Fantasy

Word count- Not listed

Payout-10¢ per word for the first 5000 words, 8¢ for each word over 5000

Wait time- At least two weeks

Here is your list to the full submission guidelines.  Of course, it’s always important to read the the the guidlines in a market. But make sure that you do in this case, because they have a pretty extensive list of things they don’t want, including zombies and talking cats or swords. So check it out.

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How many drafts do you need?

It’s Throwback Thursday!

Nicole Luttrell's avatarPaper Beats World

This is a burning question, and I’ve seen people do it wrong both ways. Lots of people will write one draft, say ‘wow, this sucks,’ and toss it right out. Others will never get done with that first book, because they must make it perfect before they move on to any other project. Brothers and sisters, hear me; these are mistakes!

I shoot for four drafts, and a final polish. Each draft has a specific job, though. Here’s how you break it down.

Draft one-

My first draft is all about playing. I write whatever I want, pages of um, love scenes that never make it into the book. I write my outline, deviate from it, think of something better, and write that instead. I make up characters, throw them away, forget their names, rename them, decide love triangles, make up brand new plot lines, and sub plots, give characters…

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My Home Town

I want to talk today about my home town, Butler Pennsylvania.

Full disclosure, it’s not where I was born. I was born on a military base in Groton Connecticut. But I digress.

My great grandmother moved to America from Hungary with her parents when she was little. For some unknown reason, they decided to settle in Butler. They built a house, that my great grandmother lived in until the day she died. She raised my grandmother and my two great uncles there. My grandma ran away and raised four of her six kids in Connecticut. Then, she and my mother moved back here, grandma to raise the youngest two of my uncles, and my mom to have me.

Both of them have since moved back to Connecticut, leaving me here alone. I have no blood family in this town.

Butler isn’t known for much. We’re the birthplace of the Jeep, that’s about it. We’re an old coal mining town, and we used to be a steel town. We’re not in the Bible belt, but you wouldn’t know it from looking. My town is mostly Republican, and those Republican’s voted for Trump in the primaries. (We few Democrats voted for Bernie, though, so that’s a plus.)

Can I also add that we don’t have a Starbucks, Whole Foods, Ikea or Ihop. Trying to find fresh produce isn’t a thing that happens, and I can’t find a decent place to buy Indian spices anywhere outside of the Strip District.

So, if I wasn’t born here, I don’t like the politics here, and I’m frustrated by the shopping and food choices I have, why do I stay?

Because I have roots here.

I walk through my memories every day. This is only something that you’ll understand if you also live in your hometown. I was married in the middle of Diamond Park, where I played as a child and now take my monsters to play. Walking down Main Street I pass my first job, the bar I had my first legal drink in, the restaruant my mom used to run, the crappy apartment we lived in above the burger place. There’s the coffee place I used to go to with my friends in high school. There’s the coffee shop where I sat and scribbled a prayer over the first draft of Broken Patterns. My kids will go to the same high school I went to. I can see the hospital where my monsters were born from my back porch. Here is where my great grandmother is buried. Here is where I’ve had all but two of my birthdays.

Being from this town, I have a great appreciation for miners, and steel workers. They built this country, and were casually disregarded when no longer needed, left to choke to death on Black Lung and poverty.

I’ve seen Pittsburgh, our closest city and my favorite place on Earth, become a home for technology and medicine. We are also apparently becoming Hollywood South. (We were Gotham!)

Our dialect is unique, stranger than even our other Appellation towns. Gumbands, Sou’side, all that. Yinz know what I’m talking about.

People know me here, and for the most part they like me. They knew my mom, grandma and great grandma, too. Which means that some times I’m called ‘Becky’s daughter’, or ‘Mary’s granddaughter’. My husband’s the same way, and now that we’ve been married awhile sometimes I’m getting ‘Denise’s daughter in law’.

There’s something great about that, though. I don’t have a lot of family, and I don’t talk to most of what I have. For much of my life I’ve felt sort of like a tree with very shallow roots, as though I could be blown over at any moment. When someone recognizes me from my family, I’m reminded that I wear my heritage on my face, and that my roots are deeper than I realize.

