We're two weeks into the new year (and a whole new decade!) and I know plenty of writers who made some lofty resolutions. Here at WITS, we keep it simple and stick to one word to guide our writing journey in the new year.
Frankly, one word is about all I can handle at the beginning of January.
The holidays have usually left me breathless. Someone in my family is often sick over that holiday break (this time it was everyone). My house is predictably a raging mess in early January.
But I can do One Word.
I don't know about you, but I print the One Word post out. I tack my paragraph up somewhere noticeable in my house. I make a drawing out of my word. I ponder it.
It's still a work in progress but I kinda like it.
But here we are mid-January, with 2020 stretching before us -- the Good, the Bad, and the Election. Ugh. I've caught my breath and there are goals to be outlined, and dreams to be chased.
If you are a writer, published or unpublished, I'd guess you’re hoping this New Year will be one that builds your career. So, let's do this!
I challenge you to make at least one concrete writing goal for 2020.
I'll start you off with ideas from one of our early WITS contributors, wise-woman Charlotte Carter. She wrote almost 60 books before she passed on and she knew how to get the work done.
Charlotte's advice for writing success.
1. Make writing a priority. It’s way too easy to get off track if you don’t stick to your guns. Family and friends make demands on you. A good movie opens at the local theater, you promise yourself that you’ll get back to your writing schedule tomorrow. Don’t count on it!
2. Spend time with other writers. No one understands a writer’s fears, failures and successes like another writer. Not even your mother.
3. Don’t let the business get you down. Nora Roberts says, and I believe her, that it was hard to get published when she started writing. It's still hard. Get used to it.
4. Develop a presence on the Internet. Editors do check authors’ blogs and websites. But remember Resolution #1 - don’t spend all of your writing time fussing with your online exposure and forget about your career goals.
5. Improve your craft. Attend workshops and conferences, take classes online, find a critique group that will encourage you and help you to grow. This is part of making your writing a priority.
6. Keep yourself mentally and physically healthy. Yep, you do have to exercise, spend time with friends and family, and find ways to fill your creative well.
7. Read. A lot. Both in and out of the genre you’re writing. I guarantee that won’t be a burden.
Now it's your turn, WITS Readers! Instead of One Word, what is your One Thing? A class you've dreamed of...a story that won't leave you alone? Perhaps you've been waiting to tackle a different genre or start a blog. Share your One Thing with us down in the comments!
Here’s to making one of your dreams come true in 2020...
About Jenny
By day, Jenny provides training and social media marketing for an accounting firm. By night she writes humor, memoir, women’s fiction and short stories. After 18 years as a corporate software trainer, she’s delighted to sit down while she works.
There’s a special writing area I’ve created for myself. A glass-topped desk with very little to clutter the surface: laptop, coffee mug, desk lamp, and my little “owl with tiara” mascot.
The desk faces a large window that looks out on trees and distant hills. No houses, cars, or people. A black ergonomic chair.
I like having this special, dedicated place. I do other things there—emails, PayPal, cropping my photos—but mostly it’s where I write. The time of day varies, from early morning to late at night; the place, less so.
I wondered what other people did, what their writing spaces were like. So I asked.
I posted a photo of my desk on a few Facebook groups for writers and invited people to respond with their own photos or descriptions. A lively discussion ensued, with dozens of people taking part.
Here’s what I learned and what I think it means.
It seems there are three workspace camps.
The cave-dwellers.
In one camp were those, like me, who needed quiet and calm.
I have a loft room called the tower where I look out over the trees to the river and the mountains. This is a place where I can hide from the world below.
A quiet room. Serene jewel toned walls, comfy chair and tea. I don’t even want music.
I prefer more of a cave situation—no-to-little outside stimulation, certainly no music or background talking to distract me.
I have a She-Shed. I need complete quiet.
I have to have complete silence so I can hear myself think.
Among the cave-dwellers, some found a beautiful view helpful:
I've got a beautiful view that keeps me peaceful.
I do best outside in sight of natural beauty.
Next to the window overlooking our local church and gorgeous old town. Very inspiring.
Others, in contrast, found views distracting.
A view would distract me from the images in my mind.
No views. I need to focus and am afraid if I looked out the window I’d start taking pictures instead of writing.
The white-noisers.In
another camp were the people who concentrated best in coffee shops and places
filled with lots of background noise.
I like the anonymity within the usually jovial background.
I go to a very busy cafe where they let you linger and everyone has laptops. There’s something about the vibe.
I like writing in Starbucks. I like that it forces a couple of hours of focus before I've overstayed my welcome and need to pack up and go home.
I think there is something about the shared work environment, the white noise, and the lack of domestic distractions that works really well.
The anywhere-and-everywhere
writers.A third group
wrote wherever and whenever they could. For some, this was because it was the
only realistic option. Others simply stopped and wrote when an idea struck
them.
Literally anywhere. I’ve learned not to be picky.
I write when and where I can—in my office, yes, but also at the kitchen table, at the library, at the ballet school, between rounds of History Bee. I take what I get.
