Creativity

Distinguishing the Subgenres of General Fiction

KWhipkey 2 Comments

I know I promised you the subgenres of Science Fiction this week, but unforeseen schedule constraints meant that I had to postpone it. Again. But don’t worry, that behemoth of a post will surface before this series is done. I promise. Today, though, we’re going to tackle what’s known as “uncategorized fiction” or “General Fiction.” (“Categorized Fiction” is used to describe genre fiction like Fantasy, Sci-fi, Romance, etc.)

General Fiction is that strange catch-all genre where titles no one really knows how to classify find themselves, and it typically takes up about half a bookstore’s inventory. But even though it’s kind of a vague term, there’s nothing general about it. In fact, my research has shown that there are actually 12 categories you’ll be guaranteed to find in this section. Notice I called them categories, not subgenres. General Fiction doesn’t really have subgenres. Each of these is considered its own thing and are umbrella-ed beneath the header of General Fiction solely so they can be shelved together in a bookstore. Curious what they are? Let’s have a look.
 

Literary Fiction

 
Ah, the most pretentious category of fiction. Admit it, a lot of you instantly pictured snooty English Majors in tweed jackets declaring themselves too good to write something as trashy as “commercial” genre fiction and actually, you know, make money. Don’t lie, now. I know I’m not the only one to harbor that opinion. 😉

But despite it’s bad rap, Literary Fiction does stand above other genres in terms of technical quality, garnering critical acclaim for its “serious” approach to literature. In fact, to even be considered part of this genre, a work has to meet a strict criteria of traits, including:

  • Interesting, complicated characters who are often introverted and introspective.
  • A Plot that focuses more on the inner-story of the character than external action, creating a complex and multi-layered emotional involvement between the reader and characters.
  • Prose that is elegant, lyrical and layered. (It’s this emphasis on style that earns the genre its pretentious label.)
  • A dark and serious tone that wrestles with universal themes and dilemmas.
  • Slower pacing than more mainstream, commercial works.

A lot of those elements can and are included in other genres as well, (my own WIP is bordering dangerously close to qualifying), so there’s one other crucial piece that distinguishes a work as Literary Fiction — the audience. Unlike the other, “commercial” genres, who survive solely on the whims of fans, Literary Fiction targets critics. Its main reason for existing is to gain critical acclaim from other literary authors and reviewers, catapulting the author to stardom not by the number of books sold, but by how highly praised their work is. Which, I dare say, is even harder than finding success through book sales.
 

Drama

 
This category is more about tone than anything else. Like Literary Fiction, Drama is serious, but without the added emphasis on style.  Technically, Drama is a term thrown around more in film and theater, but it exists in literature too. There’s only one requirement to be considered a Drama — it must be a story centered around the conflict or contrast of characters. Which, let’s face it, is 99% of what makes up most stories. That’s why the 5 Act Dramatic Structure originally created for plays — exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, denouement — became the basis of literature as well.  Drama is a fundamental storytelling technique and it’s found in every genre, subgenre, or category.

So what makes a stand-alone Drama? I would say when the dramatic elements of the story overshadow those of another genre, it could be considered a Drama. For example, you’ve heard the term Crime Drama, I’m sure. In these (usually televised) stories, the drama surrounding the crime overshadows any other plotline, including character development. Family Drama, where the entire story centers on the conflict between the generations of characters, is another example. There are obviously shades of other genres in both of these, making pure Drama a rare creature. Therefore, it’s my opinion that while Drama is considered a category, it’s really a hybrid, combining its core principles with something else 9 times out of 10.
 

Humor

 
Humor is similar to Drama in that it is most often found as a hybrid, crossing-breeding with other genres in a symbiotic masterpiece. Unlike Drama, it’s much easier to identify. A humorous work has one goal — to provide amusement and make the reader laugh.  That’s it. Really. If your main mission as a writer is to make people laugh, then regardless of whichever other genre you choose to add in, your book is considered part of the Humor category.
 

Realistic Fiction

 
I would hazard that the majority of books categorized by bookstores as General Fiction actually fall into this.  Similar to Literary Fiction, Realistic Fiction has a set of guidelines for its identification, namely:

  • A conflict or problem that could actually happen in the real world.
  • A setting that actually exists or could actually exist.
  • Characters that are fully realized, complicated individuals.
  • A plot that centers on everyday problems and personal relationships readers could easily relate to their own lives.

