Writers in the Storm

Colleen M. Story

 Whenever I visit a pier—any pier—one of my favorite things to do is to walk along and read all the boat names.

It’s fun to see what people choose to call their watercraft, but I’ve also found that when I’m lucky, one of the names will have something special to say to me.

One year in Florida, for example, I found this one:

Notice the name: “Persistence.”

At the time, I hadn’t yet received that traditional publishing contract I so desired, and I felt like the boat was telling me something.

I posted this picture on my computer wallpaper until I finally got that contract a short time later. I still take a look at it now and then, as a reminder when my endurance is running low.

This year, I got a chance to visit a pier in the Pacific Northwest, so I took a walk, reading the boat names along the way. Miss Elaine. Stormbreaker. Judy. Griffin. Aurora. Winona.

And then, I spotted this one:

Can you see it? In case you can’t quite read the name, here’s a close-up:

It says: Never Again IX.

 When I saw that, I stopped and laughed out loud. Not just “never again,” but “never again for the ninth time.” Yeah, I could relate.

How about you?

Sometimes, a Writer Has to Imagine Letting it All Go

I was coming off a very busy time in my writing life, having just launched my first self-published non-fiction book, after traditionally publishing a novel the year before and another novel the year before that, all while maintaining a full-time freelance writing business, conducting writing workshops at various conferences, and building the readership for my website, Writing and Wellness.

You know how it goes. It had been an extremely busy three years, exciting but stressful. I’d learned a ton, but I was tired. Exhausted even. I had to take a break, so I was on vacation, and I was loving it. While I enjoyed the great weather and hiked some beautiful trails, I was thinking over everything in my professional life. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any of it anymore—the novels, the website, the workshops.

When I thought about it, I just felt tired. Why do all this?  I wondered. Is it really getting you anywhere?

I let the idea of “never again” come into my mind. Never again will I worry about writing a novel and publishing it. Never again will I worry about getting fresh and interesting blog posts up every week. Never again will I take on the work of presenting a workshop. Never again will I spend weeks writing guest posts and running online tours and giveaways and what not to market a book.

Instead, I could simply focus on my freelance work. I could do my assignments, and then enjoy oodles of free time. Imagine it! Once work was over, I wouldn’t have to shift gears and write some more. I could just enjoy myself. Like most people do, right?

Take more walks. Play more music. Spend more time with friends. Read. Wander.

What a concept! It was delicious, and for a while, I let myself think about it. Really think about it. I wasn’t just toying with the idea. I was actually giving myself permission:

When you get back from vacation, you don’t have to do any of it anymore if you don’t want to.

 Have you ever experienced one of those lovely sighs of relief, how the air just exits your body and your muscles unravel and you close your eyes and think, yes, that is what I’ll do?

 It feels wonderful. I highly recommend it.

 Never Again…Again

The actor Daniel Craig has been James Bond four times. After his fourth movie was released in 2015, he promised: never again. He was done.

According to The Guardian, he said he would “rather slash my wrists” than reprise the role. “We’re done,” he said. “All I want to do is move on.”

Never again.

Then in August 2017, The Guardian reported that while on “The Late Show” with Stephen Colbert, Craig confirmed he would be playing Bond one more time in a fifth film, set to hit theaters in November 2019.

“I think this is it,” he said. “I just want to go out on a high note and I can’t wait.”

Craig may have gotten some backlash for the back and forth, but I can understand it. He admitted he was exhausted after filming Spectre, and that his ill-thought-out negative comments were made just two days after the last day of shooting.

He added that after it was over, he just needed a break.

Don’t we all?

Thus, the fishing boat. Sitting peacefully in the pier.

Never Again IX.

Never Again is a Delicious Thought

I can’t imagine being a fisherman. The ocean is so unforgiving. I’ve been out on it only a couple times in the summertime weather and have been amazed at the strength and harshness of the winds, the unrelenting current. I can’t imagine being on it all season long. There’s a reason old-time fisherman look weathered, their skin like leather.

