There’s No One Right (or Write) Way

By Lois Winston

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Lately, I’ve wanted to crawl into bed, pull the quilt over my head, and not emerge until we return to a time before the pervasive “My Way or the Highway” mentality that has taken us to the edge of a cliff. Remember when people could agree to disagree and still be friends? Remember when we didn’t cringe whenever we attended family dinners that included certain relatives who hold opposing views and who take every opportunity to try to convince us that they’re right, and we’re wrong? Hold the roast beef and mashed potatoes. Pass the Tums and Xanax.

This “My Way or the Highway” attitude has seeped into nearly every aspect of our lives, even our writing lives. Internet articles and various “experts” (who may or may not actually be experts) tout the best way to write a novel, how to get an agent, how to market your books. They’ll tell you agents and editors only want A, B, and C. Or if you don’t do X, Y, and Z, you’ll never sell a book. Some of this information is only a click away, but others first want your credit card number before imparting their knowledge.

I’m on quite a few listservs with both published and unpublished authors. Every day an unpublished author will either post about great information she found online or ask whether such-and-such service is worth the money.

Writing scams are a topic for another day. Today I want to discuss information posted online or provided in other ways. Writers should never believe everything they read and hear. For one thing, much of it is often contradictory:

• Always plot out your novel.

• Plotting stifles creativity. Just write. 

• You must produce at least 1,500 words a day.

• Don’t worry about word count. Just write. 

• You must write every day.

• Don’t stress about writing every day. It’s counterproductive.

• Always write forward. Never go back to reread/tweak what you wrote the day before. 

• Always go back to reread/tweak what you wrote the day before.

• Never edit while you write your drafts.

• Whenever you change something, always go back and edit your other pages.

• There’s no such thing as writer’s block. 

• Writer’s block is real.

I have heard well-known authors state all the above. However, the statements were made in the context of what works best for them. Their process. Not as “rules” that must be adhered to if you want to get published.

I recently saw an interview with Ken Follett. He spends a year writing the outline for each of his books. He then sends successive drafts to family, friends, editors, and even historians he pays as consultants for their input. That’s the process that works for him. He wasn’t suggesting that his way is the only way to write. He wasn’t even suggesting that anyone should mimic his process. Yet, there are probably some who will come away from watching that interview thinking that Ken has the secret to success, and if they do as he does, they’ll get published.

I find it disheartening that so many writers are so desperate to get published that they spend too much time searching for a secret sauce that has never existed. They constantly fall into the trap of believing they should follow every piece of advice they come across. Their self-confidence continually takes a hit when what they believe to be the secret sauce doesn’t work for them.

But who are the experts doling out this advice they cling to? Sometimes, they’re not experts at all. In my writing infancy, I entered many contests for unpublished romance authors. When the contest was over, most supplied entrants with the judges’ scoresheets and comments. The draw of these contests was that the finalists were judged by editors and agents, and there was always the hope that these professionals would like what they read enough to request the full manuscript.

I finaled or won many of the contests I entered, but I also received some very questionable advice from some of the anonymous first-round judges. One wrote, “I don’t really understand point of view, but I’m marking you down because I don’t think you do, either.” There was nothing wrong with my point of view according to the two other judges who gave me top scores on point of view.

Another wrote, “Editors want the hero and heroine to meet within the first three pages. Yours don’t meet until the end of the first chapter.” That might be the case for a 45,000-word Harlequin short contemporary romance, but I had entered the mainstream category where manuscript lengths were a minimum of 85,000 words.

Advice is only as good as the expertise of the person giving it. However, even when the advice comes from an expert, that advice is always based on that person’s experiences. What has worked for them. It may be the best advice you ever receive. Or it may not work at all for you.

Process is individual and develops over time. No two writers approach their writing the same way. The trick is to keep learning and keep writing, but don’t ever believe everything about your writing sucks based on one rejection, one how-to book, one article, one author talk, or one conference. Or even multiple rejections and more than one person’s advice. After all, Stephen King had decided to give up after thirty publishers rejected Carrie. Luckily, his wife convinced him otherwise.

Yes, there will be aspects of your work that need improving. Every author I know wishes she could go back and rewrite her earliest books. Some have. We all continue to grow in our writing. As you work at your writing, you’ll hone your skills. You’ll develop confidence and hopefully learn to view “My Way or the Highway” advice through a more discerning lens.

Constructive criticism and advice should never be discounted. It very well may be exactly what your manuscript needs. However, that’s not the same as someone insisting that their way is the only way to success. Think twice about that kind of advice and always check the credentials of the person dishing it out.

Meanwhile, my only advice for dealing with family dinners that include a “My Way or the Highway” relative is to take a book with you and hide in an empty room if the conversation gets too heated.

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USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. A Crafty Collage of Crime, the twelfth book in her series, was the recipient of the 2024 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Comedy, and Sorry, Knot Sorry, the thirteenth book in the series, recently won the 2025 Silver Falchion Award for Best Comedy. Embroidered Lies and Alibis, the fifteenth book in the series, releases February 10th. Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com. Sign up for her newsletter to receive an Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mini-Mystery.

LIMITS

By Clay Stafford

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I was raised to believe that when I came to an obstacle, it was a personal shortcoming if I did not push through, a personal failure if I did not succeed, and a personal cowardice if I gave up. Those beliefs inhabited the marrow of my bones and festered in the recesses of my brain. I had no natural limits, none of us did, or so I thought and was bred to believe. Even giving credence to such an absurd suggestion felt irresponsible. I knew I and everyone else could overcome anything if we only pushed hard enough. There was no skill we couldn’t learn, no talent we couldn’t expand, no mountain we could not climb. I not only judged myself; I judged everyone. I taught it to my students and in my lectures. We all needed to be responsible for the optimal performance of our lives. It was called being dependable, being responsible, rising to the challenge, working harder and smarter, and pushing through. The push was always highly emotional, causing stress and conflict not only in me but in all my relationships, where others’ performances fell short, but I knew it was worth it. It brought out the best in all of us. Like a winning coach, I pushed myself and those around me. And when they pushed back, I viewed their lack of participation as denial and even laziness. Emotionally wrought, I could never see the mental clarity lost in this thinking. From the dejected faces of those I lived and worked with, it seemed I failed in the very presence that I thought I was being, the one I thought I was protecting. Even in that, I strove to do better.

The satisfaction of control brought me peace, or so I thought. I put myself in charge of my destiny. I oversaw my own future, and nothing could get in the way of that, and very little did. I offered every problem and relationship a doorway that could make things easier for me and everyone around me, but if it was blocked, I had no qualms about going through the wall. Pushing longer, harder, and stronger was, to me, a form of commitment. Staying with a problem until the end of the day, even if that day ran into the night, or even several days without sleep, was applaudable devotion and intention. Accepting limits or growing tired meant one had no self-respect. This was how a meaningful life was to be built; the lives of the great men and women I read in biographies exemplified that. They pushed through because they had something all of us could acquire: character. They built meaningful lives; I would, too. Endurance, discipline, and refusal to quit were the framework of success. Refusal to quit meant refusal to retreat, like cowards, like those who were weak. Even rest itself, I told myself, could wait. “I can sleep when I’m dead” was not uncommon coming out of my mouth in reply to those who were close to me and cared, as I popped my trucker’s caffeine pills, drank my ten Cuban coffees, and my gallon of daily tea.

The cost of this thinking and living with such force didn’t show up immediately. It took decades. That’s the deception we take to heart when we believe the deceitfulness chocked at us by the sycophants of the famous. The famous lied to the watching world, the obsequious flatterers lied to readers of books about great men and women, and then I took those as truths and lied to myself. Sure, the lies gave me extra waking time, or something that resembled it anyway. I learned how to stretch the day thinner, how to draw more from myself than I thought I could. The point that activity didn’t always equal accomplishment, though, was often lost on me. What I gained in hours, I lost, though I didn’t realize it, in life and relational clarity. After decades of this rat race, my attention to the important things, not just the walls to burst through, began to dull. My decisions about where to focus slowed. Simple things began to take longer, though I attributed that to age. Regardless, the very life I had always believed I was protecting by defining my own fate began to resist me.

