My Dad Read to Me - And That's Awesome

I want to talk about two things that go hand-in-hand in my memory.  My dad, and kid's books. I come from a farming family, and anyone who knows anything about farming knows that farmers work hard - and often. My dad came home right around our bedtime, and was usually back in the fields before we were on the school bus. But he made time to read to my sister and I, one book for each of us. Mom would offer - Mom would darn near beg if it was getting late and he wasn't home yet - but we wanted Dad, cause he was our reader man.

Sister and I had a lot of books from the Weekly Reader Book Club, and if you were born in the same decade I was you probably had books whose first page looked like this:

Yeah, that's right, I spelled my name with a "b" at one point in my life. Actually, due to my confusion regarding the number of bumps in an "m" or an "n" and the (I felt) misleading nature of the letter "d," I often identified myself as "Mimby" when claiming my books, something my immediate family like to remind me of whenever I forget that I can be wrong sometimes.

I had a lot of awesome books from Weekly Reader, and other places too. Sure, I had RUNAWAY BUNNY and MIKE MULLIGAN and yes, they rock. I also had some awesome books that haven't stood the test of time in the sense of the big picture, but in my house they were golden.  

I had books that originally belonged to my Dad. And those books have his name on the inside cover - he spelled it right, by the way.

So, I want to hear about those unsung children's books that you wouldn't let your grubby little hands put down. Tell me about the authors and books who've passed down from parent to child, inspiring those moments when you don't need to turn the page because you know the words, even though you haven't laid eyes on it in twenty years. And don't forget to tell someone who read to you:

Social Media: Rabbit Hole Or Regroup Help?

I participate in social media in pretty much all the ways, and most of the time when I'm on one or the other I see writers talking about how they're supposed to be doing something else... probably writing. There are plenty of methods for blocking yourself from using Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Pinterest (you name it) but the easiest one is plain old self-control.

But lately I've come to question whether it's actually necessary.

I love social media and use it to my advantage - and I don't just mean directing readers to my books. I have a certain word count I want to hit every day when I'm drafting, and it's rare that I actually hit it in one bang-out session. Typically about halfway through there's a moment where I simply don't feel like writing anymore. Sometimes I even know what's going to happen next, but it doesn't matter. The candle has been lit, yes, but it burned down to the end of the wick and all I've got left is the little nub of blue flame that's about to be drowned in wax.

In other words, I'm just not on fire at that point.

Like all writers, there are times when I have to force myself to write. I actually make the announcement to the boyfriend, climb the stairs like Anne Boelyn at the Tower and treat opening my laptop like a reverse guillotine. It can be that hard.

Once I'm there, in front of the computer with the WIP up on a Word doc, I know I can't walk away. I won't have the fortitude to go through the process of putting myself in front of it again. But I also don't want to make words when all I'm running on is that little tiny blue flame.

So, I open up a browser screen, and I see what everybody else is up to. Sometimes I just hit up Goodreads for a little bit and look at books I want to read. Sometimes I scroll through Tumblr, check Facebook for any notifications, hop on Twitter to commiserate with other writers.

And you know what? The laptop is already open. The Word doc is hovering behind the browser, letting me know that the word count for today isn't hit yet. My flame rekindles as I give myself a little time away from the WIP, and when I return the next bit of dialogue is more natural than it would've been otherwise, the next step in the plot more evident than it would've been if I slapped something together for the sake of forward movement.

I didn't leave my computer. I don't have to force myself to sit back down in front of it. It wasn't a rabbit hole of distraction, but a much needed regroup - one I take everyday.

So don't treat social media like the anathema to your creativity. It might be the gasp of oxygen that you need.

Run Away! Run Away!

Which, as everyone knows is a much better way of saying retreat.

I took one of those this past week, getting away from floors that need swept, laundry that needs washed, dried, folded, put away (then dirtied and the circle of life continues) weeds that need pulled... all the things that make up daily life.

And getting away from all that is something I highly recommend for writers. I used to think that if I took a writing retreat, I would laze about, act like I'm in a coffee commercial while I sit on the deck of a cabin, watch cable (because I don't have it at home), take long walks in the woods while pretending that I'm in some sort of medication commercial, and other such things that wouldn't bulk the word count in any way.

But the pleasant thing about retreating is that there's no guilt. You don't have to sit in front of your laptop and immediately think about the dishes, laundry, garden, floors, and the multitude of other things that reality imposes upon us. Without the excuse of responsibility (and that's what we like to call it instead of procrastination) you can really make some strides in your writing.

I passed the 30k mark on GIVEN TO THE SEA this week, and that was a great feeling. So if you get the chance, definitely run away.