Writing Prompt

(Associated Press) BEEBE, Ark. – Wildlife officials are trying to determine what caused more than 1,000 blackbirds to die and fall from the sky over an Arkansas town.

The Arkansas Game and Fish Commission said Saturday that it began receiving reports about the dead birds about 11:30 p.m. the previous night. The birds fell over a 1-mile area of Beebe, and an aerial survey indicated that no other dead birds were found outside of that area.

Commission ornithologist Karen Rowe said the birds showed physical trauma, and she speculated that "the flock could have been hit by lightning or high-altitude hail."

The commission said that New Year's Eve revelers shooting off fireworks in the area could have startled the birds from their roost and caused them to die from stress.

Robby King, a wildlife officer for the agency, collected about 65 dead birds, which will be sent for testing to the state Livestock and Poultry Commission lab and the National Wildlife Health Center lab in Madison, Wis.

Rowe said that similar events have occurred elsewhere and that test results "usually were inconclusive."

Go.

--MD 

Writing Resolution 2011:One Step a Day

So you're starting a new year with a shiny list of new resolutions. When it comes to your writing, they may take the form of a business plan, a nebulous list, even one big pipe dream that you're secretly willing to drop the moment that you hit the first patch of turbulence.

First off, chuck that last notion, the part where giving up, for any reason, remains a mental option. Tell yourself that real writers write, in the good times, the bad, and the seriously inconvenient. Remind yourself that everyone faces some adversity, whether its a failing marriage, a dying parent, a troubled child, a serious illness, or what have you, but only the truly committed, the exceptional continue their trajectory with laser-like focus.

As of today, you can stake your claim in that club. You can do it by asking yourself every single day this coming year, what one thing can I do (NOW) will move me a step closer to my goal?

Can I squeak out another 100 words when I'm exhausted?

Can I put the lessons of that craft book into practice or experiment with the technique I picked up at a workshop?

Can I revisit with fresh eyes the manuscript I set aside, reading it in the mental guise of an editor rather than a writer?

Can I be honest with myself, then find the courage to revise in a major and meaningful way?

Can I open myself to feedback with a contest entry or submission to an agent or an editor, once my work is the best that I can make it on my own?

Can I take a chance and risk my ego?

Can I stand again once I've been knocked down, rather than tallying my "failures" -- seeing them as necessary steps along the journey, like one of Thomas Edison's 10,000 ways NOT to invent the light bulb?

Can I do one thing, one active thing, each day? And I'm not talking here about attending someone else's workshop, reading someone else's book for research or to keep up with your market. Though the first is a good idea and the latter two are critical, they're not the same as putting yourself out there via your own efforts. They're more like an athlete who relies on watching film or studying old game plans without putting in the sweat equity to developing his/her own skill and sense and muscle.

So share with me if you will. What is your writing resolution, and what one step are you going to take today in that direction?

Revisiting the decisions that successfully transformed my writing strategy for 2010

My dad always said, "Plan your work, work your plan." We in the business of reeling and writhing - I mean reading and writing - especially need the structure of a yearly business plan and five-year vision plan. My policy is to get that sucker on paper by the last day of December so I can get up January 1st, load the Christmas tree out the door and hit the ground running. I mean writing.

Last year, I saw an item in Scott Jeffrey's Enlightened Business blog that blew my mind a little. "5 Powerful Decisions to Transform Your Business" radically changed my 2010 business plan. Scott's original post makes great sense for any company, but I tweaked it for writing, applying the same principles to the soul proprietorship that is the corporate body for most working authors.

When I posted it on the blog here, I optimistically said, "These transformative rules have seriously adjusted my thought process and just might make 2010 my best year ever." As it turns out, 2010 was the most successful year of my career thus far. So maybe the advice bears repeating...

#1 Decide to focus on your best customers.
This is that "laser like focus" Colleen talks about, and it goes beyond cultivating a readership. It also speaks to the relationships we build with our publishers, agents and fellow writers. I think we have to broaden the meaning here to focus on how our time and energy is most productively spent.

#2 Decide to focus on building a highly functional team.
Three essential teammates for writers: A smart, aggressive, like-minded agent. A smart, supportive, collegial critique group. Domestic allies who understand what you do. Team-building begins with letting those key people know how deeply and sincerely grateful we are for their support.

#3 Decide to grow from within.
Scott's post talks about a "corporate culture" that aligns core values. For a company of one, that means being the industry you want to work in. Organized. Optimistic. Perseverant. That's not what you do; that's who you are. Seriously consider your artistic philosophy, then embrace and embody it without apology or compromise. To thine own self be true. All other ground is quicksand.