I began to see, or rather I began to feel, that the very wall that I could not seem to push through was myself. Nothing dramatic happened to show me this. Fatigue didn’t announce itself to me publicly. Nothing in my life collapsed. Feeling tired all the time wasn’t bad; it was my baseline. Yet, focus began to take on the persona of irritation toward my work, myself, and the people around me. I no longer set out to tackle only the big things; small problems now carried more weight than they should have, and small mistakes by others began to irritate me. Life began to feel painful, even at times undesirable. Everything became such a big deal. I found that where I used to slam through walls, I began to make choices not out of intention, but out of relief. I became drawn to whatever would end the discomfort the fastest.

Being successful, I began to wonder, why did I feel at rock bottom? Being high in my profession, having relationships others would envy, having built the life I envisioned, something had to change, though I didn’t know how to give it a name. My choices began to become ill-guided, not from indifference, but from dullness. The part of me that once noticed nuance grew silent. Subtle distinctions in life, work, and people disappeared. I lost my sense of when effort was required and when time was the truer answer. I could still function, but I was compensating, now relying totally on force on everything where attention and inspiration once worked cleanly.

Then came denial, and the emotional cost that followed. Each time I overrode the yokes, big and small, that pulled me down, I taught myself not to listen. Signals that I used to welcome began to annoy me. They were inconveniences to my peace. Discomfort became something to suppress, to submit to silently rather than with understanding. Gradually, all trust eroded, not just in my body, mind, emotions, or energy, but in myself in general. A faint impatience began to settle in, yet flat, a sense that I was now pushing through life, all parts of it, still accomplishing, but rather than moving with it, things were no longer flowing.

As a result of shutting out the world and the world within my own head, my world narrowed. Limits began to change perspective. Everything became about getting through the day. Curiosity, my lifeblood, even began to fade. I knew something needed to be done, but that was the problem. I had everything I could ever want. Recovery from that seemed crazy and certainly ungratefully indulgent. Surprise began to have no place or excitement. My world was perfect. I was not in crisis, yet I was living as though I were. Survival mode replaced presence without my consent. Everyone around me felt it or felt the brunt of what I would not share.

I think the most dangerous part was how ordinary it all felt. Nothing told me to stop. Nothing told me to slow down. Nothing hinted at any type of collapse. Nothing told me I needed to stop bashing walls. No one told me I had a problem, or if they did, I didn’t hear. What I was doing, though, was operating below capacity, and I’d been doing it for way too long. I focused on my limitations to the point of obsession, at the expense of seriousness and gratitude about what I could control. There were limitations that I could not power through, I realized after too many years. And because I didn’t realize this earlier, all limitations, even challenges, began to operate out of the same intensity. Out of the blue, it hit me that if I couldn’t power through certain things that didn’t erase who I was or what I could become despite them. I realized that maybe those walls were there for a reason, that maybe I was meant to be something I didn’t consciously see myself as. The realization was slow and painful, but my life began to change. Centering took the place of warfare.

My limits took on a new light. They were never obstacles; they were misconceptions on my part. They were even guardians of who I was meant to be. The sad thing is, I had been deluded and deluded myself for a lifetime. I recognized the pundits of the super life were frauds. I began to respect those limits. At first, I didn’t respect limits dramatically or perfectly, but rather honestly, and, when I did, something softened inside me like the Grinch’s frozen heart. Efforts on things that were within my limits became cleaner. Decisions within my framework grew quieter and more precise. Life began to deepen again, rather than merely expanding. I began to do less because I stopped slamming into walls and instead spent my time doing more. That was the paradox. In fact, I did better at everything I did. The cost of refusing to stop at natural limitations had been the gradual loss of the very capacities that made my efforts meaningful in the first place. Limits and walls became not challenges to defeat, but invitations to stop long enough to acknowledge, honor, and preserve those things that did matter within the sphere of life I’d been given in which to live. Limits became no more than a beautiful river in my life, a life without a boat, that asked me to choose the path to the left or to the right when it told me in so many ways I could not cross but promised adventure no matter which direction I chose.

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Clay Stafford is a bestselling writer, filmmaker, and founder of the Killer Nashville International Writers’ Conference, Killer Nashville Magazine, and the Killer Nashville University streaming service. Subscribe to his newsletter at https://claystafford.com/.

THE CHAIR IS STILL THERE

By Clay Stafford

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Mostly working from home for the majority of my life, there was no boss to meet, no comptroller checking my clock-in for work, no meetings I had to be on time for, only me, waking up and stretching in bed, thinking of how I envisioned my day to play out.

Most days were and are filled with excitement. I knew what I was going to do. I loved what I did. I was blessed to be able to do it. Most mornings were filled with ambition and excitement, so I couldn’t wait to get to work and get started. But there were those dreaded mornings when I awoke, stared at the ceiling, and realized there was no fuel in the creative engine for the day. On those mornings, there was no urgency to get out of bed, no spark inspiring me to begin. There wasn’t even resistance. In the dim light of the morning sun coming through the cracks of the closed plantation shutters, there was simply a hollow quiet where momentum typically was and should have been. Those moments felt empty, nothing resembling the welcomed heaviness of life, just a distant void, as though everything that normally mattered had somehow, during the night while I was dreaming, slipped down the hallway to another bedroom and closed the door, sometimes even locking it behind it, climbing into the bed and pulling the covers over its head.

Those were days that felt like failures even before they began, and because I predetermined them while lying in bed, they usually turned out as I expected. I used to think I could only show up for my life when my inner world was in agreement, when want and purpose matched, when I knew why I was doing something, and when the effort made sense. I could only do things when I felt like it or when the meaning was clear. When that alignment was absent, I assumed the day was already lost and a wasted day of failure lay ahead. I felt it in my heart and even in my bones. I hadn’t yet learned that the real discipline of my life wasn’t built on feeling ready, but on returning.

It wasn’t until later in my life, when maybe maturity or practice, or even serendipitous events, proved me wrong, that I realized these mornings were simply a different kind of threshold, their own unique entry into a day that, at first glance, felt formless and uninspired. Somewhere along the way, I learned that discipline, what I needed to create the perfect day, was less about preplanning, force, or even intention, but more about presence.

I don’t know when my thinking started to shift. I certainly didn’t make it happen. I didn’t will it. It certainly wasn’t some trite self-help or productivity hack. It didn’t even arrive with some revelation. It came oddly and unplanned, as a habit. Whether I had the vision for the day or not, I got my coffee as usual, set up my desk, and sat down in my chair to work, even when I didn’t know what I wanted to work on or, if I did, even when I wasn’t inspired. Motivation didn’t earn me a spot at my desk. Routine did. On those days, I kept the bar low. I didn’t promise much to those hours except the assurance to my computer that I’ll be close by if needed. No plans were negotiated, no meaning defined, and rarely was any enthusiasm offered to the Muse as tribute. Sometimes on those days, I thought my purpose in life was to drink a cup of coffee, watch my birdfeeder, and ponder, in the world of evolution, what crazy lizard found itself jumping out of a tree and realizing it could fly, thus creating a new species of birds. In other words, with no plans or inspiration, I sat there because I didn’t know what else to do.

It surprised me at some point how little was required to sit there. It was freeing. Even on those hollow mornings, the chair was still there, waiting. I didn’t need conviction. I didn’t need direction. I didn’t need to believe that anything I was doing mattered. I only needed not to leave. I needed to sit with whatever drifted through my mind. The common thread behind it all was my chair, on productive days and on days of nothing. It was always sitting there, consistent, no matter where my head was. So, I returned to it, some days with more fervor than others, but always with a refusal to hand over control to the weather outside (I write outside on my porch) or even the weather, no matter how calm or turbulent, going on inside of me.

Those neutral days of nothingness were not heroic. They were days that neither lifted nor dragged, days that offered no motivational or dramatic reason or inspiration to move forward, but at the same time, no compelling reason not to be there. It seemed on those days that the world asked nothing of me other than attendance in that chair, across the lawn from the birdfeeder, pondering the processes of the past few million years.

When I think back on my own evolution now, what strikes me is not how much time I wasted sitting there, but rather how honest those hours were. Out of boredom, I did begin to tinker, but without the need or motivation to impress, accelerate, or aim beyond the moment, I moved straight to the essentials as they popped into my head. It was all rather casual. There was no adornment, no performance, no word count, no chasing of superiority. Just small, impulsive, inner-driven activities, whether rain or shine, just some sort of private continuity with days more productive, but with no invisible audience or ego applauding, but at the same time nothing left undone. When inspired, sitting in the chair, I did what I felt inspired to do, letting direction come from the nothingness.