This category is one of the few that transcends audience as well, crossing into all ages and backgrounds. The recent success of The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky being a prime example.
 

Satire

 
Satire is a cousin of Humor. In fact, it’s technically considered a type of humor, encompassing things like irony, sarcasm, and parody. But unlike Humor, whose goal is simply to entertain, Satire has more of a malicious edge. Its intent is to act as a social critic, drawing attention to problems and societal issues through wit. It always contains some kind of message, and because of its often sharply-edged delivery, is not everyone’s cup of tea. I wrote a post about that very thing a while back — Sarcasm; It’s Not for Everyone. Satire is no different.
 

Tragedy

 
Tragedy. One of the longest-standing storytelling devices. And why not? Sorrow is one of the most powerful emotions we can feel. And clearly, it sells. I’m pretty sure Nicholas Sparks figured out ages ago that his blending of Romance w/ Tragedy led to his legions of Kleenex-armed, female fans and his insanely prolific career. Hence the plethora of titles he’s released under that formula.

Similar to Drama, Tragedy is usually found as a hybrid with something else. Its most simple definition is that it describes the horrible events derived from the actions of the hero/heroine, whether that be self-destruction or calamity for those around them. A happy ending isn’t required in any category except Romance, but it’s definitely not going to appear here. If you pick up a tragedy, expect to bawl your eyes out and walk away feeling burdened. That emotional impact is what makes Tragedies some of the most remembered and powerful stories out there.
 

Tragicomedy

 
All subgenres can be combined to create a new one, but few deserve their own designation as stand-alone category, making Tragicomedy even stranger than its name implies. Clearly, it’s a combination of Tragedy and Humor, but oddly, there is no formal definition for it. The closest I found was that it’s a tragedy containing enough comedic elements to lighten the mood, or a serious story with a happy ending. If I understand it correctly, it’s meant to be a lighter form of tragedy, so rather than a reader walking away feeling depressed, they end feeling slightly uplifted in the way Lifetime movies are uplifting — feel-good endings with a heavy undertone. By that definition, I suppose books like Kate Jacobs’s The Friday Night Knitting Club & Comfort Food, as well as everything by Mr. Sparks could almost fall into this category?

I’m not at all familiar with this category, though, so if I got it wrong, someone please feel free to correct me. 🙂
 

Chick Lit (Women’s Fiction)

 
Speaking of Lifetime, this is the literary equivalent. A newer category that saw its popularity skyrocket in the late 1990’s, Chick Lit is aimed at the modern woman, addressing everything from career, to relationships (including family and friends), to shopping and red-soled, uber-expensive high heels.  Though it usually contains elements of romance, it’s not actually considered part of the Romance genre. It’s light-hearted and fun; the literary equivalent to a Rom-Com with your girlfriends. And thanks to books like Candace Bushnell’s Sex and the City, Chick Lit has become a staple in the publishing industry, spawning dedicated imprints like Harlequin’s Red Dress Ink and flooding the market with sassy, confident heroines in expensive shoes.
 

Inspirational Fiction

 
This category actually earns its own shelf in some bookstores, but since its formal definition is vague at best, I’m lumping it in with General Fiction.

Inspirational Fiction has one goal — to inspire. It features characters overcoming adversity in inspiring and uplifting ways. It often draws heavily on religious belief systems and for many, has become synonymous with Christian Literature. But that’s not completely accurate. Yes, the majority of this category does pull from the ideals of Christianity, but that isn’t actually a requirement. All that’s required is that a work of Inspirational Fiction somehow address the idea of faith and impart a positive message that inspires.
 

Historical Fiction

 
Historical Fiction is easy to spot when you’re browsing the General Fiction aisles. These are books set in the past, featuring realistic, historical settings and maybe even figures from actual history. The main characters, however, are always fictitious.  There are three requirements of Historical Fiction:

  • The events need to be believable enough that they could have happened.
  • It has to have authentic settings and characters, including behavior appropriate to the time period.
  • It has to have an accurate timeline for events that matches the reality of the time period being portrayed.

