Tag Archives: writing

Finding Time (for ANYTHING) as a Parent

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72989018_10218783217626498_4969613487476047872_nBeing a parent is HARD. You know this, I know this, everyone knows this. We’ve all heard about the sleepless nights for parents of newborns, the difficulties of finding one’s parenting style (trying to protect your child without becoming a helicopter-parent), the tantrums, the sick days, the anxiety of raising an entire person.

But one thing that isn’t spoken about enough, in my opinion, is the loss of time. When you become a parent, you change the entire content of your household, your life.

When we get married, or even move in with someone, we enter into a contract with that person. An agreement to make adjustments to our own way of living in order to accommodate the other. This could be as simple as changing how we load the dishwasher, or as complicated as changing our style of communication. We make certain sacrifices to shift our way of living to make room for the new partner and their way of living, and they do the same. In a good relationship, those sacrifices are balanced and fair, and both partners are glad to do it in order to reap the joys of the new relationship.

The same goes for parenting. Except you multiply everything by about a thousand. Or million. Or billion.

For me, at least, my entire center of gravity shifted. My main purpose in life was now to be a mother. A GOOD mother.

I didn’t necessarily lose who I was, but who I was shifted. Dramatically. I was a mom first, and everything else second.

This, obviously, put a strain on my marriage. I was a wife, yes, but a mom first. Both my husband and I had to chart new territories. And even though we had been partners for about 15 years before becoming parents, it felt like we were starting from scratch in a lot of ways.

Five years into parenthood and I think we’ve found a better balance, but it was something that we had to learn to do. Something we had to prioritize, otherwise it never would have happened.

But that (my marriage) was just one aspect of myself that I needed to re-discover. I’m still working on the rest.

Pre-mommyhood, I was a writer, a dancer/performer, a softball player, etc. Post-mommyhood, I barely have time to make it to a single softball game during the week, and when I do, it feels like I’m risking all the hard work I’ve put into my relationship and into being a good mother. Dancing and performing? I have tried to do one performance a year, a single-night show with as few rehearsals as possible. I love it, and although I long to perform in an actual show (which usually has a 6-week rehearsal period followed by a 6-week run), I know that is still very far off.

Writing? Well, I’m happy to report that this year I’ve finally managed to squeeze it back in. I picked up a novel that I had started writing before getting pregnant, trying to ignore the last “date modified” entry, which was more than 5 years prior. The first several attempts at “writing” were spent re-reading what I had already created (what felt like) a lifetime ago. Then, I took a deep breath, and started typing.

The wheels that I had feared were rusted from years of disuse slowly but steadily started to turn, and the more I wrote, the faster they spun. I hadn’t lost my ability to tell a story. I hadn’t lost this part of myself. I had just put it in a box for a while, and when I dusted it off and re-opened it, it was still there. I usually only manage to write a few hours a month. But… I’m writing again.

I tell myself that when my daughter is old enough to have her own hobbies, I will have more time for my own again. But in the meantime, I’m going to steal whatever few moments I can. I’ll squeeze in a date three times a month with my husband. I’ll go to weekly softball games in Spring and Summer. I’ll do that one dance show in winter. And I’ll take that 20 minutes at lunch, that 40 minutes on the weekend, that 30 mins after my daughter falls asleep to sit at my computer and write.

Because part of being a good parent is being true to yourself. And this is part of who I am.

Backward Thumbs

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This will seem like a weird analogy, but bear with me.

Imagine for a second that your thumbs are backward. Most other people’s thumbs are the “regular” way, but not yours. Now imagine you’re 5 years old and in kindergarten and learning how to write. The school system doesn’t check for backward thumbs, and doesn’t have any policy in place to teach you differently even if they did realize your thumbs were backward. Imagine how hard it would be to write with a standard pencil and paper and finger formation, and how frustrating it would be when the teachers would only teach how to do it for “normal” thumbs. Your grades would plummet. People would assume you were being lazy. Or maybe you were dumb. “Writing isn’t that hard, why can’t you do it right?” “Practice harder.” “Don’t you realize how important good penmanship is?” “You look like an idiot with that handwriting.”

boy confused with lots of homework

Now imagine you’re all grown up, having gone through 12 grades of that. Your penmanship still sucks despite the fact that you’ve worked harder than anyone else in the class for 12 long years. But at least you’re out of school now, right? Penmanship doesn’t have to be a part of your daily life anymore. You’re certainly not going to get a job as a calligrapher, so it isn’t that big of a deal, right?

Now imagine that suddenly instead of talking face to face or via phone, everyone prefers to write letters. At work, even though you didn’t pursue a job in the handwriting field, you’re now expected to write letters every day. Tons of them. To colleagues, bosses, clients. And in personal life, no one calls anymore, but instead they post handwritten notes on the bulletin boards. You want to keep up with your friends, share your ideas, get invites to parties, etc., but it’s really hard to do it unless you write notes too.