I draw inspiration from this town, and a lot of that is fed into my writing. When my main character in Woven says she thinks her city is the most beautiful in the world, that’s me talking about Pittsburgh. When another character weeps for the old mining town he grew up in drying up, that’s me talking about Butler.

I walk with my memories, with my roots under my feet every day. I don’t think I would be the person I am if I had grown up anywhere else. And even if I someday leave it, it will always be with me. This will always be my home.

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Rocking Self Care

As promised, I want to talk about self care today. It’s something I’ve touched on pretty often, but I’ve never really written about straight out. It’s also something that I think we all struggle with.

This isn’t an issue that’s exclusive to writers. It’s not exclusive to parents, though I think parents are slightly more likely to fall victim to it. It’s not exclusive to people who suffer from depression like me, though I think it’s more damaging to us.

It’s just that, once we’re adults, we stop thinking that we need taken care of. We stop having someone to take care of us, and we’ve started taking care of other people. We need, though to take care of ourselves.

Your physical health

It seems silly that we, as grownups, should have to be reminded to look after our health. But it happens. Especially those of us in our 20’s and 30’s. We really think we’re freaking unkillable. Until something happens.

Like when my husband was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. You decide to get healthy really fast after that.

  • Make doctors appointments for yourself, and keep them. See your PCP, your dentist, your eye doctor, your lady parts doctor if such things apply to you. I am so bad at this! I hate taking the time off work, or out of my writing time. But I’m getting better. It helps that I can finally get health insurance.
  • If you’re a woman, preform self breast exams. Every month, not just in October when everyone’s reminding you to.
  • Watch your diet. Make sure you’re making yourself a decent dinner, at least five times a week. There are a ton of recopies and tips on making easy weekday meals, so I won’t bore you with it. That’s what Pintrest is for. In fact, if you follow me on Pintrest, I pin them all the time.
  • Go to bed! Again, I try to shoot for at least five times a week actually getting seven to eight hours of sleep.
  • Get some exercise, outdoors if possible. I have the best way to do this, I don’t have a car. The walk to my day job is about 20 minutes, so that’s at least 40 minutes, 5 days a week that I walk.
  • If a doctor has prescribed you medication, make sure you’re taking it. Talk to your doctor about what vitamins you should be taking, too.

Mental Health

If you don’t fail at adulting like me, physical health might not be something you struggle with. But mental health is something I find a lot of people take for granted. And this, really, usually comes down to doing more than you should for more people than you should be doing things for in the first place. Here is what I consider bare minimum for mental care.

  • Meditate. I try to clear my mind for ten minutes in the morning and evening, then do a longer Chakra meditation three times a week. I say try, because it doesn’t always happen, but most days I can get at least ten minutes in.

  • Learn the difference between an indulgence and a self defeating habit. Generally, this comes down to portion sizes and timing. As an example, I like to have a glass of wine after work. I don’t do it every night, and if we’ve got a tight budget I won’t do it at all. That’s a healthy indulgence. I also like to go shopping for frivolous things I don’t need. I am a compulsive shopper, and the less control I feel over my life, the more likely I am to buy something I don’t need. I also have a hard time saying no to my kids. That is a self destructive habit, and I need to stop it.

  • Watch your inner monologue. This is one that I struggle with when I get depressed. I feel lazy and worthless. I hate everything I’m writing and I hate my day job. I also am sure that no one in my family really likes me that much. And no, just telling myself over and over that I’m smart and loved doesn’t waive a magic wand over my brain and fix the legitimate chemical imbalance that makes me feel shitty. But not constantly telling myself that I’m a useless waste of flesh doesn’t help any.

  • Have some hobbies. Now, this one is big when you’re a writer, because writing is no longer your hobby. There’s pressure there to succeed, and produce. Hobbies should be low pressure. For instance, I like making fancy coffees. I can use a french press, and make espresso. I also discovered the wonderful world of makeup recently, and that’s been fun. It’s low pressure, and I really like the results, whether it’s a good cup of Mexican coffee or a great smokey eye.

  • I did a whole post about this once before -Insert link to Yes and No-, so I’ll not rehash it a lot here, but learn when to say no. I like to look at it this way; if the thought of doing something makes me want to cry, I should say no. I actually think it’s kind of crazy that there was a time in my life that I had to be told this!