The point here is to showcase the past in an enlightening way, helping readers understand customs and cultures that have vanished or painting significant historical events through different POV’s. When you start deviating from the path history took, you’re wandering into the realm of Historical Fantasy, a different creature altogether.
 

Classic Literature

 
I’ve always thought that books falling in this category deserved their own shelf, but for whatever reason, they’re usually just lumped into General Fiction. Possibly because the term “classic” is somewhat arbitrary.  We’re all familiar with titles in this grouping, having been force-fed them throughout school. But how do we actually define what makes something classic? By looking for these markers:

  • A Classic usually comes out of Literary Fiction, sporting some kind of stylistic achievement that’s earned renown for decades.
  • It should be representative of the time period it was written in, but transcends time, becoming as relevant to current generations as those it was written for.
  • It must contain some kind of universal appeal, touching on themes that resonate sometimes hundreds of years later.

The exact list of Classic Literature changes depending on who you talk to, but it’s pretty safe to assume that if you’ve heard of it and it isn’t popular in the grocery store checkout, it’s probably a classic.
 

Western Fiction

 
This is another category that usually has its own aisle.  But I’m including it here because it doesn’t appear to have any subgenres. A Western is a Western is a Western, if you get my drift. I’m sure the plots have varying nuances, but the overarching style never does. A Western is a book set in the Wild West of usually America between the late 18th century and the late 19th. And yes, it features exactly what you’d expect — cowboys, Native Americans, covered wagons, and women in aprons with shotguns.

So there you have it — 12 categories of literature you’re probably going to find in the General Fiction section. Thank God for alphabetization, eh? Otherwise we’d never be able to find anything in this genre! Wandering the aisles of General Fiction is definitely a daunting task, but it’s also one of the most interesting because you never know exactly what you’ll find. It’s kind of like flipping through the channels of a TV, there are as many variations as there are titles, and occasionally, you may even come across one of those amazingly brilliant, strange gems that defies all classification. And that is exactly what General Fiction is all about.

As with my previous posts, if you feel I’ve miscategorized or misrepresented any of these subgenres, feel free to speak up! 😉

How to Write Martial Arts Fight Scenes

KWhipkey 6 Comments

Fight scenes. Whether live action or written, they can be such a pain to pull off, falling all too easily into the realm of cheesy. You know the ones I mean; we’ve all seen and read them– fight scenes where the creator was more focused on what looks cool and/or badass, and less so on believability.

Recently, I sent a frustrated plea to the Twitterverse, begging authors to do their research before including the martial arts in their fights. Believe it or not, it wasn’t until after I sent that plea that the light bulb appeared and I realized I’m in a unique position to help my fellow authors. As both a martial artist and a writer, I have insight that could help authors overcome the hurdle of fight scenes. So today, I’m going to use that background to dissect a written fight scene and hopefully illustrate how to effectively incorporate martial arts techniques. About time, right?

First, let’s take a look at what you don’t want to do.

_________

Charlie grunted as his back slammed into the wall, his opponent’s hands wrapped thoroughly around his throat. He struggled, trying to kick his opponent in the groin but only managing to connect with the man’s shin. The attacker snarled, loosening his hold on Charlie’s neck. Without pausing, Charlie threw his left arm between them, turning to the side and trapping the attacker’s arm against his own chest before elbowing the man in the face.

The attacker stumbled backwards, grasping at his bleeding nose. Charlie didn’t wait. He had the upper-hand. He advanced toward his opponent, his hands raised to guard his face, his body relaxed into a sparring stance. The attacker glared up at him, straightening into a matching stance.

With a yell, Charlie threw a round-kick at the attacker’s head. His opponent ducked, sliding between Charlie’s legs on his knees and jumping to his feet with a swift kick to Charlie’s back. Charlie stumbled forward, turning to face his attacker before he was struck again and instantly ducked the knife hand strike aimed at his head. Charlie responded with a flurry of punches, varying his target from the man’s head to his torso and back again. The man blocked most, but a few landed, knocking the attacker from his feet.

Charlie stood over him for a split second before finishing him off with a well-placed axe kick to the sternum. As the attacker rolled on the ground, sputtering, Charlie ran for the safety of a nearby cafe.

