1. Show up and stay there. Stay in your seat.
Nothing is coming to you, you say?
You’re staring at a blank page or the blinking cursor on a white screen? Stay. Resist the urge to flee and do something else (check
Facebook, text someone, eat something, do laundry, take a nap). Learn how to be comfortable being
uncomfortable.
2. You can’t edit nothing. Write something.
You can edit something.
3. Give yourself permission to begin without it being
perfect. I begin with pen to
paper, writing in a loose, sketch-like, journaling, incomplete sentence
form. This allows me to find a way
into the “real” writing. I usually
begin with what I’m unsure of, afraid of, pissed off about, dreading. I jot down a flash of a thought about
what needs to happen next, what a character might say, and then and then and
then. And then, I’m in. There’s something magical in the
connection from brain to hand to pen to paper. Grab a pen and go.
Let loose. Don’t be
judgmental or afraid to be sloppy here.
Julia Cameron calls this process “morning pages.” Natalie Goldberg calls it “getting the
pen moving.” I call it “permission
to begin.”
4. Tell the truth.
Always. If you lie to your
readers, they will break up with you.
5. Be
present. Slow down and be in the
moment within your story. What is
there to see, smell, hear? What’s
the temperature, the emotion, the energy?
Go inside moment to moment.
Breathe and really be there.
6. Believe it’s
already done. In some kind of
time-space continuum, I believe every book I write is already written. So why am I avoiding writing chapter
12? It’s already done. Show up, stay there, and get the words
down.
7. Do your
homework. This is not simply a
Google search, people. Whenever
possible, go to the primary source.
Your story takes place at Yellowstone National Park? Go there. Your main character is a lawyer? Start hanging around a courthouse. Writing about a woman with Alzheimer’s? Get to know people who have
Alzheimer’s, their families, caregivers, doctors. Three-dimensional research will breathe three-dimensional
life into your story.
8. Cross-training. I write novels. I read everything—scientific journal
articles, medical textbooks, spiritual texts, nonfiction, memoir, classic
literature, contemporary fiction, plays, poetry. Listen to all kinds of music. Go to the theatre, the ballet, museums. Keep your senses open for what works
and what doesn’t, what’s beautiful, what makes you care, what lights you up,
for the universal threads of human experience.
9. Show
yourself. Be brave. Be vulnerable. Open your heart. That’s where the real stuff lives and
breathes. Now write.
10. You’re going to be dead someday. Write it now.
