Someday, darlings, I may be able to tell you about the extraordinary adventures that have been forced upon the Directorate these past months; for now, however, I must keep my trembling silence. I may tell you only that my adoration for you continues unabated, and I eagerly anticipate the day when we have dealt with the horrors which confront us so that I may return to you.

I offer these two fabulous things to keep you inspired and informed until that marvelous day.

First, the luminous Elissa Bassist at the Rumpus offers . . . → Read More: Two Fabulous Things]]>

Darlings! O, how I have missed you in these long lonely days!

Someday, darlings, I may be able to tell you about the extraordinary adventures that have been forced upon the Directorate these past months; for now, however, I must keep my trembling silence. I may tell you only that my adoration for you continues unabated, and I eagerly anticipate the day when we have dealt with the horrors which confront us so that I may return to you.

I offer these two fabulous things to keep you inspired and informed until that marvelous day.

First, the luminous Elissa Bassist at the Rumpus offers bountiful wisdom. Darlings! Go read Unsolicited Writing Advice You Want.

- Write every day. If you can’t do that, do this: set an egg timer for 20 minutes; get a pencil and paper and have them touch; don’t lift your pen or pencil off the paper; write “I cannot write every day” on the piece of paper until you have something else to say; do this every day.

- A conversation between two writers: Writer 1 says, “Blah blah blah,” and Writer 2 says, “Shut up and write.”

Second, may I call your attention to the doings of the Directorate’s beloved Dance of Shiva teacher, Ms. Wodzinski? She’s started her own delicious site, including a fabulous club for Dance of Shiva students. Fear not; Ms. Wodzinski will continue her work at the Directorate! We wish her the most extraordinary success in her new project.

Until the fates bring us together again, darlings! Kisses!

Dearest Lida,

I was delighted to receive your correspondence, but surely you jest—vampires? But have you not just vanquished the zombies? This is terrible news indeed.

I won’t mince words, my dear. I’ve encountered the vampires. I am nearly ashamed to admit I have been seduced myself.

Does that shock you, Lida? I apologize. My wanderings in the wilderness often cause me to forget the gentility of polite company. But . . . → Read More: The Scent of Desperation]]>

A recent incident compelled me to write to my dear friend Stacey Cornelius for advice. I found her response so marvelously useful that I knew I must share it with you all immediately! Take heed!–Lida.

Dearest Lida,

I was delighted to receive your correspondence, but surely you jest—vampires? But have you not just vanquished the zombies? This is terrible news indeed.

I won’t mince words, my dear. I’ve encountered the vampires. I am nearly ashamed to admit I have been seduced myself.

Does that shock you, Lida? I apologize. My wanderings in the wilderness often cause me to forget the gentility of polite company. But yes, it is true: like the sweet young thing who falls prey to wistful dreams of adoring suitors and who longs for fame and riches, my eyes—and my mind—were deceived.

But you don’t need to hear the sordid details; you have more pressing matters to attend to.

I will tell you instead about the unmasking of these creatures and the manner in which to escape their clutches.

First, however, I must warn you: the monsters you speak of are highly specialized.

Vampires are attracted by the scent of desperation.

No, my love, it is neither the wayward they seek, nor the innocent. It is the disease of doubt that comes from the darkest depths of the soul that draws them.

Have you already perceived the awful truth, Lida? Yes, dear heart—the scourge is self-inflicted. We summon them, like the rose calls to a wasp. In the end, we are left alone, lost, more empty than ever, our lifeblood drained and aspirations dashed.

You must therefore recognize the villain when he presents himself. He comes with pretty words, the sweetest of reassurances, to soothe your most secret insecurities. He pretends to know your dearest dreams. He plays the most lovely music to your ears.

And you may know what happens then—you become lost. Not in the lush forest of creative rumination, but in a strange place where your thoughts are not entirely your own. You become obsessed with pleasing this magical creature. You hang on his words, gather tomes filled with false promises, pressing them to your forehead in the long, lonely night, praying for epiphanies.

You despair, believing your quality will never be sufficient. Why, oh why, can you not become the glorious creature he promised you will be?

When you reach this moment of despair, when all your faith is spent, then it is time to unmask him.

But how, you ask?

It is simple:

You must listen.

You will discover the smallest dissonance in his song, a strange reverberation that can only be felt in the bones. That sound is easily lost in the sea of confusion, and yet it is only when you listen deeply that you know: he is false.

And when you finally see the beast for what he truly is, you must turn away.

Oh, I know, the prospect is frightening. Turn away from one so dangerous? It seems preposterous. Yet it is necessary, because he is, in truth, a mirror, the very image of your fear, the reflection of your unacknowledged distrust of your truest self.

Your revelation robs him of his terrible power. When you pull away, the sound of his treacherous tongue begins to fade. You will then experience two strange things: regret, but also the beginnings of quietness.

You must nurture this new sensation. It will serve you well, because you will encounter more vampires. Some of them will be weak, some very strong indeed.

Remember, my dear: you do not need silly trappings. Your finest adornment is your own true voice. If you encounter doubt, simply ask, “What is this, truly? Will I wear it comfortably, or does it chafe as a poorly constructed garment?”