_________

Now, that’s shockingly not as bad as some I’ve seen, although it’s sure not going to win me a Pulitzer either. Some of you may even think this is an alright fight scene, aside from the obvious grammatical flaws that could be fixed with a few more drafts. But this is the example of what not to do, remember? So let’s figure out why.

Did you notice that I gave you very little about why this fight is happening, or where? I didn’t even give you the attacker’s name! But I did tell you in agonizing detail the techniques they’re using and where the blows land, placing all the emphasis on the choreography, and none at all on the characters or motivation behind this moment. The result? A laundry list of steps you could re-enact, but that you feel not at all.

That’s because this approach is all telling. That’s right, the infamous telling vs. showing debate. I tell you exactly what’s happening, but I don’t show it at all. You don’t feel invested in Charlie’s situation. You don’t feel the emotions. You feel excited, sure, because it’s action, and even poorly written action is exciting. But it has no lasting impact on you, does it? This scene is about as forgettable as they come.

It’s also unrealistic. Who out there noticed the completely implausible choreography I threw in? I know the martial artists in the audience did, because it screams “cool factor,” it’s entire existence a nod to something awesome and badass, but that in reality is actually physically impossible.

If you guessed the knee slide under Charlie’s legs, you’d be correct. Bravo! You get a cookie.

This is why it’s important to understand the dynamics of a fight, not just the choreography. Those who have done a round kick know that while performing it, you balance on one leg, your body positioned so that your center of gravity is entirely over that back leg. If someone were to try and go through your legs the way I described, they would take out your supporting leg and you’d both end up in a flailing pile of limbs.

And then there’s the knee slide itself. If you read it closely, you realized the attacker is standing still. Where’d he get the momentum for a knee slide? Unless they’re fighting on a slick, hardwood floor that’s just been mopped, he would need a running start. I don’t know about you, but if I tried to drop to my knees to slide anywhere, I’d be sitting on the floor looking like an idiot asking to get kicked in the face. It’s just not believable.

So let’s try that scene again, this time, fixing all those things I called out.

_________

Charlie grunted as his back slammed into the wall, Eric’s hands wrapped around his throat. Hate emanated from his friend’s eyes, judgement and accusation burning them into a sinister shade of blue. Charlie gasped, choking as Eric’s fingers cut off his air like a tourniquet.

His mind screamed at him, desperate to know why it was being punished. His lungs burned, his mouth working like a fish on dry land, sucking in nothing but fear. The edges of his vision started to grow fuzzy, black dots appearing over Eric’s shoulder, distorting the red glow of the club’s EXIT sign like reverse chickenpox. Panic flooded his veins with adrenaline. He struggled, clawing at the fingers sealed around his throat. He tried to kick Eric in the groin but only managed to connect with his shin, the impact ricocheting painfully through his foot.

Eric snarled, loosening his hold, giving Charlie the opening he needed. He threw his left arm between them, turning to the side and trapping Eric’s arm against his own chest before elbowing his best friend in the face.

Eric stumbled backward, grasping at his bleeding nose. Charlie didn’t wait. He advanced toward his opponent, his hands raised to guard his face, his body relaxing into the sparring stance he’d practiced for years– knees bent, weight forward on the balls of his feet, head lowered. Eric glared up at him, straightening into a matching stance. Their eyes locked. It was just like old times, only now there was no one to referee the match, to stop it before it went too far.

All this for a girl. Charlie knew it was ridiculous, that he should walk away, but fury mixed with adrenaline, coursing through him like a pulsing heat. If Eric wanted a fight, that’s what he’d get.

With a yell, Charlie threw a kick at Eric’s head. Eric ducked, sliding easily into a leg-sweep, knocking Charlie’s support from under him. The ground smashed into his back, forcing the air from his lungs in a rushing wheeze. He rolled backwards to his feet, still fighting against the tightness in his chest. Eric closed in on him, pushing his advantage, arms and legs flying. Charlie blocked as many of the blows as he could, his arms jarring in their sockets every time he did, his ribs and face blossoming with pain every time he didn’t. He stumbled back through the shadows of the alley until he was once again cornered.  Cringing, he held his hands up in surrender. Eric backed off, eying him warily as he spit blood onto the darkened pavement.

