Do You Listen to Music While Writing?


Photo credit: tarop on Flickr
So, even though I have over 600 songs in my iTunes library (an amateur collection compared to some, I know), when writing, Pandora is my best friend. Usually.

I’ve heard some writers say that they need absolute silence while writing, while others swear by writing to music. Some have writing playlists and others like myself prefer a more eclectic mix, depending on what’s being written.

For any of you who’ve read my blog for more than a couple of weeks, it probably comes as no surprise to you that my music-listening habits depend largely on the writing session. While first-drafting and trying to spit out as many words as my fingers will allow in a crazy, half-hour writing sprint, I usually turn Pandora on and listen to my Shinee radio. 

Shinee is a Korean band, so the station is filled with mostly Korean pop, which is helpful for two reasons: firstly I don’t understand most of the words, so it doesn’t interfere with my thought process (most, because I’ve discovered many Korean bands like to sing parts of their songs in English or throw random English words into their songs…go figure), and secondly the upbeat music helps me to keep a quick writing pace.   

Naturally there are downsides to using Pandora while writing, namely when a particularly distracting song comes on and I have to pause my writing to skip the song (or worse—when I run out of skips and have to listen to it anyway or else switch to an English-speaking station), and I’ve come to realize that if you listen to a song enough times, regardless of the language, your brain will start to learn the lyrics (or at least mine does), so I do occasionally find myself singing random Korean-sounding words while I’m supposed to be writing. Oops.

However, as you might imagine, when first-drafting a particularly emotional or intense scene, it can be a little difficult to focus in the right mood with happy Pop music in the background, and that’s when I either switch to a rock station or write in silence.

When I’m not first-drafting, and I really need to focus on choosing the right words, I tend to prefer silence (although there are exceptions). In those instances, any type of noise can be distracting, especially if I’m already struggling to put words down. This also applies to editing—listening to music while editing is very near impossible for me, regardless of the language of the music. Silence (or near-silence) is a must while editing.

So those are my music-writing-editing habits. But I’m curious: do you listen to music while writing or editing, or do you write in silence? Why?

Do You Read Your Old Writing?


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Sometimes, when I’m between WIPs and books and blog posts and I find myself drumming my fingers on my desk and spending way too much time checking Twitter /tumblr /Facebook /Twitter /e-mail, I go through my documents and start pulling out some of my old writing.

And sometimes, it can be embarrassing encouraging to see some of my writing from last year or three or five years ago, because it gives me a pretty good idea of how much my writing has improved over time. And sometimes it’ll remind me of the ideas I had and inspire me to write something new and brainstorm with new WIP ideas and play with words for a while.

But other times I look at my old writing and remember why I put it in the (virtual) drawer to begin with.

As writers, unless we experience some sort of computer (or non-computer) related catastrophe that destroys all archived copies of our writing, we’ll always have the files waiting to be opened again. And as we writers tend to be a perfectionistic bunch, it can sometimes be a little painful to venture into the database of our previously archived writings.

But I think there’s a lot that can be learned from occasionally looking back at where we started with fresh, more experienced eyes. Because while the flaws in our writing from a couple years ago may stand out as if a neon sign was pointing at them and dancing around in little circles, flaws in our writing from, say, yesterday, are much harder to find. And although we’d like to think that we’ve improved so much from our archived writings that we won’t find any of the same mistakes, chances are that’s not the case, regardless of how much we’ve improved.

Being aware of the flaws in our writing from a couple months or years ago can help us not to make the same mistakes again when we work on a new WIP. And even if we don’t go through our old work with a fine-toothed comb to try to pick out all the little mistakes on the page, just knowing what elements didn’t work in an old WIP can make it infinitely easier to avoid them in our newer manuscripts.

So next time you’re between WIPs and books and blog posts and you find yourself using the interwebs to entertain you for a while, take a couple minutes to go through your documents and pull out some of your old writing. You never know what you might gain from the experience.

Do you read your old writing? If so, does it help? If you don’t, why not? 