With what little I know, I can surely understand thinking never again. Why keep it up? Why go out there year after year, when the fish are disappearing, the regulations increasing, the income diminishing, and the way of life getting more and more difficult every year?

Sound familiar?

Why indeed? A fisherman asked himself that question, apparently nine times. And his answer was sitting there in the pier, the little white boat with the maroon accents, ready to venture forth into the unpredictable ocean waters…again.

Just as my answers are sitting on my laptop—my next novel, in progress, and my next non-fiction, in progress.

Sometimes, we just need to allow ourselves to imagine it. We could let it all go. We could choose another way of life. We could say goodbye to it all.

So soothing to picture, to feel. Without never again, we might actually quit.

Instead, it allows us to regroup, relax, and let the creative bubbles rise under the bow.

The sea is calling.

Have you had a NEVER AGAIN moment? Have you had a NEVER AGAIN 3 or 5 or 9 moment?

ABOUT COLLEEN

Colleen M. Story is the author of Overwhelmed Writer Rescue: Boost Productivity, Improve Time Management, and Replenish the Creator Within—a motivational read full of practical, personalized solutions to help writers escape the tyranny of the to-do list and nurture the genius within. Discover your unique time personality and personal motivational style, and learn how to keep self-doubt, perfectionism, and workaholism from stealing your writing time. Available at all common book retailers. (Get your free chapter here!)

Colleen is also a novelist and has worked in the creative writing industry for over twenty years. She is the founder of Writing and Wellness. For more information, please see her author website, or follow her on Twitter (@colleen_m_story).

Sources

Peter Walker and Nancy Groves, “Daniel Craig: I’d rather slash my wrists than play James Bond again,” The Guardian, October 8, 2015

Hannah Ellis-Peterson, “Daniel Craig confirms he will play James Bond again,” The Guardian, August 16, 2017

Kimberly Brock

There was this time when I was in college and working at a local outlet mall around the holidays so everything in my memory is a blur of gift wrap, cinnamon scented candles and rude people. But there was a Dairy Queen at the entrance to the mall and so almost daily, I ran through the drive-through for something – a burger, or a blizzard. I’d sit in the parking lot and eat and watch the traffic and try to find a Zen place before entering the fray.

There were plenty of people to watch and even though I wasn’t yet aware that this quirk in my personality that made me a serial observer would one day serve me well as a writer, I was already practicing my craft. I loved to imagine who the people were and what their lives were like, and most of the time I was absolutely certain of my deductions.

As I said, I was very young. Things and people seemed more cut and dry, black and white, good and bad, to me then. My own life experiences were fairly limited. They say to write what you know and I was filling journals with childhood memories, bad poetry, and romantic notions, but not much else. Not because I didn’t know anything else, but because I couldn’t write everything I knew. To write everything I knew meant to expose the addictions, abuses and broken places in my family and community, and I wasn’t interested in those kinds of betrayals. To write everything came at a cost that was too high.

And then I saw her. The Dairy Queen.

On the sidewalk, she sat like a squat toad under a bundle of brown clothes that obviously didn’t fit her. Her gray hair was thin and pulled hard off her face into a tight knot at the back of her head. Her face was hard and tight and dark from the sun. Her jaw was set in that strange angle of those without teeth and her eyes were slits, suspicious and mysterious and somehow threatening. I saw her in great detail because I’d pulled into the drive-through line and my car was stopped directly in front of her. I couldn’t ignore her. I couldn’t stare at her. She made me nervous and I remember checking to be sure my doors were locked, as if she might suddenly jump up and hop in my car.

My entire reaction embarrassed and shamed me, the girl with a journal full of sweet, clean little girl stories. She held a cardboard sign, you know the kind. I wish I could say that I clearly recall what it read but you can guess: Homeless. Need food. Please help.