Over time, something shifted. Those neutral (I wouldn’t call them wasted) days, those unremarkable returns to the chair each morning, began to alter the way I understood myself in the same way that I could envision lizards growing wings millions of years ago. I don’t think I ever patted myself on my back for my consistency of sitting in a chair (that hardly seems a heroic act), but I did begin to trust it as an inkling of something I couldn’t put my finger on began to take form in my consciousness, in my being. Showing up and sitting down, I began to sense that I did not need to feel aligned with my work or even with myself to remain connected. Just drink coffee and watch the birds, and occasionally look at my computer screen. I didn’t need the weather, inside or out, to give me permission. Before I stepped into the day, I needed to go to my chair and sit. And, surprise to me, somewhere along the way, my fingers would find their way to the keyboard, and I would start to type. Somewhere by the end of the day, I would pause and look back on all that I had accomplished, even though I had had no preplanned direction.

Trust accumulated in ways I couldn’t have articulated then, but it did soften the drama around the difficulty of being aimless. It quieted the argument between desire and duty. It reframed commitment as identity rather than effort. I began to see that most of what endures in life is built not on bursts of certainty but on the steady, unimpressive, evolutionary cadence of return.

The curious, but also understandable, thing is that the work of my life didn’t constantly improve in those days, but my relationship with my work, and even myself, did. Sitting down in my chair became less conditional, less dependent on mood or inspiration, or the unpredictable tides of self-belief or raw motivation. Sitting down in my chair became, instead, something like a morning welcome, a companionship, coming with the predictability and comfort of knowing that the sun will rise each day and I will sit: steady, imperfect, patient.

Looking back, I never found the dramatic clarity I once believed I needed to move forward. I saw something quieter. I discovered that life continues, like birds in flight, even when eagerness does not. I found that meaning doesn’t always come hand in hand with willingness. I discovered that neutrality is fertile in its own way. We don’t need a parade; we only need a chair.

I once thought that discipline was a loud, cinematic declaration, something founded in great ambition or proven with relentless, knock-the-walls-down drive, but the truth, for me, instead lived in a place outside on the back porch, an ordinary chair, waiting without fanfare, and asking for nothing other than my presence. “Come as you are,” it called. “If nothing else,” it said in its Southern way, “just sit a spell.”

Perhaps the unexpected lesson for me is this: the parts of life that endure are not always those born from passion, certainty, or predetermination while lying in the bed in the morning and staring at the ceiling with the morning light coming in through the shutters, but instead it is from the steady, unremarkable decision to get my coffee, in my routine, and sit in my chair long enough for meaning to find its way back. The chair is always waiting.

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Clay Stafford is a bestselling writer, filmmaker, and founder of the Killer Nashville International Writers’ Conference, Killer Nashville Magazine, and the Killer Nashville University streaming service. Subscribe to his newsletter at https://claystafford.com/.

Overcoming Blinking Cursor Syndrome

By Lois Winston

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I’ve heard some people state that there’s no such thing as writer’s block, that it’s all in your head, and you just need to snap out of it. Place your butt in your chair, your fingers on the keyboard, and just start typing!

I beg to differ. If something is keeping the words from flowing, it doesn’t matter if that something is physical, emotional, or mental. It exists. Anyone who claims otherwise has either been lucky enough not to experience writer’s block yet or is lying—to herself and/or to others. When life happens, it often impedes the muse, and every author at some point will find herself staring at a blinking cursor.

However, there are ways to overcome Blinking Cursor Syndrome, and they don’t involve purchasing additional software or downloading another social media app. My writing mantra has always been “Truth is Stranger than Fiction.” Many plots and characters in my books have been influenced by what’s going on in the world and how those events impact ordinary people.

The next time you find yourself suffering from Blinking Cursor Syndrome, try one or more of these tips:

Watch and read the news.

Too many people I know don’t regularly read, watch, or listen to the news. Big mistake, especially for writers. On any given night, a half-hour of world or local news will provide massive fodder for plots and characters.

From the time I began writing thirty years ago, I’ve kept a binder of interesting articles I’ve come across, clipping them from newspapers and news magazines or downloading them from the internet. Whenever I’m stuck for an idea, I pull out that binder and read through some of the articles in search of a nugget of inspiration. Even though I write mysteries, not all these articles are about criminal activity. My binder includes human interest stories, editorials, letters to Dear Abby, and even ads for odd mail-order products. Something will inevitably get my creative juices flowing.

Employ the fine art of eavesdropping.

I’m also a diehard eavesdropper. Instead of burying my nose in my phone, whether I’m standing on a supermarket line, in the theater awaiting the start of a movie, in a doctor’s waiting room, or even in a stall in the ladies’ room, I’m listen to conversations going on around me, especially phone conversations, which amazingly, are often on speaker in very public places. If I hear anything interesting (and I usually do), I’ll jot down some notes when I get into my car.

Be observant.

Stick your phone in your pocket and focus on the people you encounter as you go about your day. What are they doing? How do they react to and interact with others? Are they unique in the way they dress or look? Do they have any quirks? You won’t always come across someone worth remembering, but often, you will. Again, make notes for future reference.

In A Stitch to Die For, the fifth book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series, a murder occurs in the home across the street from Anastasia. Over the course of the series, the house is demolished and a McMansion built in its place. When I was mulling over ideas for the plot of Seams Like the Perfect Crime, the recently released fourteenth book in the series, I knew it was time for new neighbors to move into the McMansion. But who should they be?

I’ve had some very strange neighbors throughout my life, but the strangest were a couple who lived across the street from us twenty-five years ago. However, even though truth is often stranger than fiction, and my humorous cozy mystery series is populated with quite a few quirky characters, including my sleuth’s communist mother-in-law and a Shakespeare-quoting parrot, I wondered if readers would buy into a fictional version of my former neighbors. 

Barefoot and shirtless, the husband would spend hours mowing his dirt-packed, weed-infested front lawn. Except for rain or snow, every day throughout the year, he’d run the mower back and forth across the same postage stamp-sized patch until the mower ran out of gas. He’d then sit on the top step of his porch and guzzle beer until he either passed out or fell asleep, lying on his back with his massive beer belly protruding skyward.

His wife was odd in her own way. One day, I witnessed a sidewalk brawl between her and a woman she accused of having an affair with her weed-mowing, beer-guzzling husband.

To get a feel for how readers would react to characters based on this couple, I told my newsletter subscribers about them and asked if I should use them as inspiration for characters in my next book. The overwhelming consensus of those who responded was to go for it. I did, and I’m thrilled to report that so far, reviews are quite positive.

Along with the above three tips I’ve used to help me deal with Blinking Cursor Syndrome, here are a few others I find helpful:

Join a critique group or find a critique partner.

It always helps to have another writer or writers with whom to brainstorm and bounce around ideas. Let’s face it, sometimes we’re just too invested in our work to be objective. A good critique partner will bring a fresh set of eyes to your work and help you find a way out of that corner you’ve written yourself into.

Clear your overactive imagination. 

Sometimes our brains are so full of fragments of ideas that we find it difficult to narrow down the possibilities. If we choose A, will we regret not choosing B? What about C? Or D? When that happens, our imagination can work against us, paralyzing us with the fear of making the wrong choice. Try meditating. Or take a walk in the woods. Or a long, hot shower or bath. Wake up half an hour early to focus on one character or one plot point, ignoring everything else. Your brain is like your desk. If it’s too cluttered, you’ll never find what you need.

Give yourself permission not to write.

Some authors feel that the moment they finish a book, they need to start the next one. However, humans aren’t perpetual motion machines. If we want to nurture our creativity, we need to care for our bodies and minds, allowing them to rejuvenate periodically. Too often, we sabotage ourselves by believing we can never stop working. This is counterproductive, inevitably stifling our creativity.

When you begin to feel yourself succumbing to this way of thinking, walk away from the keyboard and screen. Take the day off. Or several days. Read a book for pleasure. Spend time on a hobby you’ve ignored for too long. Work in your garden. Do some volunteer work. Go shopping or out to lunch with friends. Take a short vacation or a staycation. Most importantly, step out of your writer’s cave. Give your brain and body a much-needed break. That blinking cursor is telling you that you need one.

Learn to say no.