Why Writers Must Be Observers

Photo credit: Raymond Larose on Flickr
Contrary to popular belief, a writer must be more than a person who just writes. Of course writing is our primary goal, but in order to write authentically, we must first be vigilant observers. All the time.

You see, we writers have a pretty unique job; we are tasked with a mission to bring the impossible to life on the page, to create stories that pluck our readers from their everyday lives and to bring attention to details of the world around them that ring perfectly true. 

But in order to achieve that, we must first observe the world around us. When there’s a wicked thunderstorm and the trees are bowing to the wind and the claps of thunder and lightning send most people searching for their flashlights, the writer should be listening and watching very carefully, while asking, how would I describe this?

When overwhelmed with emotion—whether it’s happiness, anger, frustration or something else—writers must pause and pay attention to exactly how they feel so that when their characters experience the same emotion, it can be described with authenticity. A great example of this is one of my favorite passages from The Fault in Our Stars by John Green:

“Much of my life had been devoted to trying not to cry in front of people who loved me, so I knew what Augustus was doing. You clench your teeth. You look up. You tell yourself that if they see you cry, it will hurt them, and you will be nothing but A Sadness in their lives, and you must not become a mere sadness, so you will not cry, and you say all of this to yourself while looking up at the ceiling, and then you swallow even though your throat does not want to close and you look at the person who loves you and smile.” (Page 213-214)

I know that seems like a pretty depressing favorite passage, but the reason it stuck out to me so much is because when I read it for the first time, I nodded along and thought, yes, it’s exactly like that. Granted, my way of thinking when upset is pretty different from Hazel’s (the POV character), but the clenching of teeth and looking up at the ceiling and swallowing when your throat is so tight it’s painful are all things I’m sure many of us have experienced when trying not to cry.

Another (lighter) example from Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi:

“Every butterfly in the world has migrated to my stomach.” (Page 155) 

This example is less literal than the first, but I think we all know the feeling Juliette (the POV character) is referencing.

Our goal as writers is to take every day real things and translate them into words that remind our readers of that exact moment. That ring true and honest and have them nodding along and saying yes, that’s it, it’s just like that. But in order to do that we must first pay attention to everything, all the time, and take mental (or real) notes as we move through our lives and experience the world.

Then after observing, we translate those moments back into words so that we can share them with someone else.

Have you ever encountered a sentence or passage that felt exactly right? 

Blogging, a Year Later: Thank You


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Roughly a year ago (on May 6th 2011, to be exact), I did this thing where I started a blog. It was very tan and red then, and the banner wasn’t half as attractive (think: block of red with white text on it) and there was a hugenormous picture of books in the background because I like books.

Roughly a year ago I put up my very first post ever, in which I rambled a lot and might have said something about tying the metaphorical manifestation of writing to a chair and shoving Ritalin down her throat and I might have mentioned brownies a couple of times. I’ll admit it was a strange first post.

I bring this up because a year ago when I launched Writability, I never imagined that twelve months later I’d have over 100,000 pageviews and so many amazing followers. And I’m not saying that to brag—I just want to thank you guys, because after putting up my first post I thought, well, if one person reads this and likes it, it’ll be worth it, and well…you’ve made this experience more than worth it.

I’ve learned so much from this blog, from the fantastic discussions with you amazing commenters, from forcing myself to think up three posts a week, even when I was sure I wouldn’t be able to think of anything.

If you’re new to this blog, then I want to welcome you and say thanks for stopping by. I hope you stick around enjoy interacting with the Writability community here as much as I do.

If you’ve been a follower and you’ve joined the discussion, then I want to thank you for your wonderful support. Your input, advice and opinions have made this experience an incredible one. An extra thanks to Daniel Swensen, Jennifer Bennett, Susan Sipal, Matthew Rowe and Jeremy Feijten for being such awesome and active community members.

If you’ve been a follower and you haven’t really commented before, I want to thank you for your silent support, and I hope that you’ll join the discussion someday soon.

In short if you’re here, reading my words, then you have my gratitude. All of you are amazing, so thank you. Thank you.