Know when to get help

Help comes in different forms. Sometimes it’s no longer doing something that you shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. Sometimes it’s seeing a therapist. Sometimes it’s just asking for a hand.

  • First and foremost, take a long look at your list of to dos. If you have kids, I bet there are some things on that list that shouldn’t be there. For instance, I used to make myself responsible for getting my kids up and ready for school. I even considered it my responsibility to make sure they had clean clothes. At some point I realized how terrible that was. My monsters are responsible for cleaning their rooms, and I have a bin in the hallway for all of their dirty clothes. I was the clothes, sort the clothes, and they’re responsible for folding and putting their own clothes away. If I’m doing my part of that, and they’re not, why was I rewarding them for that?

  • I’m a big fan of dividing the work. My darling husband takes care of all of the homeschooling details, so I do some housework. Like laundry, because I really don’t mind laundry. I also keep the living room and bathroom tidy, since I’m the ones wrecking those rooms anyway. These things are things that don’t make me cry. Dishes are another matter. I don’t do dishes. Nor do I cook, or clean the kitchen. Those are things my darling husband does. These are things that don’t make him cry.

  • If you’re not in the position to share chores with a spouse, consider what you can do to either swap chores you really hate with a friend, and when to hire it out.

  • Finally, if you’re feeling down, stressed, or just worried a lot, it might be time to talk to a therapist. Since I don’t know anyone who isn’t either down, stressed or worried a lot, you should probably make an appointment with a therapist. Think of it as seeing an eye doctor if you don’t have glasses. You’re probably just fine, but it’s a good idea to check in every now and again.

My four Lists

I think you knew this was going to come down to lists. But I depend on these lists, and they might help you, too.

The first of the three is what I call my gold standard list. It’s the things I try to fit into every day for self care. And I actually think that my gold standard list will look pretty similar to yours. A good night’s sleep, a breakfast heavy on good fats. Reading time, meditation time, family time. A good walk. If I can get all of these things into my day, I feel good.

It doesn’t always happen, though. Some nights I can’t sleep, some mornings I don’t have avocados. Some evenings are full of chores and I can’t get any time with my book. On those days, I have a bare minimum list. It is a list of things I must do, or I’ll feel like hell.

  1. A granola bar with coffee before work if I don’t have time for a more substantial breakfast.

  2. A through face wash, followed by some primer and eyeliner, if I don’t have time for a full face.

  3. A ten minute meditation in the mid afternoon, when I transition from day job to home.

  4. At least half an hour watching a tv show with my kids.

Now, here’s the magic of that second list. I have faith in it, like Dumbo with his feather. I believe that if I can do those four things I’ll be okay.

Finally, the most important list is the list of things I know trigger depression episodes. I can’t always avoid them. Sometimes I can be very good, and do everything I’m supposed to do and I still just get smacked in the face by it. But I also know that certain things mess with me. If I sleep in, if I fight with the husband and we don’t make up for over a day. If I don’t drink enough water, leave work early, or eat too much junk food. All of these will trigger guilt, which triggers depression. If I’m in a crowded place, in public for too long, or just knocked out of my routine for more than a day, I’m running the risk of an anxiety attack. This is all very specific to me, but I advise you to make your own list.

Basically, I want you to consider this your personal permission form to take care of yourself. It’s not selfish, it’s not weak. It’s what you need to do to make sure you’re physically and mentally healthy enough to take care of your family, and your writing. If I could boil this whole post down to one suggestion, it would be this. Treat yourself the way you’d treat someone you really love, because you should be someone that your really love.

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Prose

I love any re-occurring contests, as you all well know. Anything that allows you multiple chances to enter, especially when they give you a fun new theme. This one can be prose or poetry, whichever you prefer.

It’s hard to give a lot of details since they change every week. I intend to give it a shot most weeks, though. If nothing else, it’s good exercise.

Here’s a link to the full submission guidelines.

Best of luck

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Editing Dialog

Happy Throwback Thursday.

Nicole Luttrell's avatarPaper Beats World

I think it’s important to know your strengths and your weaknesses in life. Doubly so when you ‘re a writer, (read small business owner.) For instance, my weakness, which has been pointed out many times, is fight scenes. Probably because I don’t like to read them.