Charlie’s knuckles were bleeding, his ribs bruised, and his lip split into an oozing gash. It was time to end this.

“Alright, I give,” he said,  the words gravelly and pained as he forced his battered throat to work. “I’ll never go near your sister again.”

_________

Still not the most epic writing sample, but you see the difference, I hope? Now we not only know who Charlie’s fighting, but why. I’ve also fixed the choreography so that it’s believable, and added emotional content and description, putting the focus on the characters instead of the martial arts. No one cares about the techniques, but they care a lot about how those techniques feel, the emotion behind the action. Understanding that is the difference between creating a scene from a clinical distance and creating a deeper POV that will resonate with readers.

So, how can you take your fight scenes from flat to amazing? Easy, just remember these three things:

  1. Show, don’t tell. The techniques themselves are not important, the emotion is. Only use a technique name if there’s a reason we need to know the exact kick, etc.
  2. Believability is king. Never throw something in just because it sounds awesome. Make sure it’s actually physically possible and makes sense with the choreography and your world.
  3. When stumped, ask an expert. If you’re at a loss, find someone familiar with the martial arts and ask. Don’t just rely on Google and Youtube. They won’t give you the insight personal experience can.

That’s really all there is to it. Not so hard after all, is it? And if you ever find yourself in need of some martial arts feedback, I’m always available. Just send me a note with your questions and I’ll happily provide some help. 🙂

Writing Workshop Alert: Have You Scene It?

KWhipkey 4 Comments

I’m still winding down from Camp Nano, so this week’s post will be short, but sweet. I wanted to take this opportunity (while I try to stop twitching from energy drink withdrawals) to let you know about a fantastic workshop full of opportunities over at Ink in the Book. The lovely ladies behind that blog are hosting a scene writing workshop entitled, Have You Scene It? If you’ve ever wondered about the secret recipe for creating scenes that really pop, then head on over and find out.

For the last week, they’ve been posting lessons on the 6 elements needed to really make a scene sparkle. (Yes, I’m a little late with my announcement, but you can look past that, right?) They’ve covered everything from setting, goal and motivation, to emotion. There’s even a guest post on conflict and tension written by little old me.  (For those of you who don’t write, but are fans of my work, there’s a sneak peek of The Bardach revamp included in that post. So you may still want to check it out. I must warn you though, the excerpt’s incredibly brief. Like only a few paragraphs brief. Still, you can get a taste of what to expect when the story is re-released in all it’s new and improved glory some undisclosed, distant date in the future. 😛 )

Even if you feel like you’ve fully mastered the secret formula for scene awesomeness, there’s still plenty of reasons to meander your way through cyber-space to Ink in the Book. Today, they’re hosting a Q & A session with industry professionals, including myself. Next week, you’ll be able to actually submit a sample scene of your own for peer review/critique and possibly win a mini-mentorship from those same professional editors, agents and authors. And lastly, the workshop will conclude on Aug 9th with a pitch opportunity for those of you with completed manuscripts in need of a home. The Acquisitions team from REUTS Publications will be there scouting for excellent YA/NA manuscripts, so this is definitely not something to miss!

Whether you want to learn, pick the brains of industry professionals, gain insight into your work’s strengths and weaknesses or jump on the chance to pitch your book to a captive audience of agents and editors, show some love to the Ink in the Book ladies. I’ll be there the entire workshop, along with my fellow REUTS Publications senior staff members– Ashley and Jessica– and we’d love if you came by and said hi! 🙂

And don’t worry, I promise I’ll be back next week with something snarky. Until then, I’ll see you at the workshop!

Camp NaNoWriMo and the Final Outcome

KWhipkey 13 Comments

We have officially reached the final days of Camp NaNoWriMo and my last post in this series. Technically, it goes until the middle of next week, but I figured you guys were tired of hearing about it, and not much is likely to change between now and the actual close of the competition. So I’m gonna call it, throw in the towel, and give you my final verdict on the whole shebang a tiny bit early. Sound good? Good.

