I’m currently taking the non-fiction course offered by scribewriting.com. With a number of resources and ample instructor expertise, the logical and methodical approach been very helpful in addressing audience and outlining the larger project. [Tomorrow, we will cover more of the actual writing of the book and on Friday, they are offering a Q. and A. session that will last at least an hour.]
These same folks will be teaching a free course on memoir next week.
Follow this link to sign up: https://scribewriting.com/bookschool/
Just thought I would pass along the info for those considering a new non-fiction project.
Yesterday’s trademark was relentlessness.
That was yesterday.
Day 2 of a turnaround is often pivotal.
How to keep going?
A few tips:
—Tell the voices of doubt to put a sock in it.
—Generate and keep nearby (digitally or on your person) a list of ‘live’ topics that beg you to engage.
—Carry a notebook. Leonardo da Vinci kept one, so you’ll be in fairly notable company.
—How about mastering dictation on your device? Leonardo would have gone nuts with voice input.
Buddying up is always a good strategy to keep your momentum.
A few more tips…
Oh sure, you run the risk of rocking a little too far…
But think of that brief thrill of the climb, and even the sudden descent.
There are lessons in both.
Hangup for the day: “Who wants to read about my life?
Consider this: Don’t think your life.
Think small. Think moments.
Find your ‘spin’, your slant–in your voice.
If these moments resonated with you, they will hit home with others.
Those endless hours alone are turning ugly.
Along with changing your writing landscape, consider tapping into collective genius. Form a writing productivity group that checks their ‘critic’ gene at the door.
It’s called ‘authorial laryngitis’.
A loss of your writer’s voice.
You’re able to spit out words on your screen, but they don’t accurately reflect ‘you’.
Let’s cut to Allen Ginsberg for a solution:
“To gain your own voice, you have to forget about having it heard.”
In your desperate search for tantalizing bits of dialogue, you saunter into a coffee shop and slither into eavesdropping mode.
A few tips:
- Leaning your ear toward a conversation–not cool. [Just nudge and point your voice-recording smartphone in the right direction.]
- Dropping the fork toward the speaker–just plain desperate. [Go with a napkin and hope the air currents are friendly. Quieter. Caution: don’t use the napkin afterwards.]
- Cupping your hands behind each ear–pathetic. [You might as well just slide in next to the folks and start jotting down their every word.]
And if you’re too busy to intrude, there are probably a few non-virtual assistants willing to help out.
Consider the debilitating carpal tunnel syndrome.
Cut back on flipping through pages of writer magazines, clicking through cat videos, and flinging your pencils across the room during those inevitable struggles with mushy middles.
Another species perhaps?
This one’s unequivocal apathy to your ‘read-backs’ should steel you in the face of future unappreciative audiences.
Your work eschews profanity.
No reason to start that &*^%! now, right?
You don’t need %$#! or ^*@#@! or ^@#&! to verbidextrously [don’t bother looking it up] weave your way through that tense showdown between the mallwalking retirees.