In celebration of Writability’s first birthday I’d like to share with you the top five most popular posts thus far, as chosen by your fantastic support:

  1. Why Writers Must Read
  2. 5 Writing Myths
  3. What Makes a Great First Sentence?
  4. Writing Quickly: A Secret Strategy
  5. How to Finish Writing a Novel

I couldn’t have done it without you guys. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 

The Value of Reading Your WIP Out Loud

Photo credit: Marc - who just moved on Flickr
I’d always heard it was good for writers to read their work out loud, but the value of doing so didn’t really hit me until I really started delving into revisions.

With my first few WIPs, I actually read my work out loud as I was writing the first draft…to family members. It became this sort of thing with my family where I would read the draft (often a chapter at a time) up until the point where I’d stopped writing and they would look at me and say and? And I would shrug and say, I don’t know. That’s where I’m at. Which was usually followed by get back to work.

While I now cringe at the thought of reading the first draft to anyone, I’ve since learned that reading subsequent drafts out loud is especially helpful after you've done a couple of rounds of revision and your eyes start to glaze over when you try to read your WIP again.

You see, most of us know that if you read something a certain amount of times and you become familiar with the text, your brain starts to skip over things. It stops noticing typos and awkward sentences and words that you’ve used way too many times and when “it is” should be “it was” or he accidentally becomes she.

When you read your work out loud, however, you start to notice those things again. You’ll stumble over a sentence and squint at it and realize just how awkward it sounds, or you’ll be reading a sentence about your male protagonist and say, “then she went” and realize—quite suddenly—that your mistake just changed the gender of your main character. And while your brain may forget that you’ve said a certain word too many times, your ears will notice when you say gaze again and again and again.

 The best part? You don’t need to read aloud to anyone in particular.

You can read to your dog, your fish, your one-eyed gerbil Alfredo, or your child’s collection of stuffed animals. Bonus points if you can drag/bribe/coerce someone into listening to your story as you read it out loud, because then you can gage their reaction during various parts of your WIP (did he fall asleep during your action scene? Laugh at something that wasn’t supposed to be funny? etc.), but if not, it’s ok because the exercise is really for you, anyway.

Reading your work out loud allows you to pick up on inconsistencies, breaks in flow and all those little errors that your brain decided to ignore while you last read it. As long as you don’t mind looking slightly crazy while reading to an empty room (or not), I highly recommend trying it out.

Have you ever read your WIP out loud? If so, was it helpful? If not, why not? 

How (Not) to Write a Novel


Photo credit: Sharon Drummond on Flickr
It seems that everyone is writing a novel (or planning to/thinking about writing one) these days. With the age of personal computers and other computing devices booming, it’s not uncommon to hear about so-and-so’s Aunt Gilberta who’s going to write a soon-to-be bestselling novel about her enlightenment on the human condition.

But for every writer who is toiling away at their computers every day, pouring their heart and soul into their manuscripts, there are many more staring at their computer screens, wondering where to start.

And thusly I introduce to you fifteen easy steps to writing a novel:
  1. Open up a Word (or other word processing document). Once opened, stare at the abyss that is the blank, white screen for at least a full minute. Think about the enormous task you have ahead of you and how you have to fill not only one of these screens, but somewhere around 300 of them. Stare some more.

  2. Check Twitter. And Facebook. And tumblr. And Twitter again. Spend at least an hour checking your feed and reblogging/retweeting/sharing interesting/funny/adorable posts with your fellow followers/fans/friends. The last thing you want is to neglect your social media presence while working on the book.

  3. Check your e-mail. You forgot to check it in step two. It’s ok. Nobody’s perfect.

  4. Stare at the blank document again. Crack your fingers (if you do that sort of thing). Stretch a little and run your fingers over the keyboard. Breathe.

  5. Decide you’re hungry. How are you supposed to write if all you can think about is food? Go treat yourself to a Starbucks. Or a brownie. Or whatever suits your fancy.