What is the final outcome? Did I manage to do the impossible and write the full 50,000 words? Well, that’s a resounding NO. But I’m not sure that’s really the point of Nano anyway. I mean, yes, that’s the goal, but I don’t think it’s the point. I think the point is to learn– learn about yourself, about writing, about stress and time management, about your previously undetected penchant for binge drinking. (No? Not the last one?) Sure, it’s nice if you “win.” But if you don’t manage to cross that 50k word finish line, do you really lose? Does not finishing mean you failed? I guess that depends on how you choose to look at it.

Success is an arbitrary term, defined by a subjective set of measurements. By the definition of the competition’s rules, no, I didn’t succeed. I failed miserably. But that’s just depressing, so I’m choosing to measure my Nano success not by the number of words I managed to write, but by the number of things I managed to learn during the process. Which, you’ll see, is quite a few.

Thanks to Nano, I now know the following:

1) I am not, and likely will never be, a morning person.

By “morning,” I mean early, butt-crack of the day, before the sun rises “morning.” My grand plans of getting up at the same time my husband goes to work, at the ungodly hour of 5 am, lasted for about two days before getting tossed out the window. Turns out, I’m just not functional before 7:30. The couple days I did manage to resist the siren’s call of the bed resulted in a complete lack of productivity and feeling like a zombie for the rest of the day. So I decided it wasn’t worth it and reverted to burrowing back under the covers for an extra hour and a half cat-nap. Lazy? Maybe. I prefer to think of it as self-aware. 😉

I can now say with 100% certainty that my optimal creative time is between the hours of 8 and 11:30 am. (Right smack when I have to be at work. Lucky me!) After that, I battle with Food Comas and the Afternoon Blahs and am really pretty useless until about 5 pm. (Mexico has it right with the whole siesta thing. Maybe I’ll move down there.) I think, if given a lifestyle that allowed it, I would probably find I’m a night owl like my mom. But for now, I’m stuck wishing I had a brain-cells optional job that conveniently needed me only in the afternoon.

2) Nano isn’t really intended for adults.

Let’s face it, being a grown-up is extremely over-rated. Why we spend our childhoods fervently wishing to grow up so we can be saddled with responsibility, burdened by debt and shackled to jobs we hate, I’ll never understand. But I’m just as guilty as everyone else for wishing it and not a day goes by that I wouldn’t give just about anything for a do-over, for a chance to be 16 again and have the boat-loads of time I wasted back.

But I’m getting off track.

I noticed that most of the successful people in our REUTS Publications team competition were young. Teenagers, actually. Which immediately turned my jaded 31 year old self into an emerald of jealousy. Of course they stomped on me! What else do they have to do in the middle of summer? Even if they are working, legally, their hours are limited to hobby status rather than the mind-numbing tedium of a full time job (or three, in my case.) So they have the time to dedicate to churning out insane amounts of words in a short period of time. Therefore, it’s my firm belief that Nano was formed with them in mind, because the rest of us will find it nearly impossible to carve out enough time between family, work, housekeeping/life maintenance, etc. to keep up with the word count requirements necessary to win. And yes, I am a little bitter about that.

3) Plotting works better than Pantsing.

I haven’t outlined in years. Well, aside from a loose blocking-in of scenes so I don’t wander completely off the reservation while writing. But in terms of a true outline? I think the last time I wrote one was in like 2006. So I’ve obviously considered myself a Pantser. (For those non-literary folks in the audience, a Pantser is someone who writes by the seat of their pants, as opposed to a Plotter, who maps everything out ahead of time.) But I knew going into Nano that I didn’t have a chance in hell of actually reaching the goal if I continued that way. So I opted to set aside the complexity of my current projects and work on something different. Something old.

That’s right, I dredged up that outline from 2006 for what could be considered a standard Fairy Tale and proceeded to have at it. Guess what I found? It’s easier to write when you know where you’re going with it! (Hello, Captain Obvious.) Because I knew this story’s plot inside and out, I didn’t have to waste time trying to figure out what came next and just focused on the characters. The result? 868 words in less than an hour. Maybe that doesn’t sound like a lot to most of you, but that’s a personal best for me. Normally, it would have taken about a week to get that much done on Unmoving. So I definitely recommend becoming a Plotter if you’re going to give Nano a try. I may even be jumping the fence to Plotter-ville permanently after seeing the difference it made in my productivity.

4) Technology is your best friend.