#4 Decide to be the best at something.
"This decision requires sacrifice and focus," says Jeffreys. Malcolm Gladwell hypothesizes that you're the master of a craft after 10,000 hours. You've really got to LOVE what you do to rack up that kind of mileage. What is it about this work that gives you that chill on the back of your neck? Dialogue? Sense of place? Untying a Gordian knot of a plot? I think that frisson of yes becomes an affinity at about 3,000 hours. After 6,000 hours, the affinity becomes a knack. Somewhere around 9,000 hours, the knack becomes a strength. And once you've mastered your craft, that strength becomes your brand.

#5 Decide on a more compelling future for your organization to rally around.
The publishing industry has undergone a seismic shift. We're in the wild, wild west, my darlings. Anything is possible, so why not envision something wonderful? What is the essence - the high concept, if you will - of what you want out of this industry? (For me, it's "fair pay for good art".) Envision that future and earn it.

We live by decision. It's that simple. Large and small choices shape an office environment, a day, a career, and ultimately a life. That's the terrifying, thrilling possibility for transformation in every moment.

You Can Now Lend Kindle Books

. . . and here's the link that tells you how.

Thanks, by the way to all of you who are using your gift cards to buy my books (and the books of all BoxOcto writers) on Kindle.  At least, I imagine that's what's accounting for the uptick!

Buy This Book: Poets for Haiti

I seem, at the end of the year, to be on a bit of a buy-books-for-a-cause tear.  Poets for Haiti is a collection now available from Yileen Press. From the publisher: "Six weeks after the city of Port-au-Prince was brought to its knees by one of the most destructive earthquakes on record - 18 remarkable writers including Robert Pinksy, Rosanna Warren, and Gail Mazur, joined together at Harvard University campus and demonstrated the power of the spoken word. That benefit reading was a vital and galvanizing event, and this anthology has been created to capture some of the magic that was sparked that night. With stunning artwork by some of Haiti's most prominent visual artists, the volume is itself a work of art. All proceeds from the sale of this anthology will go to Partners in Health to benefit the people of Haiti."

Silencing the Noise

The carols fall quiet. The merrymaking crowds disperse. The batteries are all inserted and the devices charged.

I switch off every one of them and vanish into creamy pages. (This year's choice, Jim Gorant's THE LOST DOGS: Michael Vick's Dogs and Their Tale of Rescue and Redemption was an outstanding choice, fascinating and involving on many levels. The kind of book that serves up an education in irresistibly-engaging nuggets. And, thank goodness, a dog book whose ending didn't leave me weeping.)

Late in the night, I close the cover. I feel the rhythm of my breaths, the strong thump of my heartbeat, the quiet space opening inside me.

It is the space that in the coming days, will fill slowly with my own words, with a story only I can tell, characters I will introduce to others.

Though the computer is my virtual notebook, that space remains unplugged today as the writer in me reclaims her space, her time, her balance.

Counting

On a snowy morning two weeks ago, I went down to the Matheson Nature Preserve to take part in the annual Christmas Bird Count.  Marcy and Mary were waiting for me, coated, as I was, in shiny materials; the snow glanced off our shoulders in flakes that thinned and thickened and then thinned again.  A clumsy stagehand seemed to be in the clouds, that morning.  He couldn't get the amount right.  "I don't know if it's going to get heavier or not," Marcy said.  "But let's go on in."  We ducked into the brush, binoculars bouncing off our chests.

How we do love to count things and balance them out, at the end of a year. I have a friend who counts all her blessings.  Literally.  Writes them all down, with numerals to the left and periods to the right:

1) Health.
2) House.
3) Car still runs.

How we love to make lists--the best films, the best books, who's the hottest, who's the richest, how many mallards are on the water (three), how many harriers in the tree (two, the Northern), how many goldfinches in the bush (one, the Lesser; none in the hand).

I know writers who count how many words they've written.  Other friends tally up how many pounds they've lost, or gained.  My husband does this.  I don't like scales.  I use the mirror as a thermometer, stand naked, see where the blood pools.

Businesses count their sales.  AIDS, heart disease, cancer counts its losses.  Today, Miguel, hiking above the Preserve as I was, said there had been hardly any geese around this year, but he could remember when they were as dense in the air as the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz.

"I guess I have sort of a weird way of tallying things," he said apologetically.  "It's the way my imagination works."

Not at all.  I knew exactly how many he meant.

I used to count my dolls, when I was a girl, adding in the ones Christmas had added.  My satisfaction was like a farmer's looking over stored seed.  My husband counted his marbles.  My grandmother, who starved during the Second World War, reduced to eating boiled grass, counted the cans of peas and carrots in her garage.  I can't count how many times we had peas and carrots.  I have friends who won't buy any gifts until after Christmas; they need the discounts.

I asked Marcy how many times she'd done the Christmas Bird Count.  Ten years and ten times, she told me, and five times as the leader, responsible for all the counting teams in Grand County.