Forgive me if this comes across as sounding sexist, but in my experience, this is a problem that affects women more than men. We have a hard time saying no, no matter what’s asked of us or by whom. Is it insecurity? A need to please? Or because we’ve been conditioned to believe we’re capable of accomplishing anything? After all, I am woman. Hear me roar! No matter the reason, from my own experiences and those of many of my friends, this inability to say no results in juggling too much, which creates an overabundance of stress and leaves less time for writing. Then, when we do find time to write, we pressure ourselves to get that self-imposed daily word count down, which creates even more stress. And thanks to all that stress, the words refuse to come.

The solution is as simple as not being so accommodating. Most people will always zero in on the one person they know they can wheedle, cajole, sweet-talk, or arm-twist into heading this committee or taking on that project, especially since most of these people believe, as writers, we don’t have “real” jobs (Which is a topic for another article). Resolve to grow a backbone, put your foot down, and say no now and then. You’ll find that when you free up writing time, your cursor will no longer blink you into a hypnotic trance.

Set a challenge for yourself.

Step away from trying to figure out whatever plot or character issue is causing Blinking Cursor Syndrome. Instead, find a recent news or human-interest story. Then, open a fresh document on your laptop or grab a pad and pen. 

After reading the article, allow yourself three to five minutes to put a “what if” spin to the article by answering each of the following questions:

1. Who is the protagonist?

2. Who is the antagonist?

3. Who are the secondary characters?

4. Where does the story take place?

5. What are the characters’ goals?

6. What are the characters’ motivations?

7. What are the characters’ conflicts?

8.What’s the basic plot?

9. What are the three major turning points of the plot?

10. What’s the black moment?

11. What’s the resolution?

When you’ve finished, study your answers. Chances are, your brain has subconsciously focused on the problem you put aside, and somewhere within the answers to those questions, is the solution to your blinking cursor. If not, you’ve got a head start on a new book. And that’s never a bad thing!

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USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. A Crafty Collage of Crime, the twelfth book in her series, was the recipient of the 2024 Killer Nashville Silver Falchion Award for Best Comedy. Learn more about Lois and her books at www.loiswinston.com. Sign up for her newsletter to receive an Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mini-Mystery.

Healthy Living Practices for Writers – Silent Killer: Imposter Syndrome

By Mary Lynn Cloghesy and Jason Schembri

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Did you know that you have a silent killer within you? One that is capable of not only derailing your writing life, but also your profession, personal relationships, and pastimes? Recent research has shown that creatives are uniquely susceptible to this disease due to the subjective nature of their work, the solitary aspects of their craft, and the competitive landscape of the arts. A whopping 70% of writers will suffer from this affliction, including some unlikely characters. Consider what Dr. Maya Angelou has said about herself and her work, “I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody, and they’re going to find me out.’” She’s not the only one. Even John Steinbeck has cried, “I am not a writer. I’ve been fooling myself and other people.” If the icons among us are negatively impacted by Imposter Syndrome, then what hope is there for the rest of us? Clearly, it’s critical to know what it is and how to deal with it in order to protect ourselves from this author interrupter. 

What is Imposter Syndrome?

While you may not know the term, I’m guessing you’re familiar with its symptoms. Ask yourself: Have I experienced persistent self-doubt or feelings of inadequacy despite evidence of success? Have I wondered if I was a fraud or feared being exposed as such regardless of my skills, qualifications or achievements? If so, you’re in the thralls of Imposter Syndrome. It’s a form of dysfunctional thinking that has been described as “chronic self-doubt and a sense of intellectual fraudulence that overrides any feelings of success or external proof of competence.” This mental affliction plays on your fears, needling you with subliminal suggestions, and causes you to question yourself, your talent, and your ability to achieve your dreams. It’s subtle, insidious, and stalking you right now. In fact, it’s such a common experience among writers that it could be considered an epidemic.

While Imposter Syndrome will cause you to hang your head in shame, it has many other faces. It will drive you to adopt the behaviours listed below rather than address its root causes, especially when you are feeling vulnerable, such as during the query process or in the midst of critiques. Here are the masks it wears:

• Perfectionism – Setting impossibly high standards and feeling like a failure when they aren’t met.

• Overworking – Trying to compensate for perceived inadequacies by working excessively.

• Discounting success – Attributing achievements to luck or external factors rather than talent, skill or effort.

• Fear of failure – Avoiding new challenges due to the fear of being "found out.”

Diagnosing Imposter Syndrome

To combat this disease, you must diagnose it correctly, but how do you know if you’re simply having a bad day or struggling with Imposter Syndrome? Frequency and consistency are important factors to consider, as are patterns in your thinking that reveal deep-seated worry and self-sabotage. Telltale signs that you are suffering from Imposter Syndrome include the following:  

• Negative Self-Talk

• Do you often think, "I’m not a real writer," even though you’re increasing your word count regularly and actively creating new works?

• Do you believe your work isn’t good enough, no matter how much you revise?

• Perfectionism & Procrastination

  • Do you keep rewriting the same passages because they’re "never good enough"?

  • Do you delay submitting work or starting a project because you fear failure?

• Dismissing Accomplishments

  • Do you downplay praise or attribute success to luck instead of your talent and hard work?

  • Even after recognition (awards, nominations, publication), do you feel like you don’t deserve it?

• Fear of Being "Exposed"

  • Do you worry that other writers, editors, or readers will figure out you’re a fraud?

  • Does the idea of publishing or speaking about your work make you anxious?

• Comparing Yourself to Others

  • Do you feel like other authors are "real writers," but you’re just faking it?

  • Do you look at their success and think, "I’ll never be as good as them"?

• Overworking to Prove Yourself

  • Do you push yourself to exhaustion, believing you must work twice as hard to deserve success?

  • Do you avoid celebrating milestones because you can’t accept you’ve really earned them yet?

What can you do about it?

Recognizing Imposter Syndrome is the first step. Take off the mask, look in the mirror, and say out loud, “I am a writer. I am accomplished, I work hard, and I deserve my success,” then notice how you feel. Free write about it. The key is to manage self-doubt rather than attempt to eliminate it. Leading expert, Dr. Valerie Young, author of The Secret Thoughts of Successful Women, has stated, “The only difference between people who feel like impostors and those who don’t is that the impostors’ thoughts stop them.” Here are some practical steps: 

• Acknowledge It & Call It Out

• When you hear that inner voice saying, "I’m not a real writer," or "I don’t deserve this," challenge it. Ask yourself: What evidence do I have that this is true? Spoiler: There isn’t any. Use the mirror to reflect what is real instead. Write an affirmation and say it out loud to yourself, then get back to your writing. Your work and readers are waiting.

• Reframe Your Thinking

• Pay attention to your inner dialogue. Instead of saying, "I just got lucky" try: "I worked hard, improved my craft, and took advantage of my opportunities." Whenever doubts and fears come up, remind yourself, "Every writer doubts themselves—this is normal, but it doesn’t define me."

• Keep a “Proof” Folder

• Create a digital or physical folder where you save:
  ✅ Positive feedback from editors, agents, or readers
  ✅ Good reviews or contest recognitions 
  ✅ Personal milestones—finishing a draft, hitting a word count goal, getting shortlisted
  On tough days, revisit these to remind yourself that your work has real value and made a positive impact.

• Stop the Comparison Game

• It’s easy to look at other writers and feel lost or behind, but their journey isn’t yours. Even bestselling authors struggle with Imposter Syndrome! Instead of comparing yourself to others, focus on your progress. The only person to compare yourself to is you. Also, cheer others on knowing they need your support as much as you need theirs.

• Write Through It

• Fear and self-doubt thrive in inaction. Keep writing, even if you don’t feel "good enough" that day. One of the best ways to grow as a writer is to write. The only way out is through.

• Share Your Struggles with Fellow Writers

• Imposter Syndrome relies on silence. Talking about it with other writers can be eye-opening—they probably feel the same way! Other authors will have tips as to how to beat this too, so reach out to your critique group or friends in the field to gather collective wisdom. 

• Celebrate Your Wins (Big & Small)

• Finished a chapter? Got positive feedback? Submitted to an agent? Celebrate it! Recognizing progress helps rewire your brain to see your success instead of dismissing it. If in doubt, go for a quick win: write a flash fiction piece, watch a video on the art and craft of writing, read one of your favorite authors. Your choices are endless.

• Accept That Doubt is Normal

• Even established authors battle Imposter Syndrome. The trick is to acknowledge the fear but not let it control you. You’re not an imposter—you’re just a writer pushing past your perceived limits.