It doesn't matter if it's home, in a coffee shop, a hotel room, a park or if it's serene, chaotic, noisy, or a mess as long as I can sit with my laptop on my lap.
In my car, on the open. I scribble on a legal pad at stoplights and record dialogue on my phone. Anytime. Anyplace.
I can write anywhere I get an idea, thanks to dictation/notes on my phone and a lightweight laptop I carry everywhere.
Three different answers, right? Or maybe not.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that everyone was doing the same thing. In one way or another, they were creating a sealed-off environment where the world of the story could dominate, rather than the world of ordinary life.
They
did this by entering a special place
or a special time. Three hours every
Monday night at Starbucks. A corner of the basement—“it’s cluttered, but it’s
mine.” A special armchair or a space in an unused bedroom. During the hour-long
train ride to work.
In order to enter the story world, they had to subdue or transform the sensory stimulation of the regular world.
Through silence, noise-cancelling headphones, music, or the ambient sounds of strangers, each person erected her own auditory shield—a protective ring, a barrier, that let them focus on the interior world of their imagination.
Visual
stimulation seemed less problematic. Perhaps because it’s easier to stay
focused on a laptop or notebook, resisting the urge to look elsewhere, than it
is to block out the intrusive sounds that reach us without our choosing to
attend to them.
In
the old Star Trek movies, a deflector shield was raised to ward off incoming
energy that was vibrating at a
frequency other than that of the shield itself—in other words, to repel distractions
as well as dangers.
When
we’re trying to write, incoming impressions that aren’t relevant to the story
world need to be repelled—so we create our personal shields. One person summed it up well: “Above all, a
place where I’m alone with my thoughts. I can be in a crowded place as long as
I don’t know anyone else or get distracted.”
It’s the internal place that really matters. The external place is just the container. Without that dedicated internal place—that special state of immersion in the world of our characters—the most exquisite, well-appointed office won’t necessarily help. Sometimes the external place, with its accessories and associations, does help us shift into the internal one.
At other times, when we don’t have access to the time or place where we believe we write best, we find another way. Artist Georgia O’Keeffe painted inside her car when the weather was too hot in the New Mexico desert. At a workshop I attended, renowned author Alice Hoffman told us that she often writes on her iPhone.
We
write—when, where, and because we must.
What about you?
Where do you write best? What are the key elements of that environment? Is there a place that’s surprisingly conducive to writing for you—a place that might seem odd to others, but works for you?
What are the essential “writing shields” you need?
Are you getting what you need, or are there small changes you can make in your writing space that would help?
About Barbara
Barbara Linn Probst is the author of Queen of the Owls, coming in April 2020 from the visionary, award-winning She Writes Press. Queen of the Owls has been chosen by Working Mother as one of the twenty most anticipated books for 2020 and will be the May 2020 selection of the Pulpwood Queens, a network of more than 780 book clubs throughout the U.S. To pre-order or learn more, please visithttp://www.barbaralinnprobst.com/
A chance meeting with a charismatic photographer will forever change Elizabeth’s life.
This novel asks the question: How much is Elizabeth willing to risk to be truly seen and known?
Click here to read more, or to pre-order the book.
A minister, a priest, and a rabbi are walking down a dark alley -- no, this is not a joke, but hang with me here -- when an eight-foot, three-headed monster jumps out, roars, and bares his sharp teeth and claws.
The minister throws a punch. The priest runs. The rabbi can't seem to move.
See? I told you it wasn't a joke. It's acute stress response; that is, the way our bodies and minds handle the presence of an immediate threat.
One fights. One flees. One freezes.
You've heard of those, but how can writers apply this knowledge to our stories? How can the fight-flight-freeze response be used to ratchet up tension and guide action for our characters?
First, the Visceral Reaction
Physiologist Walter Cannon coined the phrase "fight or flight," back in the 1920s, to describe the adrenaline rush and response people exhibit when faced not only with physical emergencies, but psychological ones as well. In recent years, scientists added a third option: tonic immobility, or "freeze."
This video explains these reactions well. (And yes, there's a quick sales plug for the video's creator at the end.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJhcn7Q0-LU
That list of symptoms alone can help us better write our characters' acute stress responses! Which of these might your protagonist exhibit?
Quick, shallow breathing
Fast heartbeat
Chest pain
Need to urinate
Dry mouth
Nausea
Butterflies in stomach
Cold hands
Sweaty palms
Trembling and/or weak hands and legs
Tension in thighs, neck, or shoulders
Negative memories
Tunnel vision / loss of peripheral vision
Reduced ability to read facial expressions
Dizziness / feeling one might faint (but they won't)
Fight is actually an uncommon response, with fleeing and freezing more likely. Freezing can be seen both in denying the severity of a situation and/or dithering so long about what to do that opportunities to effectively deal with the disaster pass, leaving the worst option as the inevitable one.
So let's say your main character is facing a disaster -- be it an alien invasion, an inferno, or high schoolers storming the cafeteria for the last of the Twinkies. Starting with the visceral reaction:
Gayle's mouth went dry, her heart sped up to a gallop, and her knees buckled.