This was only my second time on her team.  Last year, we'd seen a bald eagle together.  But that day it had been sunny and clear.  This year, things were eerily quiet.  The snow stopped, not on a dime but down a long ramp, then turned to freezing rain.  A dozen Eurasian collared doves squatted in a cottonwood, puffed and silent.  I recorded their number in our waterproof journal.  After a while, we noted an overabundance of magpies and robins.  Nothing against them, you know, but you always hope to see something extravagant.  Over the sloughs a tide of starlings rose.

"200?" I asked

"300?" Mary asked.

"500," Marcy said.

The more familiar you are with a thing, the better you are at counting it.  Astronomers are a wonder with stars; a baby can't count its toes.  It's all so overwhelming, at first.

"Are those," Mary pointed high along the ridge line, "the same three mallards we saw on the water?"

"Let's say yes."

"Have we counted those magpies already?"

"Let's say no."

I asked Marcy if there was something she'd always been dying to see in the Preserve, but never had; she told me every year she hoped for a pygmy owl.  It was just dark enough, in this bad weather, she said, that owls might be out.  Nearly crepuscular.  (Google has a new website that counts how many times a word has been used in print between the years 1800 and 2000.  "Crepuscular" is on the decline.)

No sooner had Marcy said this than I started imagining I was hearing hoots.  It's a problem writers have.  We imagine pygmies where there aren't any.

At noon we started getting hungry and needed a break.  We turned around.  You don't count the birds on the way back unless you see a new species; they're probably the same ones you've counted already.  We saw the same robins, or anyway decided they were; instead of owls, we came across a family of big-eyed, big-eared mule deer.  A female, two young 'uns, and across the trail from them, rutting, a six-pointed buck.  All four froze and stared at us.  We froze and stared back.  One of the youngsters, not knowing any better, drew closer.  In the buck's eyes I imagined I read:

How many?

What species?

Greater or Lesser?

Barbara Walters annually tallies up The Ten Most Fascinating People of the Year.  I always hope for something extravagant, but am generally disappointed.

Lesser, I answer.  Though doing the best we can.

A buck can't even count the points over its own head.

But he can feel the weight, I hope, and knows, as time passes, he is more than he was.

--MD


Photo credit: Bruce Barone

Chop Wood, Carry Water

I read Dorian Karchmar’s advice and then Joni’s and Colleen’s year-in-review entries and it struck me how their experiences so clearly embody that advice. So much of what is worthwhile in any undertaking, whether it is writing or cooking, gardening, whatever, is how willing we are to do the grunt work, put in the sweat equity. That Zen saying comes to mind, the one that goes something like: Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. Substitute finding representation and/or publication for enlightenment and, to me, it's the same. Like the moments of epiphany, the moments of stellar success are cast across a broad and hopefully serviceable and sturdy fabric woven from hours of labor some of which may never bear obvious fruit as both Colleen's and Joni's year-end reviews reveal. Admiration, respect and esteem is due to them both and to my other critique partners, Wanda and TJ, and to any one of us and all of us who have put in this time out of love and the determination to climb the mountain that we might better shine and share our creative light. Combined it becomes a force of joy and encouragement that energizes and nourishes each of us. That’s why it’s important that we do it.

The gifts received from the work, from the support of each other through the process may not be as showy, as celebrated as landing that agent or that book contract, but they are as valuable and perhaps even more enduring. The found treasure, or pay-off, if you will, is in the work, in the quieter turning over of the days, in the building of the words, sentences and paragraphs into something that resembles the heart’s vision and this in spite of, or maybe because of the naysaying “New York gatekeepers” and the rest who lack faith, who discount the value of individual expression. So hats off to all of us and here’s to all of us that in 2011 we may find the success we desire and also the reward that is folded into the simple act of showing up and inviting our muse. Here’s to keeping the lamps lit and the fires burning!

Magic and Music and the Sacrifice of Christmas

Before I started working on this little thing called a novel, I was a church musician. From choral oratorios to operettas to Native American chants to plainsong to black gospel to Contemporary Christian, I sang it. At one point I was spending more than 20 hours a week singing, serving as both a soloist for a Sunday morning traditional service and the worship leader in a heavily electronic praise band (We used to do a Christian cover of Van Halen's "Jump" that knocked off everyone's socks--and maybe their eardrums, too.)

And every Christmas and Easter I'd do no less than three services (sometimes five). Normally, right about now on Christmas Eve, I'd be well into the first of three candlelight Christmas Eve services, singing hymns and gospel and beautiful pieces of music like this and this .

But for the past three years, I've had a new tradition on Christmas Eve. Yes, I still go to one service. And I still sing happily and heartily from somewhere near the back pews. But I don't sing in choir anymore, or sing solos, because, when I started getting serious about my writing, my music was something I had to give up. It was hard for me to, and some days I still grieve it. And I hope that at some point, I can figure out a way to sneak music (and theatre and art, sigh) back into my life. But for now, the book reigns supreme, and most of my discretionary time is spent writing.