Healthy Living Top Tip

Like most diseases, it’s a coordinated approach over time that promotes healing. While there are some actionable steps included in this article to help you diagnose and manage Imposter Syndrome, you may need to go deeper. Our top tip for this month is to be curious about what’s happening, especially if you are struggling, and to acknowledge that you are not alone. 

Don’t allow your internal worries to cross over into reality and kill your success. One thing that is unique to writers is we get to breathe life into “real” imposters (excuse the oxymoron), villains and victims, then wipe them out with the keyboard. Take advantage of this unique ability and feel emboldened to vanquish your internal imposter. Eradicate the disease at its source. Your story awaits.

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Authors: Mary Lynn Cloghesy & Jason Schembri. Mary Lynn is the founder of the Leadership Literary Lab (https://leadershipliterarylab.com), and Jason is a long-term weight loss specialist (https://jasonschembri.coach) Together, they host a luxury writing retreat in the Canadian Rockies. 

Between Pen and Paper: Flaneuring Through a Writer’s Mind – Maintaining Resolutions

By Andi Kopek

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Today, as we flaneur through a writer’s mind, we stumble into the dark corners of failed New

Year’s resolutions.

It’s February. Early February as I write these words, and mid-February or later as you read them. (This column, as part of Killer Nashville Magazine, will most likely reach you on Tuesday, February 18, 2025.) By now, the excitement of New Year's resolutions has faded, often replaced by the bitterness of broken promises. The January miracle didn’t happen. Gyms are half-empty again. I can already see buds forming on the tree branches, whispering, "Spring is coming."

Soon, it’ll be time for Spring Resolutions, so let’s talk about what actually makes a resolution successful—so that we might avoid Spring’s “inevitable” disappointment.

Writers & Resolutions: Why Do We Struggle?

Writers, of course, are no strangers to resolutions. Many of us eagerly declare our goals at the start of the year: "I will write more!" And yet, despite believing we were born to write, despite feeling it is our calling, our destiny, we fall into the same trap as everyone else—abandoning our resolution by February.

But what about our characters? Have you ever considered that they might also set New Year’s resolutions—maybe even without us realizing it?

Ask your serial killer protagonist about his resolution. Perhaps he wants to increase his yearly quota by 10%.

What about your vampire? Maybe she has vowed to feed only on eco-friendly, organic- conscious individuals with well-maintained work-life balance this year.

And your poltergeist ghost? Maybe it's decided to put some beat on an erratic flickering of lights and slamming cabinet doors and sync them perfectly with Bob Marley’s greatest hits.

Yes, indeed—most of us fail to achieve our New Year’s resolutions. And, probably, so do our characters.

Why Do Resolutions Fail?

First, based on the Behavior Change theory, our goals are not, most likely, SMART - Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-bound. What is important is that a successful New Year resolution needs to fulfill all of these criteria at once. In order to be in 9% of Americans who successfully keep their New Year’s resolution throughout the year, our set goal needs to meet ALL of these criteria. Not just one. Not just most. All. The resolution needs to be

Specific AND Measurable AND Achievable AND Relevant AND Time-bound. I would also add “I” to it for Individualized, making it a SMARTI goal. Only by meeting all these features simultaneously can we ensure our New Year’s resolution succeeds.

Writer’s SMARTI Goal

What that would mean for a writer? Here is an example. A typical writer’s resolution may look like this: “I want to write more this year.” This goal is vague, unmeasurable, and lacks structure. What does “more” even mean here: more than last year or more consistently? There’s no way to track progress, there is no deadline, and no plan to achieve it.

Let’s turn it into a SMARTI New Year’s resolution: "I will write 500 words every weekday for the next three months, using a writing tracker to measure progress, and completing a short story by April 31st.”

Why this is SMART?

✔ Specific – Instead of just "write more," it defines how much (500 words), how often (every weekday), and what kind (short story).

✔ Measurable – 500 words a day is a clear metric. A writing tracker will show progress.

✔ Achievable – 500 words a day is reasonable for most writers, unlike “write a novel in two weeks.”

✔ Relevant – This aligns with the writer’s goal of writing consistently and producing stories.

✔ Time-bound – The goal has a three-month deadline and an end product (short story by April 31st).

✔Individualized – this resolution will work for YOU but may not for someone else. So, YOU need to be sure that writing 500 words a day is achievable by YOU.

TIP - you need to be painfully honest with yourself, particularly regarding the achievable criteria. If you never had a week of writing every day 500 words it is unlikely you can keep it up for 12 weeks. Scale it down to a truly realistic number for YOU.

Our Characters’ SMARTI Goals

A serial killer poor New Year’s resolution: "I want to kill 10% more people this year.” Improved, SMARTI New Year’s resolution of a serial killer: "I will successfully eliminate 12 targets this year (one per month), focusing on high-profile yet low-risk victims. I will track progress through coded journal entries and refine my methods after each incident. By December 31st, I will have executed my most sophisticated kill yet, leaving behind no forensic evidence."

Breaking down the SMARTI Goal:

✔ Specific – Specifies how many (12), who (high-profile, low-risk), and how (refining methods).

✔ Measurable – One kill per month = clear, trackable progress.

✔ Achievable – A realistic pace for a professional in the industry (not over committing to an unmanageable spree).

✔ Relevant – Directly aligns with the killer’s long-term ambitions of perfecting their craft.

✔ Time-bound – Has a strict deadline (December 31st).

✔ Individualized – Tailored to the killer’s unique modus operandi.

Our vampire's resolution looks better: “to feed only on eco-friendly, organic-conscious folks with well-kept work-life balance this year” but still is not SMARTI. It’s vague: what even counts as "eco-friendly"? Are we talking vegan yoga instructors or just people who recycle? There is no measurement: How many organic-conscious victims per week?; no timeline, no tracking method, and no individualization.

Let’s turn it into a SMARTI goal: "I will exclusively feed on at least 3 ethically sourced, organic- conscious individuals per week, ensuring they meet my sustainability criteria (vegan diet only, who compost, and have a verified work-life balance). I will document it in my 'Vampire Ethical Consumption Ledger.' By the end of the year, I will reduce my carbon fang-print by 30%.” (A carbon fang-print: a measurement of vampire’s environmental impact based on their’s feeding habits and lifestyle choices).

Why this is a SMARTI goal:

✔ Specific – Defines who qualifies as a viable target and how often.

✔ Measurable – Blood consumption is tracked through the Vampire Ethical Consumption Ledger, and the carbon fang-print is quantifiable (30% reduction).

✔ Achievable – A realistic pace for a vampire looking to maintain both health and sustainability.

✔ Relevant – Aligns with the vampire’s dietary ethics and personal mission of sustainable feasting.

✔ Time-bound – weekly and yearly goals are set.

✔ Individualized – This is tailored to this vampire’s ethical lifestyle—other vampires might still prefer aristocratic blood or an all-you-can-tap buffet.

Is our poltergeist ghost’s New Year’s resolution “to put some beat on its chaotic activities, and flicker the lights or slam cabinet doors to Bob Marley’s tune” SMARTI?

Let’s check it out!

✔ Specific – No! “Put some beat to Bob Marley’s tune” is quite vague.

✔ Measurable – Nope! How can we determine that all of the flickering and slamming is actually in tune?

✔ Achievable – Probably! “Putting some beat” sounds rather simple to do.

✔ Relevant – Yes! It aligns with the poltergeist’s core purpose of supernatural disturbance.

✔ Time-bound – Not really! There’s no deadline for when this musical haunting should be mastered.

✔ Individualized – Yes! This is not a generic haunting strategy—it’s personalized to the ghost’s artistic ambitions and musical taste.

Let’s revise it to make it 100% SMARTI resolution:

"By June 30th, I will master flickering lights and slamming cabinet doors in perfect rhythm to ‘Three Little Birds’ beats and progressing to fully blown ‘No Woman, No Cry’ performed on all kitchen cabinetry doors and under cabinet lights. I will document my progress by scaring at least three paranormal investigators who will confirm the haunting's musical accuracy on their social media."

✔ Now it has a deadline (June 30th)

✔ Song choices are clear (starting point, progression plan)

✔ It’s measurable (ghost hunters’ reaction = proof of success)

✔ Structured approach (from basic beats to full reggae ghost orchestra)

Final Thought

If you're scared to commit to a New Year’s resolution, seek refuge in etymology. Resolution comes from the Latin root "resolutio", meaning "loosening, untying, or breaking down into simpler parts."