If you, like me, don’t have the luxury of being a teenager or a full-time writer, then listen carefully to this next bit– Technology is your best friend. Seriously. I would never have been able to squeeze in as much as I did without the aid of cloud-computing, smart phones and an iPad. Thanks to Google Docs (which I highly recommend), I literally carried my manuscript in my pocket, so whenever I had even 30 seconds to jot down a couple of words while sitting in traffic, I could. (I don’t actually advocate that. Texting and driving is bad. Don’t do it.) Pretty much everything I wrote happened while waiting to pick up the hubby from work, during my lunch break, while I cooked dinner or just about any other moment I could steal away between tasks. Technology is a beautiful thing, people. Embrace it.

Those are just a few of the lessons I’m walking away from Nano with, along with things like:

  • Writing action in first person is ridiculously difficult.
  • I can actually spew out a rough draft that isn’t complete crap– just mostly crap.
  • Energy Drinks are toxic and will make you look like a tweaker. (I already knew that, but it was reiterated.)
  • Simple narratives are fun but will inevitably try to complicate themselves.
  • Nano is quite possibly the best and worst thing any writer can attempt.

All in all? I’m glad I was forced to give Nano a try. Even though I didn’t win, I feel like I learned some really valuable lessons, things I hope will work to my advantage now that I’m free to return to my normal sloth-like pace. So believe it or not, I actually recommend it. There’s another one coming up in November. Give it a shot and see what things you’ll learn about yourself in the process. And for those of you who’ve already done it, what lessons did you come away with? Did any of them stick?

Camp NaNoWriMo and the Impatience Demon

KWhipkey Leave a comment

Alright, week 3 of the REUTS Publications Camp Nano Team Competition is ending, and I’m starting to look like the stress ball I’ve become. My hair has definitely taken on a few more strands of silver, Carpal Tunnel has taken up permanent and painful residence in my right wrist and I’m pretty sure my blood is now caffeine. And don’t even get me started on the pounds I’ve packed on thanks to stress-eating several tubs of ice cream. Yeah, I told you this wasn’t going to be pretty.

Turns out, there’s a downside to curing the Perfection Plague. Just when you think you’re free and clear, it appears. Spawned from the depths of River I-Can-Actually-Do-This located in 50,000-Words-in-a-Month-is-Nothing Land, the Impatience Demon will take every shred of patience you have and maul it into nonexistence. And if you’re already an impatient person, well, sorry to say, you’re just doomed. You may as well have a bullseye tattooed on your forehead, because it’s coming for you, and, like the Grim Reaper, there’s no escaping it.

(What? Every camp needs a good ghost story, doesn’t it? 😉 )

I’ve never considered myself a patient person. In fact, before I discovered the beauty of headphones, I was that kid that asked, “Are we there yet?” every 5 minutes on a road trip. So it’s not surprising that Camp Nano’s Impatience Demon found an easy target in me. What is surprising is the level to which it pushed me, sending me so far off the cliffs of bitterness and resentment that I became paralyzed. I’m sure you can guess what happened to my word count after that. Yep, last week was definitely not my shining moment productivity-wise.

What does an Impatience Demon haunting look like? Well, something like this:

You wake up feeling slightly sick to your stomach but sure you’re going to get things done. A few deep breaths and you’re good. You’ve got this. Until you realize that, oh crap, you have to go to work or that empty refrigerator isn’t going to get filled.

Grumbling, you punch in to your daily sentence at the Dreaded Day Job, only to get slammed with things that interfere with even thinking about writing, let alone sneaking a few minutes to do it. But you push through, growing more and more resentful with every paper that lands on your desk.

Eventually, your time is up and freedom is yours. Except, oh yeah, you have to put gas in the car. You roll up to the gas station and it’s got a bazillion idiots in front of you, lollygagging around the pump like it’s an ice cream social. When it’s finally your turn, you run into problems with your rewards points, say “screw it” after a few failed attempts, pay full price and head home– only to get stuck in traffic. Every jerk on the planet decides to cut you off, because apparently understanding the concept of merging lanes isn’t required to obtain a driver’s license anymore and you end up inching feet at a time until that 7 mile drive feels like 200 and you’re pretty sure you could have walked home faster.