I won’t lie to you. I wanted to look away. I felt I had no idea what to do. Except, I knew exactly what to do, but was afraid to do it. When I look back on this memory I realize that feeling visits me frequently in my writing choices and that’s a strange realization. We’re presented with choices in life and in our work and we can look away and make excuses or we can have the courage to act, to take a hard look and know something for what it is, to name it and face it. Maybe it’s not the same, altogether, but there’s some essence of dignity that comes in being honest with ourselves, with others – with our readers.

The everything that I knew – all the things I couldn’t honestly write about yet - told me that if I rolled my window down and gave the Dairy Queen a twenty dollar bill, she wouldn’t use it to put food in her belly or to take a cab to wherever she could sleep for the night. She drink it. Or worse. It would be taken from her. The everything told me to pull out of the drive through line, park my car, and speak to the Dairy Queen. And for some reason, I did. For some reason, that particular day, I was prepared to meet her. Whether she was prepared to meet me was a different story and that’s what I’m really getting to here, but let me explain.

When I reached out to take her hand and introduce myself, she looked frightened. And honestly, angry. My hand was empty and she was looking for that twenty from my wallet. But I gave her my name, instead. She did not give me hers. I didn’t mind. I’d already named her, anyway. Then I told her that if she would wait – go inside and have a seat where it was warm – I would buy her a meal, run to the grocery store to get her a few things, and be right back to call her a cab to take her to the local shelter for the night.

I will never be sure that she wanted – or needed – any of the things that I offered. She never thanked me. She never spoke to me, at all, in fact. She looked completely stunned and even more than that, annoyed. But she didn’t turn down the free cheeseburger. I paid for her meal and left her sitting in a booth while I ran to the nearest grocery store and filled two bags with cans of soup, peanut butter, nuts, crackers, tuna and a few chocolate bars, because I thought they would make her smile. The everything I knew told me that what she wanted me to come back with were alcohol and cigarettes, and chocolate would go unappreciated. But it also told me that it had been a long time since someone tried to take care of the Dairy Queen, who might not even still be waiting in that booth by the time I hurried back. And more than anything I could give her, maybe the most important thing was that I return.

Truly, I hadn’t expected to find her there. By the look on her face, she was as surprised to see me. I gave her the bags of groceries and told her a cab would arrive any minute. And I left her there.

I wish I could say that things ended with some kind of miracle. I wish I could say that it was a transformative moment in my life and that I was a better person for having met the Dairy Queen. But the truth is, I already knew her. In fact, I often wonder if I conjured her out of the everything inside myself.

I was ready to meet her that day and I meet her every day since I started to write. Through so many of the characters in my work, I hear her so clearly, all the things she didn’t say to me that day, years ago. All the everything she embodied and I was afraid to expose. I imagine what she saw when a young, well-dressed woman approached her and naively assumed her needs, then ran off to try to meet them with a few bags of groceries and a cab to nowhere. And I try to give to her what I couldn’t give that day – nor to my own dark and silenced stories – I try to give her the chance to speak. For in her silence, at the cost of a little humility, she gave me the gift of my own voice.

Where did you find your voice? We'd like to hear your story.

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About Kimberly

Kimberly Brock is the award winning author of the #1 Amazon bestseller, THE RIVER WITCH (Bell Bridge Books, 2012). A former actor and special needs educator, Kimberly is the recipient of the Georgia Author of the Year 2013 Award. A literary work reminiscent of celebrated southern author Carson McCullers, THE RIVER WITCH has been chosen by two national book clubs.

Kimberly’s writing has appeared in anthologies, blogs and magazines, including Writer Unboxed and Psychology Today. Kimberly served as the Blog Network Coordinator for She Reads, a national online book club from 2012 to 2014, actively spearheading several women’s literacy efforts. She lectures and leads workshops on the inherent power in telling our stories and is founder of  Tinderbox Writer’s Workshop. She is also owner of Kimberly Brock Pilates.

She lives in the foothills of north Atlanta with her husband and three children, where she is at work on her next novel. Visit her website at kimberlybrockbooks.com for more information and to find her blog.