So, just loosen up a bit in 2025—starting now.

I know, that’s not a SMARTI goal.

But it is a FUN goal.

(And FUN is not an acronym. Just pure joy).

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Andi Kopek is a multidisciplinary artist based in Nashville, TN. With a background in medicine, molecular neuroscience, and behavioral change, he has recently devoted himself entirely to the creative arts. His debut poetry collection, Shmehara, has garnered accolades in both literary and independent film circles for its innovative storytelling.

When you’re in Nashville, you can join Andi at his monthly poetry workshop, participate in the Libri Prohibiti book club (both held monthly at the Spine bookstore, Smyrna, TN), or catch one of his live performances. When not engaging with the community, he's hard at work on his next creative project or preparing for his upcoming art-focused podcast, The Samovar(t) Lounge: Steeping Conversations with Creative Minds, where in a relaxed space, invited artists share tea and the never-told intricacies of their creative journeys.

FB: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100093119557533

IG: https://www.instagram.com/andi.kopek/

X: https://twitter.com/andikopekart

TT:   www.tiktok.com/@andi.kopek

Using a 500-Word Diet to Complete Your First Draft

By Terri Bowen

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There are a lot of fun aspects to being a writer: creating imaginary worlds, bringing fascinating characters to life, feeling like a rockstar when someone says they dig your work, and conducting weird research that would look downright creepy under normal circumstances, to name a few. On the other end of that are the not-so-fun parts: writer’s block, wrestling with self-doubt, carving out time to write, or discovering a major plot hole halfway through. Still, if you’re anything like me, you’ve been daydreaming about seeing your book in print since you were a kid. With the gusto of a caffeinated jackrabbit, you decide it’s time to crank out that first novel. You’ve done all the meticulous outlining of a plotter, complete with storyboards and music playlists. Or maybe you’re a rebel, a pantser, prepared to fly by the seat of your, well, pants, occasionally utilizing barely legible notes scribbled on grocery receipts. Either way, you’re ready to dive in. Splash!

Things go along swimmingly at first. Then one day, your regular job gets a little too hectic, leaving you too tired to write. The next day, you have too many errands to run, leaving you with no time to crank out a few pages. Another day, you’ve managed to catch the latest bug circulating in your house, and you can barely breathe through one nostril, let alone work on your book. And so on. Suddenly, two weeks have gone by, and your characters are left feeling abandoned while you berate your lack of discipline and time management. When you finally pick back up where you left off, your momentum is gone, and everything you write sounds more mind numbing than tax return instructions. Then you end up marinating in a vat of imposter syndrome while glumly scrolling through social media to watch the latest viral cat videos.

Sound familiar? If so, you’re probably beyond frustrated and wondering how to get back on track. (And if not, then carry on, you shining star!) I’ve had a lot of writing ups and downs in my day, and the biggest reason for the latter is this: life happens. As Scottish poet Robert Burns once said, “The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” And since I can function—more or less—without writing, my goal of authoring a book amidst the chaos ends up at the bottom of my to-do list. It starts to feel like a distant, arduous task at best, and a frivolous, ridiculous pipedream at worst. 

As I pondered this predicament a few months ago, I wondered, what if I treat writing as a necessity, as something I require in my life to be the best, most authentic version of me? What realistic, sustainable steps could I take to make that a reality? Would a drastic change in my perspective set things back in motion and keep them there? Bearing in mind my desire to finish my first draft by December 31st, I did the math to see how much I need to write daily to achieve that goal. This led to the creation of the 500-Word Diet. Allow me to explain.

As I recently wrote in an Instagram post, I’m now treating my writing journey like a health regimen. For me, 500 literary calories a day will keep me on a solid path to a finished draft by year’s end. It has become a reasonable daily word count that feels manageable and satisfactory. Instead of adhering to a specific amount of time, I’ve found that I can crank out 500 words even on my busiest, most exhausting days. It frequently ends up being more than that, but even when it’s the minimum, I feel good about my progress.

Like any dietary wellness plan worth its salt, there needs to be some flexibility, cheat days included. If I know I have a day coming up when it will be nearly impossible to accomplish my minimum daily word count, I make a point to cover it in the days beforehand. If I truly need a break, I take one knowing that I need to double my word count the next day. So far, the most I’ve accumulated is 1500 words due to missing two days. In those scenarios, I reminded myself how discouraged and depleted I would feel if I let it snowball any further. To keep myself happy and mentally nourished, I fed my brain—er, worked on my book—and caught back up. And if I’m feeling stuck, I throw in a placeholder note and push forward like I’m plowing my way through a plate of kale. I might not enjoy that particular “meal,” but I know it’s good for me, and I’m not sabotaging my regimen. Put in the work, get it down, and edit later. 

I’m happy to say that this approach has truly changed things for me, not just in terms of productivity, but also my mindset. Each word-count milestone I meet gives me a boost of confidence. I’m doing what I’ve always dreamed of, and it feels pretty good. 

I should also acknowledge that writing a first draft in bite-size pieces isn't particularly new or revolutionary. However, adjusting your perspective and categorizing your writing project as a need—especially if you have a full-time day job, are a parent, or have regular obligations that take up large portions of your schedule—gives you permission to make writing a priority, instead of something to be continuously shuffled until it gets lost in a creative black hole. We have all heard the importance of self-care, and how it enables us to be our best selves, and it's important to remember that dreams and goals are part of that self-care.

Now go tackle that first draft with the attention it deserves—even if it's 500 words at a time.

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Terri Bowen is a writer in Cincinnati, Ohio. She has authored countless poems, short stories, essays, press releases, human interest & financial articles, personal blogs, and screenplays and has nearly completed the first draft of her first novel, a suspense thriller. She is chronicling her writing journey on Instagram (@terribowenauthor).

The Art of Writing Fast (Part I)

By Chrissy Hicks

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The idea of writing FAST excites me, because it’s something I always wanted to do but believed there was some code I needed to crack before I could achieve results. I’m here to tell you that’s not true. There’s no code, no secret, no one-size-fits-all formula. Nope. And you get all the details here, in my new mini-series, for free.

Introduction

Writing fast isn’t for everyone, and it’s not always feasible. Note: I didn’t say it was impossible, nor am I saying some people can or can’t. What I am saying is not everyone will enjoy this method, and even for those who do, it may not work 100% of the time.

I think anyone can complete a novel, and I believe anyone can complete a novel fast, if they set their mind to it. NaNoWriMo is a fantastic challenge to start with, if you’ve never tried. And if you enjoy writing and haven’t heard of National Novel Writing Month, then I have to ask, where have you been?? Just kidding. The challenge involves writing 50,000 words in one month (particularly November, but you can pick any month to challenge yourself). The idea is to get words on paper, stop procrastinating, and finish the dang book.

Keep in mind: this does NOT mean you’ll have a polished, publication-ready manuscript by the end of your speedy writing adventures. But what you will have, is something to work with. As Jodi Picoult once said, “You can’t edit a blank page.” 

Let’s dive in, shall we?

In this first article, I’ll go over what fast writing is and why to write fast

Next, I’ll tackle how to do so, as well as when and where you might do so. Later, we’ll explore the editing process and why you should approach this at a slower pace to accomplish your best work. 

What is Fast Writing?

Simply put: it’s writing fast. Getting words on paper without too much thinking or hesitation. Again, NaNoWriMo is a great example because it encourages just that: writing a book of 50,000 words in 30 days, which equates to 1,667 words per day, or approximately 7 typed pages. 

When you focus on speeding through the completion of a first draft (or draft zero, as I prefer to call my initial rough drafts), there’s no time to overthink or second-guess. You are forced to put your inner critic aside (or locked in a cage in a land far far away) so you can focus on simply getting the story out as quickly as possible.

Why Write Fast?

There are several benefits. Here’s 5 reasons WHY:

1. High-volume productivity

Let’s say you write adult fiction novels, and the average word count for these is about 80,000 (still unsure? Click HERE for a free, fun quiz on Reedsy to get a fair estimate). Now imagine, you dedicated time and energy to blasting through the first draft at a rate of 1,667 words per day (we’ll use NaNoWriMo rules for the sake of example). That would land you a completed first draft in 48 days, approximately a month and a half! Then there’s the editing, of course. Let’s factor in 2-3 months of applying the same amount of time you did writing to fine-tuning your draft. From start to your finishing touches, the whole process will take about 4-5 months. Now, you need a break from that book. So, you send it off to beta readers, editors, and friends with an eye for grammatical errors. And while they’re all reviewing and prepping your feedback, you’re already working on your next book! See the pattern? 