What I really am good with, though, is dialog. Talking, which shouldn’t be a surprise to anybody. No one runs a blog who doesn’t like to hear themselves talk. But I really love writing dialog, and I think that’s why I’m good at it. But, like everything else with writing, the first draft is shitty, and the second draft is only a little bit better. It’s really my third draft that makes my dialog sing. Here’s how I edit dialog.

Read it out loud.

I read my whole second draft out loud. Every single page. When something makes my mouth trip, I highlight it…

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Click

Betty walked behind the woman, making sure to keep out of sight. That wasn’t hard. It was a busy Saturday at the mall, and the woman had a noisy child with her to make an excellent distraction. Betty was able to follow much closer than she was usually able to get to a person.

The woman was older, but not really old. Betty was surprised to find that she even had a pacemaker. She paused when the woman stopped to consider a display of books. Taking the chance, she pointed one finger at her.

Nothing happened. The woman walked off to the next shop, the child following after.

Betty moved forward. Perhaps she hadn’t been close enough.

The woman stopped again, to consider some candles outside of a soap shop. She smelled one, made a face, and offered it to the child to sniff.

Betty stopped when she was about six feet from the woman, and pointed her finger again.

This time, she heard a click. The woman dropped the candle before falling to the ground herself. The glass shattered, and Betty walked past her. She was still close enough to hear when the child started to scream.

“Not good enough, not at all,” Betty muttered. “But at least now we know.”

Daintry looked down at the woman’s body. Her supervisor, the coroner, had done a thorough job. As much as he knew to do. He’d taken out the pacemaker, and assessed that it had been the cause of the woman’s death. Something had caused it to malfunction and blow up. Such a shame, but at least it had been quick.

Problem was, Daintry thought there might be more to it than that. There wasn’t a doubt that the pacemaker had killed the woman. Daintry’s question was what had caused it, because she was sure it hadn’t gone off on its own.

It wasn’t the coroner’s fault. He didn’t have the same training or tools that Daintry did. It also wasn’t his fault that she had to wait for him to leave before she could get to work. Awkward questions were sure to be asked if anyone saw her using her tools.

She wasted time, waiting for the coroner to leave. Cleaning her glasses, shuffling her papers. He sat at his desk, writing reports.

Daintry was starting to think she was going to have to find an excuse to come in early when he said, “Aren’t you finished with your reports yet?”

“No, Sir, and I haven’t even started on my cleaning, yet,” she replied with a sigh.

“Well, don’t take all night.” he replied, stashing his papers in his desk. “Are you alright here with just Nick?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Daintry said, wishing he’d stop worrying about her and just leave.

“I’ll see you in the morning,then,” he said, and finally left.

Daintry wasted no time. As soon as she heard the buzz of the outer door she grabbed her bag and darted for the body.

The woman lay on the table, a sheet pulled over her body. Daintry pulled a green silk clutch from her bag, and from it took a triangular glass in a copper frame. She pulled the sheet off of the woman’s body, and looked her over through the glass.

The body was grey, devoid of any of the normal sparks and swirls of light that would have been present in a living body. Daintry had expected this, of course. What she hadn’t expected was the dark magic burn mark on the place where the pacemaker had been. Daintry turned her glass to the machine set on a nearby table.

There, right in the center, was a black burn mark. “That doesn’t belong there.” Daintry said.

Betty sat in the city park, a newspaper on her lap. She was watching as builders set up a stage near the fountain. It looked like they were nearly done for the day.

She kept her eyes on her paper,trying to sense electronics around her. There was a man with a sleeping in his arms, and a phone in his front pocket. Betty gave him a warm smile as he passed, which he returned.

She waited until he was about ten feet away, then pointed her finger at him.

With a click, the sound on his phone went off. He jumped, waking the sleeping child, who started to bawl.

“Ten feet,” Betty said. “Better than five, I suppose.”

The builders were packing up. Betty waited until they were all gone, and the stood. She walked to the end of the seating area. Facing the stage, she took careful steps along the isle, counting each one.

When she was finished, she made her way leisurely towards a coffee cart. There was a two yard space between the two points. Betty wondered if she would be able to reach that far in the next week.