Kathryn Craft

As you sat at the table counting and sharing your blessings last week, I’ll venture there was an entire subset of “blessings” that you skirted past. Because, frankly, to say them aloud would ruin everyone’s appetite. Now that your feast is digested, I’m going to suggest you seek the truth in the following statement:

We writers should be grateful for every painful event that ever challenged us.

Why would we want to be grateful for accidents, assaults, roadblocks, and acts of omission? It’s a fair question. If it were up to me, the world would never know one more case of despair that resulted in a mass shooting or suicide. We would never again have to hear the rallying cry, #metoo. We’d be able to keep everyone employed so that no one would go hungry or have to live out of their cars or suffer due to lack of healthcare.

But all of us are graduates of the school of hard knocks, and we didn’t get to design the classroom. Writers, in particular, are sensitive to the injuries we’ve sustained. They made us feel utterly powerless. Why should we feel grateful?

Because these intense pressures inspired us to arise to the hard work of writing stories that matter. We understand that such challenges served as the grit that, with additional layers of perspective, become the pearl that is our unique voice.

I’ll admit that there are certain trials that are exceedingly hard to be grateful for. But what’s the alternative? We can’t change the past. Murdering our transgressors isn’t a particularly life-affirming option. We could rail against humanity till the end of our days, but how will that give us meaningful lives, let alone one single moment of peace or joy? Rising above our torment by being grateful for the lessons it confers makes a story worth telling, whether you funnel that wisdom into fiction or memoir. The courageous determination to create a life worth living inspires readers.

Gratitude signals that we have moved beyond the outrage we once felt. Inciting outrage in our reader isn’t a bad thing—it shows that the pressures on our characters are acute—but I know from experience that outrage is not the place from which you can write your best novel. An early reader of my debut told me my character was too angry, and suggested I imbue her with some of the strength that allowed me to get beyond my first husband’s suicide. Clearly I wasn’t yet quite as healed as this reader made me out to be! But her feedback gave me a useful benchmark: I knew that my characterization of Penelope Sparrow would be complete once her actions exuded an admirable strength. In many ways, Penelope and I healed together. By freeing me from anger, gratitude allowed me to enter the perspectives of my characters in a way that resulted in a more nuanced—and ultimately more powerful—tale.

Gratitude for our life’s journey is a choice. It is not easy work. No one wants a seed of discord to be placed in her hand, and no one would blame you for casting yours onto the pavement and letting it bounce away. But if instead you planted that seed of discord in your fertile mind, let your spirit rain down upon it, and crack it open, you will watch it grow into a story whose testament to the human spirit will shine through your unique perspective. You might be writing fiction, but the hard-won truths you share will have your readers shuddering with recognition. Its impact will be profound.

Not yet ready to embrace gratitude? Maybe you have to back up a few steps, and first acknowledge that these episodes actually injured you. Then you’ll need to accept that with work, and time, you have the power to make these events into a meaningful part of your life’s journey. Acceptance allows you to let go of your anger so you can embrace the gratitude that will help you move on.

Fierce gratitude can transform your life and your writing. Try it. The world needs more people who will take on this important work.

Have you used a trial from your own life to inform something in your fiction? It may not be direct—more than my experience as a dancer, it was my miscarriages that informed my sense of Penelope Sparrow’s disappointment that her body stood out as different from others in the dance world. We won’t compare our trials—a broken fingernail can be disastrous for a hand model raising a child on her own—but let’s paint a mural of gratitude by showing how we’ve used our trials to drive our fiction.

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Kathryn Craft  is the award-winning author of two novels from Sourcebooks, The Art of Falling and The Far End of Happy, and a developmental editor at Writing-Partner.com, specializing in storytelling structure and writing craft. Her chapter “A Drop of Imitation: Learn from the Masters” was included in the writing guide Author in Progress, from Writers Digest Books. Janice Gable Bashman’s interview with her, “How Structure Supports Meaning,” originally published in the 2017 Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market, has been reprinted in The Complete Handbook of Novel Writing, both from Writer’s Digest Books.