This kind of rhythm won’t work for everyone. But if you plan to write prolifically, this isn’t a bad formula for knocking out at least 2 books a year. 

2. Keep the Creative Juices flowing

If you prefer to take a break from an initial rough draft before editing (as I do), then you could knock out two books sequentially, and return to the first book to edit. Once editing is done, you’ll have had a sufficient break from the second book and can return to edit that one. This way you maintain a writing habit, keep the momentum going, and still give your rough drafts a “rest” period before returning to them. That or, perhaps you could turn to another creative endeavor (painting, music, ice sculpturing…take your pick!*).

*Pun absolutely intended. 

3. Practice makes better

I’ve often heard people say, “practice makes perfect.” But we’re not aiming for perfect—that’s an impossible task. We’re aiming to be better each day. How do you get better at writing? By writing! Like with anything else, we can study and read about craft all day but if we don’t actually put pen to paper (or fingers to the keyboard), how else are we going to teach our brains to push past writer’s block? The more often you write, the closer you’ll get to your writer’s voice. The more often you write, and edit, and implement feedback, the more often you’ll understand the mistakes you’re making and not make them in the first place. This in turn, means churning out better and better first drafts. Tada! 

4.  Overcome fear of the blank page

Have you ever had this big idea for a novel, then sat down to start and stared at the blank page, wondering…where do I start? Am I even the right person to write this thing? When you fast write, you don’t give yourself the opportunity to doubt your writing ability. You just do it. Think: Nike

5. Write it fast, write it bad

Okay, I don’t really mean that. Not everything you write in a first draft is going to be bad. But a lot of it will be. There will be all sorts of room for tweaking and deleting and adding. Characters who probably didn’t need to be there, “Sally” that became “Sandy” halfway through the manuscript and you didn’t even notice, flat dialogue, lackluster scenery, flowery descriptions that have nothing to do with anything… you catch my drift. My point is simply this: give yourself permission to write it however it comes out, as bad as it might possibly present itself. Because anything is fixable, but you can’t fix something that is nothing.

Okay… do I have you convinced? You might think, this is nuts. Or I have no time. Or where did I leave the remote? Or, perhaps, you’re chomping at the bit, ready to knock out that first draft, indexes poised at the F and J keys on your QWERTY keyboard. If so, stay tuned for my five ways on HOW to do that in Part II.

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Chrissy’s work has appeared in three consecutive issues of Bridgewater State University’s “Embracing Writing” book for first-year freshmen. Her writing portfolio also includes publications in The Broadkill Review, SUSIE Mag, The Storyteller, and informative pieces for a local online newspaper. One of her unpublished novels, Foul Play, was a Suspense Finalist for the 2022 Claymore Award, and an excerpt from her unpublished novel Overshadow won Top Three Finalist of the 2024 Thomas Mabry Creative Writing Award. Though her background is in counseling, having earned a master’s degree in this field, when it comes to the art of writing, she’s an autodidact. She studies books she loves and enjoys completing various creative writing classes online, and attending writer’s conferences whenever she can; Killer Nashville is one of her favorites. Additionally, she’s volunteered since 2023 as a general editor for the Killer Nashville Magazine. She resides in Tennessee with her family, their talkative Husky, and a frenetic cat. You can find her online here: https://chrissyhicks.wordpress.com/ where she occasionally blogs about the writing life and reviews craft books.

Staying Motivated in a Writing Career

By Dale T. Phillips

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“People of mediocre ability sometimes achieve outstanding success because they don’t know when to quit. Most people succeed because they are determined to. Persevere and get it done.”

—George Allen

Staying Motivated

Think of it this way: Failure is a single event, while success is a process.

You should realize (if you hadn’t before) that the road to success is a long, constant journey, not a short sprint to a nearby finish line. Many writers quit before achieving success, including some who were close and would have made it with just a bit more effort. You never know how close you are, where the tipping point will be. In the past couple of years, two of my favorite writers suddenly broke into top-level, best-seller, well-deserved, breakout success after many years of toiling in the trenches. It seemed to happen overnight, and yet they’d been working diligently for years to make it happen and had a number of excellent books out.

Why are you writing? To make money, win awards, get famous? Those are external goals, out of your control. What you can control is your production, your author brand, and how hard you’re willing to work. If you’re not having fun, and it’s taking a toll on your life, it may not be the thing you think you wanted. But if you have that need to write, to get your stories out to the world, you’ll keep going. 

How does one persist when success seems unobtainable? One book I highly recommend is Motivate Your Writing!: Using Motivational Psychology to Energize Your Writing Life, by Stephen Kelner. He’s also married to a writer, so he knows his stuff. 

Before my first novel was published, I was chomping at the bit to get it out. Publication seemed just out of reach for several years, and I had to prod myself to keep going. One Christmas I printed out the book draft, put the pages in a binder, wrapped it, and gave it to myself as a Christmas gift. Though my family thought it strange, it was terrific motivation and gave me a boost to continue thinking about the day when I would hold a real print copy of my first novel. That day came, and many more of amazing success. One Christmas, I had three unfinished novels, another I wanted to write, and hadn’t published enough work in too long a while. So, I printed title covers, attached them to other books, wrapped them, and gave them to myself as more gifts, as a promise and a commitment that I’d get to work and finish and publish them. 

I’m motivated by the stories of amazing writers (and other artists, musicians, entertainers, and creative people) of talent who had a much tougher time of it, who struggled to get published and make a living in years past. Now we can get published whenever we want, but the hard part is getting sold and read. Inspirational quotes and success stories help keep me going. I look outside writing, to success and motivation gurus, to see if I can use techniques for success from other walks of life. By keeping a positive attitude, you can push through the dark days. The habit of success keeps you on track when you encounter setbacks. Do not allow events to stop you. Learn the power of the word NO when asked for things that will suck up your time if they prevent you from finishing projects. 

Chart Your Success

Because our minds gloss over the day-to-day, the usual and familiar, it’s quite useful to keep a writing log for recording what steps you take and see how much you do over time. Writing a book may seem like it goes on forever, so keep logs of what you do, to keep on track and motivated. 

This can be as simple as making a time and word count entry in a notebook, or in a spreadsheet or document on a computer. You want to build momentum, so that a string of days of writing encourages you to do more. Each day that you’ve put new words down is a success! It’s great to look at the accumulated results after a few months of work, and it truly feels like accomplishment. 

You should also keep track of other parts of writing activities and successes. Publications, new editions, acceptances, good reviews, big sales, milestones reached, all that and more come together into a success chart. Record what advances you’ve made, and they will mount up into a tidal wave. You want to look back and see that you’ve made progress. Little steps in the right direction for big results.

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Dale T. Phillips has published novels, story collections, non-fiction, and over 80 short stories. Stephen King was Dale's college writing teacher, and since then, Dale has found time to appear on stage, television, radio, in an independent feature film, and compete on Jeopardy (losing in a spectacular fashion). He's a member of the Mystery Writers of America and the Sisters in Crime. He's traveled to all 50 states, Mexico, Canada, and through Europe.

www.daletphillips.com

Show Don’t Tell

By James Glass

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What Does “Show, Don’t Tell” Mean?

Good writing tends to draw an image in the reader’s mind instead of just telling the reader what to think or believe.

Here’s a sentence that tells:

Mr. Jeffries was a fat, ungrateful old man.

That gets the information across, but it’s boring. Most writers who tell tend to lose, rather than gain readers.  

Here’s a way to create an image of Mr. Jeffries in the reader’s mind:

Mr. Jeffries heaved himself out of the chair. As his feet spread under his apple-like frame, his arthritic knees popped and cracked in objection. Jeffries pounded the floor with his cane while cursing that dreadful girl who was late again with his coffee.

In the second example, I didn’t tell you Mr. Jeffries is fat. I showed you. I also didn’t tell you he was old, but showed you by mentioning his arthritic knees, his cane, and that he has a girl who tends to him. You probably guessed by now that he’s not a nice man. 

One of the most hideous examples of telling rather than showing is the “As you know, Mr. Jeffries,” dialog. This is when one character tells another something they both know. It’s almost as hideous when an author painstakingly uses dialog and action to convey something the characters all know.