Daintry was a little concerned with just how easy it was to sneak the pacemaker out of the office. Maybe it was because she was so well trusted, or maybe it was because Nick the night guard was smoking outside instead of watching the monitors like he was supposed to.

Back at her apartment, she pulled pacemaker from the box, and set it on her kitchen table.

She opened her tool bag. Thinking that something in there might lead her to an idea.

Inside, she found a clear crystal.

“Well, maybe I can at least track it, see where it’s coming from.” she said. She picked up the crystal, and grabbed a map of the city from the drawer nearby.

She spread the map out, placed the crystal in the center of it, and picked up the pacemaker. Setting her thumb over the scorch mark, she held her other hand, palm out, towards the crystal.

It wobbled for a moment, then skittered across the map. Daintry watched as it landed over the city park, and started to glow.

“At least I can still do a tracking spell,” Daintry said. She placed her hand over the crystal, and closed her eyes.

She could see a woman, a techno witch judging by the sparks in her hair. She was walking towards a stage, looking down at her feet, her lips moving as though keeping count.

“Oh, no,” Daintry whispered. She recognized the place, passing the park every day on her way to work. It was where the governor was making his speech next week. And the governor had a pacemaker.

Daintry knew that no one who had any power to help her would listen. Humans, silly creatures that they were, generally didn’t care about evidence discovered during visions. What she didn’t know was what she was supposed to do about an evil techno witch by herself. But she knew that she had to at least try to stop her. So she found herself slinking through the crowd on the day of the governor’s speech, her eyes scanning the crowd for the witch with sparks in her hair.

Finally, she saw her, sitting on a chair in the first row. She was reading the paper, glancing up from time to time. She looked like anyone else, waiting for the speech to start. Dainty took a deep breath, and marched toward her.

She sat down next to the other witch. “I know what you’re doing,” she hissed.

The woman looked at her over her sunglasses, and raised an eyebrow. “What am I doing?” she asked.

“You’re going to make the governor’s pacemaker kill him. You’ll make us all look bad and kill an innocent politician.”

The woman laughed out loud. “Wrong, wrong and wrong,” she said. “There is no such thing as an innocent politician, and very few innocent men. I’m just bringing some chaos into their lives. And,” she grabbed Daintry’s wrist and gave her a grin, “I can’t imagine you would have gotten so close to me if you really knew what I was up to.”

Daintry tried to pull away, but she wasn’t strong enough. She felt her strength draining from her, as the other witch looked around her. She gave a little slash with her finger.

From all around them Daintry heard a series of clicks. People in the crowd fell, and those around them started screaming. Shouts were coming from behind the curtain on the stage.

Betty let go of the other girl’s arm. “Well, that solves that problem. Thank you, dear. We’ll have to work together

again.”

“You, you killed all those people,” the girl whispered. She was looking around at the screaming crowd, “Why?”

Betty shrugged, “They could use a little chaos, humans. Otherwise they get complacent and discontent. See you.”

With that she stood, and went on her way.

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12 Things Single Parents and Indie Writers Have In Common

I am not a single parent. I have a wonderful husband who is a great home maker. But I was a single mom for the first six years of my daughter’s life. Her dad and I were together, but we didn’t live together. (Long story.)

Now that I’m not a single mom anymore, I am an indie writer. Apparently I thought my life was too easy. Having done first one, and now the other, though, I’m seeing similarities. A lot of what I learned as a single parent has, in fact, made me a better indie writer. A lot of what I learned no one bothered to tell me, and I wish someone had. So if you yourself are a single parent, or an indie writer, here are 12 things to keep in mind.

You’re going to have to learn to take some shit

Not everyone approves of single parents or indie writing. People are going to tell you that you are wrong, and that you are making a bad decision. They will tell you that you are messing up your life, and that you need to just listen to them. Yeah, no. If I’ve learned anything over the course of my thirty years, it’s that people who are telling me to just listen to them about my life probably has nothing good to tell me. I had to make my own choice, and if that choice set my life difficulty on ‘nightmare’ then that’s on me. If you can, remove people from your life who would tell you that you are living it wrong.