So you do. You spend 10 times as long as your peers to write these notes, erasing and re-writing the letters to try to get them as clear and straight as you can, but your thumbs are still backwards and you’re still using pens and paper and handwriting skills that were meant for forward-thumbed people. Your notes aren’t perfect. After 15 minutes, you have a 4-sentence note that most people could jot down in 2 minutes. It’s squiggly and crooked, but it’s readable, it makes sense, and most importantly, it’s actually really funny. Or poignant. Or important.

Now imagine posting that note on the wall. Some of your friends post back about how funny or poignant or important it was, sharing their own reactions to your thought. But one of your friends posts a note stating how squiggly and crooked your handwriting is, and that it really ought to be smooth and straight.

Does that friend honestly think you don’t know that? That you didn’t spend 7 times as long as s/he would have to make it as smooth and straight as possible before posting? That you hesitate to even WRITE notes because they take so long, are so frustrating to do, reveal to everyone how backwards your thumbs are, and because his/her negative reaction is exactly what you’re worried you’ll get? That you re-phrase your thoughts over and over again so that you can write them using as few words as possible?

This is what living in the age of social media and email is for people with dyslexia. It is under-diagnosed or diagnosed too late in life for so many people. And when it is diagnosed correctly and in a timely fashion, our schools have practically no systems in place to deal with it anyway. Public schools are locked into specific styles of teaching that leave a huge portion of the population behind. Kids aren’t taught the skills they need to work around their disabilities and find new paths to learn, and so they get stuck. And then on top of that, we pile on this guilt as if it is somehow their fault.

So the next time you have the urge to be a grammar Nazi, to point out someone’s spelling error, to correct word usage, or lament over punctuation misuse, STOP. Stop yourself and think for a moment. Is the writing in question a professionally published work (e.g., a novel, a resume, a business website, an official company flyer) in which we expect it to be professionally edited before being shared? Is the person who wrote it commenting on someone else’s poor grammar, and is therefore being hypocritical? Or is this person just writing a casual email or posting a FB note to share with friends, family members, and maybe colleagues? Because unless the content is something that should be professionally edited, your comments about spelling or grammar are WRONG. They are not welcome or appropriate. Spelling and punctuation are inconsequential in these forums in comparison to the content of what that person is trying to say. If you can’t see beyond them into the content of the text itself, that is your problem, not theirs. And pointing out or correcting someone in these forums is as rude as telling a person whose native language is not your own that their accent is bad. Or telling a person in a wheelchair that they ought to use the stairs.

Advice on Book Readings, from a Newbie

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Book'd in Burbank - July 2013In July I was invited to participate in Book’d in Burbank, a literary event with author readings, bookish entertainment, and social mingling for fans of the written word. It was the first time I’d been asked to read aloud a section of my book (DANCING WITH DANGER), and I was terrified.

Which is sort of funny, because I’ve been performing on stage since I was a kid. I’ve danced for crowds of rowdy sports fans, I’ve sung in theatres that seat hundreds of people, and I’ve undressed down to my bra and panties on screen for a film role. I’ve also given speeches, some rehearsed, some not, to groups of five to 50. Twice a week I stand in front of half a dozen men and women to teach beginning jazz dance.

Sure, I’ve gotten nervous beforehand.  Butterflies in the belly are just part of the game, and I’m no stranger to the shaky-hands, dry mouth, flushed cheeks we all get as a result of the adrenaline rush from being in front of a crowd.

But this was different.

They wanted me to read a selection from my book. My baby.  The manuscript I’d struggled to write for over a year, and then spent another year revising before finally getting published. My precious novel that I secretly stalk on Amazon, and Goodreads, and BarneandNoble.com to see if anyone new has posted a review for it.

Oh, dear lord, what had I gotten myself into?

Questions and doubt and nerves sprung to life in a frenzy, like cats at the sound of a can opening. What section should I read? How many pages? How much background should I provide before starting?  Am I supposed to use voices? What if people can’t understand me? Do I have to start at the beginning of the book? What if I give too much away and no one wants to read the book after? Where’s my chocolate???

I forced myself to take a deep breath.  As the first order of business, I found my chocolate.

chocolateAs the second order of business, I sat down and thought about it from the perspective of the reader: what would I want to hear from an author?

I decided I’d want to hear something that would give me a sense of the characters in the book and a taste of the author’s voice/writing style.  The plot wouldn’t matter as much, since authors could give a quick introduction at the start that would serve as a back-of-book blurb.  I’d want it to be long enough to get a good taste, but not so long as to drag. I made a note to choose a section that would allow listeners to get a feel for who the hero or the heroine (or both) really were, and that would leave the audience wanting more.