You step in the door with a few minutes left before dinner, but you still don’t get to write. There’s a pile of bills you have to deal with first, and you watch your bank account dry up like a puddle in a drought. That’s Ok though, you didn’t really want to eat this week anyway. It’s now dinner time, so you scrounge around in what’s left of last month’s groceries and concoct something passably edible.

Now you get to write, yes? Nope, because there’s laundry to fold, dishes to clean, people to pay attention to, and oh yeah, your DVR is about to implode. You tackle all of these things, growing more and more irritated at anything that stands between you and the computer until finally, you get a moment to yourself to write. There’s only one problem, you can’t concentrate.

Focus? Yeah, you kiss that goodbye as it floats out the window on the laughter of the Impatience Demon.

Sounds a lot like the Procrastination Monster, doesn’t it? Except for one major difference– the Procrastination Monster gets it’s power from distraction, while the Impatience Demon’s comes from a lack of control. You want to write during an Impatience Demon attack, you just can’t, resenting everyone and everything that keeps you from getting to your manuscript.

I was actually shocked at how quickly I went from happily going about my daily routine to uttering streams of expletives worthy of a sailor over every little thing. I have never hated folding laundry so much. Or checking social media. Or answering emails. Or even watching TV! And you know if I’m resenting the DVR, there’s something wrong. That’s when I figured out I was being haunted, that my impatience had reached such a toxic level, I was in danger of burning everything to the ground in frustration.

So I did the only thing I could– I walked away. I disconnected from everything, buried my head in the proverbial sand for a couple days and pretended the Demon didn’t exist. Not my smartest move; it completely backfired. When I came back, the Demon was still waiting for me, except now it was armed with a mess load of things I was behind on.

But if I failed to exorcise the Impatience Demon, how is this lesson helpful? Because, Grasshopper, I didn’t fail.

Yes, I lost the battle, but admitting that I lost allowed me to find my fractured focus, pick up the pieces and glue them back together with a renewed sense of purpose. I called on all the Martial Arts training I’ve had to find discipline and all the tricks from decades of fighting Depression to forcibly change my thinking back to the positive. Essentially, I stripped the Demon of it’s power. And you can too.

When you find yourself starting to drown under the avalanche of things you can’t control, hating everything around you and sending your loved ones scrambling for cover from your fire-breathing nastiness, try this:

Step 1) Find an appropriate outlet for all that pent up rage.

Go for a run, punch something (preferably not your loved ones), escape to the library, the beach, or anywhere that grounds you in tranquility for a few hours. You’ll feel the Demon’s poison leech from your brain, and when you return home, you’ll be ready for step 2.

Step 2) Remind yourself to see the silver lining.

This step is the hardest. It takes a lot of will power and self-realization/acceptance to change your thinking. But it is possible. All it takes is stepping outside of your negative thoughts, realizing that your perspective is skewed and forcibly changing your thought process, focusing on positive things instead. (I make it sound so easy, don’t I? Trust me, it’s not. It took me years to master it.)

For example, say you’re royally ticked off about having to do the dishes, your thoughts swirling around an image of breaking plates on the wall. Recognize that thought as negative, realize that your emotion is far more violent than the situation warrants, and press pause. Now, try to think of what’s good about this particular activity, like the fact that you won’t have smelly dishes stinking up your kitchen, the feel of the warm water, or the smell of the soap. Once you have that positive thing in mind, press play again and your thoughts will take on a rosier disposition. See? Not that hard once you figure it out. The hardest part is recognizing when your thoughts take that turn down Negative Lane.

Step 3) One step at a time.

Now that you’ve let go of all your angst, the Impatience Demon is gasping for life. You’re just about free from its clutches. Instead of feeling overwhelmed, like everything is out of your control, take a deep breath and focus on a single task. Forget everything else. Put blinders on and just get that one thing done. Then move on to the next task on the list, focusing entirely on that one, and so on. Before you know it, you’ve conquered the entire list! Pretty slick, huh?

And there you have it. A simple remedy for surviving the Impatience Demon’s attack. I’ll bet, if you listen hard enough, you can still hear the echo of its last cry as it disappears in a poof of smoke. Feels pretty good, doesn’t it? Now take your victory and get back to writing. I know I’m going to. I’ve got one week left and a massive number of words to make up!