Sleep? Yeah, that’s not a thing you’re really going to do for a little while

I didn’t get a full nights sleep until my daughter was a year and a half. Even when she started sleeping through the night, I was still up until all hours doing dishes or cleaning, or trying to sneak a little writing in. Then, of course, anytime she made a noise it woke me up, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. Now that I’m producing my own books, there is a constant stream of things that need done. Right now, I’m getting up crazy early to have time to write before the day job, then working on business hat stuff after the monsters are in bed. Most nights I’m averaging seven hours. Most. But I have pulled all nighters, getting stuff done. It’s not healthy to do often, but sometimes I’m just not going to get anywhere without it. Grow accustomed to finding out just how little sleep you can really live on.

Your day job is just one thing on a very long list of things that you need to do in a day.

This one is true for parents with co parents, too. I have a husband, and I still have so much more to do than just my day job. There’s still homework to help with, classes and appointments, grocery shopping. Then we’ll throw all my writing stuff on top of that. And when I was a single mommy, it was worse. There wasn’t going to be dinner unless I shopped for food, cooked it, and washed dishes to put it on. There would be no clean clothes unless I washed them. There was no such thing as coming home and crashing on the couch. There was come home, cook dinner, wash the dishes, play with the monster, put her to bed, clean the house, then crash hard. Now, replace all the cooking and cleaning with talking to book reviewers, making advertisements, editing and writing, and that’s what I’m doing now.

Honestly, I think I relax more at the day job.

You develop a love/hate relationship with overtime, and money in general

Maybe this one’s just me, but it’s still something I struggle with. My job offers overtime, most of the time. We don’t have to take it, but we can.

On the one hand, I love picking up overtime, because the money is good. And we can always use money. The monsters always need clothes, I want to go on vacation, the bills are crazy, we need so many things and food is freaking expensive.

But overtime takes away time you could be spending with your babies, or on your real passion, writing. Even now I feel bad working more, because I never feel like I’m spending enough time with my monsters. I always feel like I should write more.

I haven’t found a happy balance, so if anyone has suggestions, please let me know.

Not a lot of people really want to help you

Again, maybe this is just me, but my family was not super supportive when I had my monster. I got little to no help, and in fact was generally treated as though I’d done something very bad. No one had any intention of helping me with my mistake. And if they did help, I had better be damned grateful because they didn’t have to help, and I should remember that.

Indie writing isn’t as bad. Lots of successful indie writers want to help, much like other single parents want to help other single parents. But generally, most people are not going to be doing you any favors in the indie business.

All this is hilarious, given the next thing you want to remember.

Even though most people really don’t want to help you, everyone wants to tell you how to do what you’re doing

Boy, do they ever want to tell you how to do what you’re doing. Even if they’ve never been a single parent, or an indie writer. They want to tell you.

You shouldn’t let your daughter watch that movie. You should have a newsletter. You should be working more, or less. You should put your books on Amazon. You should dress her more like a girl. You shouldn’t talk about yourself on your blog. You shouldn’t cut her hair. You shouldn’t do your own cover artwork. You should take her to church, but not that church. You should have a huge following before you publish.

Please, if you get nothing else from this post, please learn to listen to advice with your head and your heart, not your fear and guilt. I can’t tell you how many things I did my first few years as a mommy because people told me I should. I was too afraid that I was screwing everything up to question whether what they were telling me was good for me and my little family or not. You all know the amount of crap I’ve tried, and failed at, with my writing career, because someone I admired told me it was a good or bad idea.

You will multitask like you breath.

Write rough drafts while supervising quiet play. Wash dishes while dinner is simmering. Edit on your lunch break. Write social media updates while the monsters watch cartoons. This is my life. I’ve learned what can be multitask-ed and what needs to have my full attention, after some pretty painful trial and error. But successful multitasking is a required skill for both the single parent and the indie writer.

Some of the best things happen in laundromats

I got a washer and dryer when we moved into the house, and I can’t even tell you how much joy this has brought me. Especially with a puppy who wets the bed. But part of me kinds of misses going to laundromats. I don’t even know why this is a thing, but some magical things happen at those places. I have had some amazing talks with my monster while we waited for the spin cycle. On the infrequent occasions when I went alone, I got some awesome writing done. I don’t even know why, but trust the magic of the laundromats.