I then turned to my RWA sisters and sought their advice. Had any of them done this before? Any words of wisdom to share?

Luckily Dee J. Adams, sister LARA member and multi-published author, answered my call.  “There’s no law that says you have to start at the beginning,” she assured me. In fact, the sample on Audible of her most recent audio book was taken from a later chapter, rather than the opening one.

As an actress and dialogue coach for television, Adams also had some great advice regarding mechanics, and she reminded me to read slowly and enunciate. “Let people take in the words and visualize the picture you are creating,” she advised.

One area I was particularly concerned about was being able to give the characters enough of their own voice to distinguish them.  As any good writer, I didn’t have a tag after each line of dialogue identifying who the speaker was.  Perfectly fine for reading, but when spoken out loud, I’d have to make sure it was obvious which character was speaking. “You can give each [character] their own voice by changing the pace or tonal qualities without having to worry about creating a distinct voice for each character,” Adams assured me. “Don’t do a voice you’re uncomfortable with. All the characters are your voice with subtle differences to denote the change of character.”

This was good advice, but took a lot of practice.  At one point I had narrowed down my book selection to two scenes, the first had two male characters and one female character, and the other had two females and a male. I ended up going with the latter, and this was partially due to the fact that I was having a difficult time creating enough of a difference between the two men’s voices without overdoing it. The scene with the two females was also challenging because one of them was a primarily Spanish-speaking character, but once I managed to speak her dialogue with just the tiniest hint of a Spanish accent, it worked well.

Adams’ advice to stick with what was comfortable was probably the best advice I received.  My novel is steamy, and there are some dance sequences and love scenes that will set your panties on fire. I’m very proud of these chapters and their panty-scorching abilities. But after a bit of practice I determined that there was no way in hell I was going to read any of them aloud. The words in these sections were seductive, but my ultimate goal wasn’t to seduce the audience, I just wanted to engage them.

In the end, I decided on a section from the end of the first chapter.  It was early enough to not ruin any of the plot and allowed the listening audience to get to know the characters in the same way that the reading audience did.  I cut out a few sentences here and there, mostly sections that provided background that are relevant when reading the entire book, but weren’t necessary for the section I was reading at the moment. Since it was from the end of a chapter, it had a finish that deliberately enticed the audience to read/hear more, and yet was still satisfying.

I practiced and practiced and practiced and practiced. I created a cheat sheet with the text printed in large font, line breaks for when I wanted to pause for effect, and italicized words to remind me of the correct emphases. Each character’s dialogue was color-coded so I could know at a glance who was speaking and make sure I was using the right “voice.”  I performed it in front of a mirror, read it for my hubby, and recorded myself.

And all my work paid off!  Aside from a brief moment of panic when I attempted to make eye contact with the audience and subsequently lost my place, the big event went well. People laughed at the jokes, sighed at the sweet moments, and cheered at the end.  At the after-party I received several compliments and was asked how many times I’d done it, and I spent the next half hour basking in the glory of their surprise when I confessed I had been an Author Reading Virgin until that night.

Book'd in Burbank - Laura Sheehan - Dancing with Danger

(photo by Judy Diep)

So now that I’m a successful, experienced, old-hat Author Reading Expert, allow me to pass on the wisdom I’ve learned over the years, er, weeks:

  • Don’t worry if you stumble over a few words. No one is expecting perfection. Be like Dory and just keep swimming.
  • Find a section you are comfortable with, in terms of content as well as the delivery required.
  • Don’t read a section that requires too much backstory.  Your intro should identify the characters, their names, and the general idea of the scene. (E.g., “Lily is a dancer who is working at a coffee shop to make ends meet. Her best friend, Judy, works at the coffee shop along with her.  They are in the middle of their shift when Marc, an L.A.P.D. officer, comes in for a drink.”)
  • Practice. Practice. Practice some more.
  • Record yourself. Yes, I know, I hate the sound of my own voice too. But I guarantee you that no one else thinks you sound weird. The point of the recording is to check for enunciation and slurred words. Be sure you are speaking loudly enough and clearly enough to be understood.
  • If the host of the event doesn’t do so for you, don’t be shy about introducing yourself and your book to the audience in the best light possible. If you’re a NYT bestseller, by Jove, let them know!
  • On the same note, don’t oversell yourself or your book.  The audience is there because they like books and are curious to learn about yours. You don’t need to need to convince them that you are God’s gift to the writing world.  As Han Solo would say, “Don’t get cocky.”
  • Sloooow dooown. Adrenaline makes us want to charge full speed ahead, and that five-minute section you practiced will all of a sudden be finished in three.  Recognize this, and mark sections in your notes where you force yourself to pause.
  • Have fun!  The audience knows you’re a writer, not a speech-giver, they will be forgiving.  If you enjoy yourself, so will they.