So instead of spending the day getting ready to sing in several services and running around all nervous and excited and dressed in musician-standard black, now I make sure to put in at least four hours on the book on Christmas Eve. I pray before and afterwards, and I allow God to recenter me on my project, my writing, and on His call for my life. And then I go visit people, or sometimes drop by a friend's annual Christmas party, and then end the day by finding a church that's new to me and dropping in to sing. This way there's no pressure, no "where have you been?" or "Hey Kathryn, quick, let's get you a choir robe!" It's strange. It's a little lonely. But it's beautiful. And I'm coming to cherish this quieter, more hermit-like existence, even though it's not what I'm used to. It seems to resonate with the deepest chords of me.

Anything that's important, anything that's worth doing requires sacrifice. Whether that's allowing your voice to be shaped by and blended with others, writing a novel that may never see the light of day but doing it anyway because you know you have to, washing the flies off and feeding a homeless man, or sending your Son to save the world.

Peace. And Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

View from the Trenches:A Look Back at 2010

Like my good friend Joni, I've had a 2010 filled with lots of great reading, a whirlwind of writing activity, and high points enough to balance out the low.

This year has seen two new releases for me, a single title romantic suspense I was very proud of, Touch of Evil, and "Lethal Lessons" in Deadlier Than the Male, my first novella and offering with a new-to-me publisher, which was written with the very talented Sharon Sala. That book marked my first appearance on the Waldenbooks/Borders Group bestseller list, and an older book of mine, Triple Exposure, surprised me by zooming to the #1 spot on the Kindle bestseller list for several glorious days. (And yes, I was excited/nerdy enough to save a screen shot of my book perched atop Stieg Larsson's trilogy for that brief moment in time.)

In addition, I've sold two more books and look forward to publishing Capturing the Commando, my debut with the Harlequin Intrigue line, in June 2012, followed by Shadowed Dawn (Harlequin Intrigue Shivers) in September 2012. I've also produced other proposals, which are currently being shopped.

Along with a daunting writing load, I have just completed my second and final year as VP of the West Houston Romance Writers of America, where I thoroughly enjoyed selecting and booking speakers for the group's meetings. I did quite a few of my own speaking gigs as well this year, including presentations to RWA groups in San Diego, Orlando, Dallas, and Austin. And with an out-of-town relative ill, I've spent far too much time on the road, leaving me less time for reading, recreation, family, and friends than I've had in the past.

Though I'm happiest when busy, I hope to find a better balance in 2011. I also hope to sell a Labor of Love suspense project I've invested heart and soul and countless hours creating and complete a companion project to go with it. I don't kid myself. It's a daunting proposition in a rapidly-shifting publishing environment. With my former single title publisher moving to an electronic-only format, I am looking to make a change -- something that can be challenging at the best of times.

But I remain infused with hope, in love with storytelling, and invested in continuing to mine my words for my sustenance to the best of my ability. I'm certain that this coming year, like 2010, will bring both challenges and high points, and that I will continue to count the friendships I've developed (some of which began right here at Boxing the Octopus) among the latter.

Though this year in publishing has been especially treacherous, with its rapidly-shifting currents, this business has never been a business for sissies. One has to possess not only the dream, the talent, and the persistance, but the tolerance for risk and change (and/or a lifetime supply of Tums) to go with it. If you're looking for stress-free, if you're looking for security, you've bought into the wrong ambition, as my 2010 has definitely proven. But if you're looking for the ride of a lifetime and a shot at sharing your vision in words, Boxing the Octopus may just be the life for you.

May your 2010 have been filled with more highs than lows and your outlook for the next year be merrier than ever.

Merry Querying

Check out writer JM Tohline's EXTENSIVE blog post on The Biggest Mistakes a Writer Makes When Querying Literary Agents in which 50 agents respond to the question: "What is the single biggest mistake writers make when querying you?" Tohline notes that most agents began their response with: "'Only one? How about several!"

Tohline writes, "Yes, reading this will take up a bit of your time (20-30 minutes, to give you a fair projection), but…how important is the success of your novel to you? You've (presumably) spent hundreds of hours planning, writing, editing, and perfecting your manuscript. Now, it is time to treat your query with the same respect."

#BuyThisBook: Last minute gift idea for 20something guys who are (let's face it) impossible to figure out

Go with a graphic novel. There are some brilliant ones out there. Last year I gave my son David Mazzucchelli's mind-expanding Asterios Polyp. This year he's getting Carnet De Voyage (Travel Journal), Craig Thompson's travel sketchbook which chronicles his wanderings in Africa and Europe.

"They say 'Wherever you go, there you are....' I thought with Morocco, I'd be setting out on some exotic adventure, but it turns out I'm just a simple, quiet fellow."