However, like most rules of thumb, “Show don’t tell” is excellent advice most of the time, but writers can apply it too broadly, or in situations where it hurts more than it helps. You must be aware of the spirit, as well as the letter, of this particular law. New writers tend to lecture their readers. It’s never a good idea to bludgeon your readers with information. Or they may try to explain through dialogue. The key is to find the right mix between showing and telling. You don’t want to bore your reader. Pick up one of your favorite authors’ books and see how they capture your attention in the pages. Reading is one of the most effective leaning tools for a writer.  

If you find your writing feeling flat, take a step back and imagine the scene yourself. What sounds do you hear? What smells are in the air? What expression does your character have on his face? What are his motivations? Once you dig deeper into your own imagination, see if you can make your writing better by adding a few specifics. This will transport the readers to the scene you have in your mind.

So, let’s make today a good writing day. Whether one sentence, one paragraph or one chapter. It’s all progress. Make today a good writing day. 

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James Glass achieved the rank of Command Master Chief before retiring after 22 years in the United States Navy. After retiring from the Navy, he exchanged his rifle for a pen. He and his family moved back to Florida. James is also the president of the Panhandle Writers Group. He’s published five novels, one novella, and two (you solve the crime) chapter books.

Punctuation Is Power - Part 4: Finding your style: Free your mind and readers will follow

By Angela K. Durden

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Ernest Hemingway wrote a novel you may have heard of called The Old Man and the Sea. It is described as a brilliant short novel, but before editors got hold of it, it was neither brilliant nor short. In fact, it meandered here and there. What a mess. It took an editor to find the story and chop out the crap, after which Ernest could finish it to become the brilliant, short novel we all know and love. 

Part 3 of my series ended with the recommendation of getting an editor who was not in love with a particular style manual and forcing your story into a predetermined mold that may not fit. Hemingway was well served by just such editors. This column is about finding a style and training readers to it.

Many new writers, not having a technique or approach of their own, attempt to copy the writing style of an author they love. For writers endeavoring to learn the foundational elements of storytelling, pacing, power, scene setting, and so forth, there is nothing wrong with that. Like a musician practicing scales of chords and note patterns of famous works and then learning to vary those themes with his own flavor, a writer must can emulate the masters until that deeper understanding of interplay comes.  

Delve into your heart of hearts and answer this question: Why do you write?

For myself, that answer is: Because I can’t not. Words are my thing and have been since I began learning to talk. Semper fidelis—always in the service of words.

Still, the question can lead to a huge list of follow-ups we don’t have time to cover here. King Solomon said in Ecclesiastes 12:12: “To the making of many books there is no end, and much devotion to them is wearisome to the flesh.” And this is a business that demands attention and can weary a soul.

That being said, it is important to know your own reason. There are no right or wrong answers to the question. But if you find you are wanting to write in order to sell your work for a large, anonymous crowd of readers—that is, you want to sell it in the retail marketplace and be in the business of book sales you will want to bring the best version of your work to that arena and make it stand out from other books also vying for readers’ attentions. 

A book may feel like a baby, but it is a product. So, how can you find your own voice and train a reader to like it, understand it, want more of it?

Finding your own voice is a mysterious process. It cannot be taught, but it can happen. Training a reader is easy. Once you’ve found your voice, now you refine it on the page. Once you’ve got the story pretty close to finished, the hard work of checking the flow begins. 

Then and only then you will question the use of every punctuation mark you’ve put in. You may find a long, run-on sentence that is convoluted and meanders down paths no one can find, yet each part seems important. You must now decide if it needs to be broken up into fragments and whole sentences of varying lengths, or something else entirely. 

What I like to do is copy that one sentence (or graph) and paste it twice into a blank document. The first I will leave as my reference to the original. The second I then play with. Break here, here, and here? Comma there? Colon or semicolon? Then I paste the original sentence in for a third time and play again using both the original and the new edits as reference. Comparing how the meaning and pacing has changed, I change the order of the words, use a thesaurus, maybe work in some alliteration, and look for clichés and repetitions.

After about the third time of doing this, an Aha! moment may arise and you’ll see that maybe the original was perfectly fine, but that the problem was the graphs leading up to it. You rework those portions and bingo, bango, bungo, you got some words worth keeping. 

That’s just one method. However, at this time something seemingly magical will happen. You will begin to find your voice. Like the musician practicing his scales, chord progressions, and inversions, and thus seeing all the variety he can produce, you won’t be afraid of words any longer because the words will know you are treating them as equals and respecting the power they bring to your tale by punctuating with powerful effect and affect. 

Now, once you start punctuating to tell you story your way, make sure you follow that same style throughout the book, and guess what? By about the end of the second chapter, the reader will learn to follow along, simply and naturally enjoying the story.

Punctuation should never get in the way of a tale. Those marks are the workhorses that make the story look good, but they never take center stage away from the star, your story.

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Author, editor, publisher, and more: learn about Angela K. Durden here and here and here.

Getting out of a Writer’s Slump

By Leslie Conner

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All writers have found themselves in the not-so-ideal situation—feeling like they’ve fallen into an abysmal ditch or they’re at a standstill at the foot of an insurmountable mountain. This sensation is most affectionately called “Writer’s Block.” But I prefer not to use that term because it sounds too formidable, like the perfect antagonist. 

I choose to use “Writer’s Slump” because it more accurately portrays the predicament (and my horrendous posture at the keyboard). Writer’s Slump is the inevitable condition visited upon anyone who takes on the task of writing anything, whether you are schlepping away at a short story, a mystery novel, or a memoir. You’re gonna run smack dab into that wall and a groan of recognition will escape your lips. 

You’ve seen this wall before. We all have. 

And there is nothing more defeating than staring at that wall with nothing to say to it but a string of obscenities. It can be frustrating, but it doesn’t have to be immobilizing. I’m here to share a few tips that I use when the creative train in my brain derails somewhere in Albuquerque. 

1. Skip Ahead. If you are writing a scene of two characters in a diner and you’ve spent more than two paragraphs describing how the characters are holding their cups of coffee, just stop. You’ve hit the wall, and you’re trying to drive through it by boring everyone to death. There are times when I know that I need a scene with two characters having a conversation in a diner, but I’m not quite sure how it’s going to play out. In other words, I haven’t figured out the purpose. So, I meander around describing everything just to keep writing, but I end up with miles of nothing. That’s when I know I need to skip ahead to a later scene. Getting the characters into the next predicament can (a lot of times) help me to figure out what should happen before it. Writing what you do know will help you to fill in the blanks of what you don’t know yet. 

2. Work on Something Else. If there is no skipping ahead on this story, you might consider pulling out an abandoned short story or rough draft of another novel. I do this all the time. If you drag your brain through something you haven’t read in a while, it’s like rewiring the synapses. Getting yourself in a completely different world with completely different characters makes you focus on anything other than what you were struggling with in the first story. And then when you come back to that story later, you’ll see what you need to do, clear as day. Almost like it was right there in front of your face taunting you like Road Runner does to Wile E. Coyote. 

3. Go to another creative thing. Writers are creative people, and their creativity is not limited to just writing. Most authors I know enjoy many other creative hobbies. So, when you are stuck in the mire with your story, pick up the guitar or sit at the piano, get the canvas out, or take some artsy black and white photos of your cat (even if he doesn’t want you to—and he, most likely, doesn’t). I can hear you saying now, “but writing is my jam. I’m not good at anything else.” Well, that’s just not true. Everyone has talents that they don’t consider talents. You could bake the most incredible red velvet cake or whip up a mean spinach artichoke dip. Maybe you’re great at knitting socks for dogs or growing tulips. Whatever it is that you love to do—that you lose yourself in—go do that until the writing muse makes her grand entrance again. 

4. Go to the woods. If steps one through three don’t help, the most reliable way to break through a slump is to go outside. Nothing clears out the gray matter clutter better than some fresh air. Go to the nearest park and take a hike. Get lost in the trees, sit and ponder the reflections on the lake—wherever you can go that removes the sounds of civilization from your consciousness (you know those pesky things like cars, phones, televisions, and people). There is nothing better to restore your sense of calm and creativity than communing with the birds. They always have a story to tell, and if you’re lucky, you can hear it. 

A Writer’s Slump is just a dip in the road. You aren’t a bad writer or a failed creative person if you find yourself sitting in the mud puddle every once in a while. But if you are diligent about inviting your creative muse to come back to you, she will. And it probably wouldn’t hurt to have some donuts there for her, too.