Laura Sheehan is a romantic suspense, fantasy, and paranormal romance author.  Her award-winning debut novel, DANCING WITH DANGER, is available online at Amazon, B&N.com, and Red Sage. She can be found online at: ReadLaura.com; Facebook; Twitter (@TimesNewLaura); and Google+.

Guest Blogging at Savvy Authors about Organization for Writers

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Join me today at Savvy Authors for “A Pantser’s Guide to Organization.”

Savvy Authors
I’m a pantser, I admit it. Unlike “plotters,” who map out the details of their novel with outlines and character arcs and scene structures before writing, those of us who prefer to “write by the seat of our pants” tend to only have a general direction for our material before we take off.

But although my stories seem to grow organically, sprouting somewhat willy-nilly from the garden of my imagination, I don’t have the luxury of behaving in such a manner when it comes to my career as an author.

I have discovered, sometimes the hard way, that I need to be organized, diligent, and often (gasp!) plan ahead when it comes to managing and advancing my business as an author.

Almost every aspect of being a professional author requires some organizational structure, even if your story development process doesn’t.

So join me at Savvy Authors today to learn how organization can help authors during the writing process, throughout the querying process, and for tax purposes.

A Dancer’s Guide to Writing

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I began dancing when I was ten years old, and have never stopped.  Ballet, jazz, tap, modern, musical theatre, I love it all. To me, my passion for dance plays perfectly into my passion for writing.

How, you ask?

Dance is communication.  Dancers have the ability to manipulate their body with musicality and form; good dancers can do this while also conveying emotion; and great dancers will make all of that seem inconsequential as they transport you to another world.  And writers do all of this with their words, rather than their bodies.

I firmly believe that everyone can dance.  All you need is the desire to do so, and the courage to get your butt onto the dance floor.  The same is true for writing: Everyone can write, all you need is the desire and courage to do so. But the difference between a dancer and a great dancer is the same difference between that of a writer and a great writer: passion and training.

So in that vein, here is my Dancer’s Guide to Writing:

  • Know your craft. You cannot become a prima ballerina without knowing how to plié. So don’t assume you can write the next bestseller until you understand the importance of grammar, character development, and story pacing.
  • Practice makes perfect.  Even Baryshnikov, one of the most celebrated ballet dancers in history, knows he must take class everyday. Writers are no different.  Your first draft will never be perfect.  Recognize that revisions are just a part of the writing process and be prepared to sweat through them regularly.
  • Merde. Just as actors tell each other to “break a leg” before a performance, ballerinas will wish each other “merde.”  In French (ballet’s mother tongue), merde means “shit.”  Legend says that this tradition began back in the days of the horse-and-carriage, where the success of a show could be measured by the size of the audience (and therefore the number of horse-led carriages).  In short: the more horseshit in front of the theatre, the better.  So what does this have to do with writing?  The more successful you are, the more shit you will have to put up with.  Erroneous reviews, ridiculous criticisms, unfair expectations… shit will happen.  Expect it.  Welcome it. It means you’re doing something right.
  • Dance like no one is watching.  Don’t hold back out of fear of what people might say or think.  As an artist, you must be willing to lay yourself bare.  Don’t cater to an audience, your passion must come from within. How can you inspire others if you do not inspire yourself?
  • Do it full-out.  In dancer terminology, there are two ways of dancing: marking it, and doing it full-out. Typically, dancers only “mark it” when they are learning a new piece of choreography, but once the steps have been committed to memory, dancers are expected to do it “full-out.”  In other (more vulgar) words, “marking it” means half-assing it, whereas “full-out” means balls-to-the-wall.  Marking it might be easier, but you’ll never learn what you’re capable of until you go full-out.
  • The show must go on. The lead has laryngitis, your costume ripped, the stage manager is drunk, someone spilled water on the stage, and there are only eight people in the audience?  Doesn’t matter.  Life is always going to throw roadblocks that may make you feel like there is no chance of success.  Ignore them.  Don’t let anything distract you from your goals.  The page is your stage, and no matter what, the show must go on.
  • Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.  Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers had it right: don’t let mistakes keep you down.  “Work like a soul inspired, ’til the battle of the day is won.”

Ruth St. Denis once said that dance is a form of communication that can “express what is too deep to find for words.”

As authors, let it be your goal to prove St. Denis wrong.

~ Laura Sheehan, author of DANCING WITH DANGER (Red Sage)

Dancing with Danger (cover art) - by Laura Sheehan

[This article was originally published in the December 2012 issue of LARA Confidential, the newsletter of the Los Angeles Romance Authors (LARA) chapter of the Romance Writers of America and may be shared or reprinted with credit to author and chapter.]