Then what? Is your protagonist the type to fight, flee, or freeze? Which answer determines what happens next, as well as the pace of the action.
Fight
Gayle didn't have time to think. Didn't allow herself to think. Adrenaline poured into her veins. She dove forward and slashed at the laser-wielding alien. If she was going down, she'd take it with her.
Although fight is an uncommon response, this is fiction and we like kick-butt heroes. Plus, an ensuing fight definitely puts tension on the page.
Flight
At the sight of the laser-yielding alien, Gayle's brain yelled, "Run!" Her feet obeyed. Dodging tables and chairs, she sprinted across the room.
Gayle heard crashes and shots and screams behind her, but all she could see was the door ahead. She had to get to reach that exit.
Flight is a more common response, and you can see the tension and conflict her choice creates. Is everyone else in the area running for the door, causing a logjam at the exit? Might the alien chase after her? Could she stumble? Injure herself? Find the door barred or locked?
Freeze
Gayle couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. Al-al-alien. That right there was the stuff of science fiction, a creature from the Star Wars cantina, an impossibility. Only there it was, not only three-dimensional and fully present but shooting lasers at people around her.
Numbly, she watched people fall. Were they dead or just stunned?
Her brain struggled to process what was happening. She was caught between two worlds, the real one she'd been in moments ago and this surreal one where nothing made sense. There had to be a link between the two, even if that link was only Gayle herself.
The alien stomped toward her, its sinister eyes bulging, green teeth bared, weapon raised. Gayle's jaw dropped open and her feet weighed a million pounds each, gluing her to the floor.
If she just stands there, she might get squashed like a bug. But you can keep tension up. Does someone rescue her, but it's not someone she wants rescuing her? Could the alien kidnap rather than kill her? Might she discover that silence and immobility are the only way to avoid an attack? (Looking at you, The Quiet Place.)
Combining Responses
You don't have to choose only fight, flight, or freeze. Your character might go through two or all of them.
Real-life case in point: My mother has a phobia of frogs, possibly due to a near-drowning event in her childhood. Anyway, I was in college when I saw the depth of her fear up close and personal. A frog had gotten into our forest-surrounded home, and my mother's acute stress response caused her to shut down quickly and thoroughly when confronted with a harmless amphibian that could fit in the palm of my hand.
She was frozen. But I snapped her out of her trance and got her to flee. Mind you, my first few few requests did not work. I literally had to get in her face and yell, "Get out of here!" But then she startled and scurried away, and I returned Senor Frog to his natural habitat outside. Crisis averted.
When you write a combination, you'll likely need another trigger to change the first response to a new one. For example:
Your character flees, but then hears a child's cry and runs back to fight.
Your character surges forward to fight, gets knocked down, and freezes.
Your character freezes, but a glancing blow awakens their desire to fight back.
Or like my scenario: Your character freezes until prodded by another character to flee.
Scene and Sequel
The fight-flight-freeze response is driven by the amygdala, a structure of neurons in the brain linked to fear, pleasure, and aggression.
What we actually think about a situation, however, involves different parts of the brain. The cognitive processes of evaluation, self-regulation, and behavioral goals happen in the frontal lobes, parts not as active when you're in panic mode.
If you're familiar with the scene-sequel structure, originally proposed by Dwight Swain, you may already see how these differing brain functions align with that model.
When our character goes through a jarring event, their immediate stress response is part of the scene. It's what's happening right then and there and how they react. Since it's amygdala-driven, hold off on describing the processing one goes through later to make sense of what's happening and to determine the next goal. It's in the sequel where you have that cognitive processing, and that may involve a few lines or a whole chapter.
So when it comes to fight-flight-freeze, you're not likely to see something like this:
Bob's feet sank into the floorboards, and his heart throbbed against his ribs. How had she found out? He'd been so careful to hide all the receipts. To keep a separate bank account. To use a fake name whenever possible.
Maybe he could get his wife back. They could go to counseling. That's it--he'd schedule a counseling appointment in the morning.
Um, no. That second paragraph is unlikely to happen right away. Your character will need more time hanging out with their stress response, which is good news for your reader. Because that's more tension, more wondering how things will go, more continuing to read to find out.
Exactly how fast your character moves from the fight-flight-freeze scene to the executive-function sequel depends on who they are.
Different characters or even the same character in different seasons will recover differently. For a quick example, imagine the acute stress response recovery time for Sarah Connor before and after her encounter with the Terminator.
THE TERMINATOR (1984)TERMINATOR 2 (1991)
Where on the spectrum between these women is your character? Write to that timing.
How have you used fight, flight, or freeze in your own story? What more do you want to know about using acute stress response to create conflict and reveal character?
Julie Glover writes mysteries and young adult fiction. Her YA contemporary novel, SHARING HUNTER, finaled in the 2015 RWA® Golden Heart® and is now on sale! When not writing, she collects boots, practices rampant sarcasm, and advocates for good grammar and the addition of the interrobang as a much-needed punctuation mark.
Julie is represented by Louise Fury of The Bent Agency. You can visit her website here and also follow her on Twitter and Facebook.