There’s no such thing as according to plan

If you haven’t learned this yet, know that this is something indie writers and single parents live by. Rain drowns out park trips, people bail on you, computers die at the worst times, kids get sick. I have all these lovely deadlines for myself, but then things happen and I can’t realistically meet them. I have the best of intentions to get the whole kitchen cleaned up, and then I just can’t do that. Have back up plans, have contingency funds if you can save them up. If you can do it at all, start saving towards a $1,000 emergency fund. Plan for everything to go to shit, basically, and don’t feel like a failure when it does.

You can learn as much as you want, and you will still never feel like you know what you’re doing

And there is so much to learn! Countless books, blogs, classes, podcasts and magazines about indie writing and single parenting. You could start reading right now and never get through all of the information. (Theoretically. Really, when you break down all of this information, it’s usually the same info again and again.)

I learn everything I can, especially now while I’m still learning to be an indie writer. I still don’t feel like I know what I’m doing. I’ve been a mom for 12 years now. I still don’t feel like I know what I’m doing. It’s an anxiety that I will never get over.

You have got to put some energy into self care

This is not a joke. I know I just told you that I’ve been pulling some all nighters recently, and I know better!

I’m actually going to do a whole blog post about self care, it’s varying levels, and some tips to help you make sure you’re taking care of you on Sunday, so I’ll not go into it right now. But make you a priority, girls and guys. Insist up on it, or you’ll burn out. Some nights, when I was a single mom and suffering from more than a little postpartum depression, my version of self care was eating Oreos while binge watching Futurama. Was it healthy? Not physically. But it was about the only time I let myself just not accomplish anything. It was the only time I put down the to do list and just relaxed. So, mentally, it was very healthy.

Remember, you’re a superhero

One day you’re going to be in a position to look back on this time in your life. When you do, you’ll likely have a healthy child or a completed published book in your possession. You’re going to look at this time, and everything you did, and you’re going to have one question; How in the hell did you live through that?

How did you get through all the crazy work and worry? How did you get anything at all done? How did you just not spend those years in a crappy sweater, eating dry cereal at the end of the day? Most of all, how did you end up with this actual person, or real life book you’ve got now?

I’ll tell you how. You’re strong, and brave. You worked hard, and you deserve to feel proud. So feel proud now, and know that this isn’t how your whole life’s going to be.

It’s all worth it, in the end. I promise.

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It Takes Time To Be a Writer

Happy Mothers Day, to all Mammas, Step Moms, Mother In Laws, and anyone who’s been a maternal influence.

We’ve been lied to, all of us aspiring writers. Oh, it was with the best of intentions, as most lies are. But it was a lie, all the same. We have been told that it doesn’t take nearly as much time as we all think to become a great writer. We have been told, over and over, if we can devote whatever spare minutes we have in a day, we will prevail. We will become writers.

Well, I shouldn’t say that it’s a total lie. Every good lie has a kernel of truth, after all. If you are just trying to become a writer, short stories work very well in small segments of time. Even novel length manuscripts can be written like that. Sure, it can, I’ve done it. Often my short stories are written between calls at my day job. I’ve said the same thing. If you are establishing a writing routine in your life, and all you have is maybe five minutes while your little one takes a nap, or 15 minutes on the bus to work, you slay that time! You make that story, because it’s better than nothing. Yes, you can write a whole book, minutes at a time. And if you’re writing, you’re a writer.

But I’ve learned better. if you intend to do something with your writing, then it’s going to take more than little sips of time. And everyone needs to stop telling this lie, because it’s hurting writers.

It doesn’t take into account editing

If you’ve never sat down, and edited a long piece of work, this might be something you’re not aware of, but you can’t just edit a page at a time and expect awesome results. For one thing, you’ve got to see your piece as a whole so you can find and patch plot holes. Usually, when I’m rough drafting I can’t remember half of what happened in part one by the time I get to part three. So if I put a gun on the mantle, I forgot that it needed to go off. It can also be frustrating as hell. You read a flawed paragraph, and you free write to fix it. Then you don’t get to write it until later. I know, when this has happened to me, I’ve forgotten my brilliant fix by that time. Generally I try to not edit unless I’ll have at least an hour to commit to the project.