  6. Call your Mother and tell her about the amazing book you’re writing. Hell, call all of your relatives and tell them about it. Oh, and that girl you used to talk to in high school—she should know, too. In fact, why don’t you post about it on Facebook? Then everyone will know about your masterpiece.

  7. Pack up your laptop and bring it to the nearest café. That’s what writers do, right? They bring their laptops to cafés and crank out works of literary genius.

  8. Check your Twitter and e-mail again. It’s been too long since you last checked it. What if the Twittersphere had collapsed in your absence and left a horrible, gaping black hole on the internet that sucked everything else into it? Oh, it’s still there? Good. Carry on.

  9. Stare at the blank document again (again). This time it’s real. You can feel it—the inspiration is reaching towards you through the coffee-saturated air and jazzy music. The people are all watching. The next words you write will go down in history as pure genius.

  10. Write the title. Aha! You’ve started! And the title—its sheer brilliance brings tears to your eyes.

  11. Write “Chapter 1.” Ok, ok we’re getting somewhere. Chapter 1. Now the first words, those beautiful first words…

  12. Type “It was a dark and stormy night…” All brilliant novels start on a dark and stormy night.

  13. Stare at the (not) blank document. Drink some coffee. Stare some more. Type a sentence and delete it. Type “the” and delete it. It must be perfect, perfect…

  14. Realize you’re hungry again. I mean, it’s dinner time so you should probably go home and eat, right? Right.

  15. Congratulate yourself on a hard day’s work. No one really writes more than a couple sentences a day anyway. Besides, you can’t rush genius.
Sarcasm and false advice aside (and pretending none of us have ever done any of those aforementioned steps *ehem*), there are really only three steps to writing a novel:
  1. Write
  2. Revise
  3. Repeat
And that’s all there is to it.

What steps would you add to the NOT list and what (real) tips do you have for novel-writing? 

Voice: You Are Not Your Characters


Photo credit: Zabowski on Flickr
For much of my journey as a writer, I was aware of this thing called voice. I knew what it was, for the most part, and the theory behind how to develop it (that is, write and read a lot). I knew that an author's voice was different from a character's voice, but it wasn't until I started writing in first person that I came to realize that one can overpower the other.

In my case, my writer voice was way overpowering my character's voice (a problem, especially in first person) and this revelation forced me to stop and rethink how I view voice.

You see, your writer voice develops naturally over time—it's something that threads together with every word you write and every sentence you read. It evolves gradually, naturally into something that is you, into your mark on the page.

But the character voice — that's an entirely different battle, because your character's voice is not the same as your voice. Not even close.

I've been following John Green's "Only If You Finished The Fault in Our Stars" tumblr, and oftentimes people have asked him why he had Hazel or Augustus (the book's two main characters) say or think something. The most popular of these questions was why Hazel states at the beginning of the novel that V for Vendetta is a “boy movie,” and whether he believes V for Vendetta to be a "boy movie." I found part of his answer particularly interesting (and relevant, so bear with me):

"I am not a sixteen-year-old girl with stage IV cancer named Hazel Grace Lancaster, so I did not call V for Vendetta a boy movie. I was writing from her perspective, and it’s really important to note that it’s not necessarily my perspective. So I think HAZEL (at least beginning of the novel Hazel) would consider V for Vendetta a boy movie. I generally do not attach gender to films or other works of art, as it seems like a weird thing to do."

What he's hitting on here is golden advice for any writer: we are not our characters. I mean, we are in the sense that we create and develop them, but by no means are we them (because if we are, we have a new problem, namely, that you're writing a Mary Sue into your story, which is an entirely different post (and problem) on its own).

Your voice — that is, the voice of the writer — must be different from your characters' voices (unless you're writing an autobiography, in which case, carry on).

For me, that revelation meant having to rewrite my WIP while constantly asking myself if this is something my protagonist would think or say. I won't pretend it wasn't a lot of work, but I came out of it with an entirely new perspective on developing and writing characters.

How do you develop character voices? Have you ever found your writer voice was overpowering your character voice? How did you fix it?
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