It doesn’t take into account submitting

When you’re looking for an agent or editor to send your work to, prepare to spend a lot of time online. Don’t forget that before an agent accepts you, you have to accept them. Do they represent your genre? Have they had successful sales recently? What’s their standing on Predators and Editors? Then, there’s the query writing process, which should not be rushed. Again, this can take up to an hour, at least, if you’ve been doing it awhile.

It doesn’t take into account learning about the craft

If you’re a writer, you’ve also got to be a reader. Read books for pleasure, yes, but also to learn from them. Read articles to learn, listen to podcasts. This takes time, man, lots of time. Sure, you can dip into a book for five minutes or so, but if you intend to finish the book there had better be a lot of five minute increments built into you day.

Not just learning, but practicing. Free writing, trying to write from a different POV, learning poetry forms, all of this takes time. And if you short change your practice, you short change your writing career.

It doesn’t take into account marketing

I don’t spend as much time on marketing and self promotion as I should, most likely. I’m getting better at it, but there are so many things to do. I send my book to book review sights, pitch it on social media, run ad campaigns, and all the other crap I do to make sure people hear about my books. It takes time, and traditional writers have to do a lot of this too, your publisher won’t always do it for you. Most writers have websites or blogs they maintain, like myself. PBW accounts for about four hours a week, easy. You might say that marketing isn’t really writing, and you’re totally right. But how else will anyone hear about your book? Sure, word of mouth is great, but it’s hard to get that when no one has read it at all.

It doesn’t take into account all the insane little things like getting a bar code, compiling a story into a book, or the hours and hours you can spend designing a damned cover.

I spent nearly a week preparing Days to be published. Not a week full of five minutes here and there, a week of two to four hours at a time working. It required time, it required focus. It required my monsters to be in school. I then spent hours getting everything on the Gumroad and Tablo websites. It wasn’t hard work, but it was time consuming work, and certainly not something I could have done a little at a time.

It discourages us from making serious lifestyle changes that could allow for better, longer writing sessions.

Deciding to be a writer, not as a hobby but as a career, is a commitment. And the further you get into it, the more it will demand of your time. For me, that meant I had to cut some things out of my life to make room for it. I cut my addiction to time management games, I stopped reading as many comic books, I narrowed the time I spend watching tv. Once I started valuing my writing time, I stopped talking to some people that, quite frankly, it was better for me to not talk to. I still spend time with the people I value. Not as much as I’d like, but that’s because of time and work constraints.

Not only have I cut bad habits out of my life, I’ve added good ones. I commit to writing time in the morning before work. I bring my writing with me, and work on it whenever I have time.

I’m really glad that I did all of those things. Writing has brought fulfillment to my life in such a way that nothing else but my children ever did. I miss my comic books, but it’s worth it to me.

Another thing I want you to keep in mind is that while I might be able to commit to an hour, five minutes at a time, I probably won’t get as much writing done as if I sat down for a whole hour and wrote. I didn’t have to stop and start so many times. Now, if I have just five minutes, I’ll take them. But I reach for those longer sessions, and I do what I need to to get them.

It makes us feel guilty that we’re not producing more

And this is the worst one, in my opinion. Telling people, “I did this, and I did it with just the end bits of time through my day,” makes some people, including me, feel guilty. What am I doing wrong that I can’t do the same thing? Why are her five minutes more productive than mine? Am I just stupid, what the hell is wrong with me?

No, stop that. Nothing is wrong with you, that person is lying. It’s the same mentality that makes people put on a full face of make up, take a selfie, then post it with a #nofilter #Iwokeuplikethis. No you didn’t you liar. We just all think we should be effortlessly beautiful, productive, patient and tidy. Well let me tell you, it’s not happening at my house, and probably not at yours either. If I’m going to have a productive day, I have to be up by 6:30 at the latest, at my desk by 7:00 and off to work by 9:15. Now, if I don’t manage that, I’ll fit in time whenever I can, but I really push to manage that. I have to.

Please, don’t think that this means that you don’t have the time to be a writer. It’s very likely that you do. And if all the time you have to give to it right now is five minutes, give that time. But you’re going to need more that than eventually. Anyone who tells you otherwise, is a liar.

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