What is true will fit like the finest glove. What is not—you will know. Now that you are wise in the ways of the vampire, you will know.

And you will defeat him, dearest Lida. I know you are fearless when the need is great. You will not fail.

Please give my best regards to Ethelie, Gustav and dear Boggins. I do not know who this Beth person is, but if you tell me she is of fine quality, then I believe you. I should also tell you I have indeed done extensive research, and it seems I am of no relation to Miss Callista. I confess I am somewhat disappointed, since she is both brave and lovely, but I am content to share a name with this mysterious lady.

Until we meet again, my dear, I remain, faithfully yours.

- – - – - -

Stacey Cornelius writes about textbook-free marketing for creatives, and mindset that makes it great at thestudiosource.com, where she generally takes a somewhat less fanciful tone. You can also find her on Twitter @thestudiosource.

Here’s the thing about the Dance of Shiva: it can be as much fun as you want it . . . → Read More: Shiva Nata for Swingers]]>

This is a short video of me doing Level 1 Horizontals this afternoon.

Here’s the thing about the Dance of Shiva: it can be as much fun as you want it to be.

Today, my lovelies, I am thinking about systems.

Ethelie is terribly fond of lists and priorities and stern consequences. Her lists — o, my darling, they are magnificent and mighty machines, with thousands of interlocking gears, each grinding inexorably along. Frankly, they terrify me, and when I have tried to use Ethelie’s systems, I’ve found myself weeping in the arms of my evening’s companion, instead of frolicking. There was simply no way to live up . . . → Read More: Clear the Decks Friday: Mr. Forster’s SuperFocus]]>

Darlings! Welcome to the sixth edition of Clear the Decks Friday, in which we work together to dispose of the bothersome tasks that otherwise encumber our writing life!

Today, my lovelies, I am thinking about systems.

Ethelie is terribly fond of lists and priorities and stern consequences. Her lists — o, my darling, they are magnificent and mighty machines, with thousands of interlocking gears, each grinding inexorably along. Frankly, they terrify me, and when I have tried to use Ethelie’s systems, I’ve found myself weeping in the arms of my evening’s companion, instead of frolicking. There was simply no way to live up to the dreadful expectations of that beastly machine.

Gustav, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. Why, he works entirely at random. Oh, he can call it synchronicity all he wants, but for me it feels like sheer chaos. While the uncertainty lends a certain vigour and briskness to the day, I find it altogether too, too unsettling.

Clearly, my darlings, one’s ideal approach to achieving all the goalsets is as unique as the individual! We are all precious, precious snowflakes!

Thus I was delighted to learn of Mr. Forster’s SuperFocus system, which offers a delightful blend of flexibility and structure. It seems ideal for a capricious creature such as myself.

Your turn!

Tell me, darlings, what system do you use?

And what will you be clearing from your decks today? Tell us below.

Darlings! What a dreary and wretched day today is!

Everything is horrid: the Hounds will not stop howling. The weather is utterly frigid and the Beastmaster feared that the Kraken’s pond might freeze solid, so now the Kraken is lurking sullenly in the largest bathing tub in the Directorate. I have not performed my ablutions for days, darlings, and fear I am quite sticky and feral. My most promising writer had a dreadful relapse and has not written a word for days; he has been turned over to the tender ministries of the Plot Spiders, and all my marvelous . . . → Read More: Clear the Decks Friday: What Went Right?]]>

A Shameful Harlot

Darlings! What a dreary and wretched day today is!

Everything is horrid: the Hounds will not stop howling. The weather is utterly frigid and the Beastmaster feared that the Kraken’s pond might freeze solid, so now the Kraken is lurking sullenly in the largest bathing tub in the Directorate. I have not performed my ablutions for days, darlings, and fear I am quite sticky and feral. My most promising writer had a dreadful relapse and has not written a word for days; he has been turned over to the tender ministries of the Plot Spiders, and all my marvelous plans for encouraging him are for naught.

All is despair, my darlings, all is lost, all is gray. Only the tantalizing thought of talking to you lured me out of my bed so early in the afternoon.

Let us turn this bastardly day around, shall we? If all is horrid, let us focus on the opposite, and find all the things that have gone right today. Our minds observe the atrocious without difficulty, and thus convince ourselves that all is foul. How much harder — yet more felicitous — would it be to simply spot the successes? I do not suggest that we ignore the horrors of the day — there is no practical way to ignore a Kraken in one’s bathtub. The things that have gone horrid will certainly present themselves without our effort. However, things that have gone right prove more elusive; and it is up to us to search them out. If we can find enough of them, perhaps we can avoid tumbling into the magotty abyss of despair.

I shall start! I shall find even the tiniest of victories, and celebrate them. Celebrate with me, my loves!

Lida’s Lovely List

1. I found a way to avoid wrecking the ship of the day on the rocky shoals of despair. Hooray!

2. The Plot Spider, well-fed, will not wander the halls of the Directorate tonight in search of other prey; she will be quite sated.

3. As am I.

4. I had a marvelous sandwich for lunch today; Gustav baked fresh bread.

5.  I have finished this blog post; now Ethelie will not frown at me quite so sternly.

Your Turn

What can you find that has gone right today? Tell us and celebrate; and return to announce subsequent successes. Darlings, you will be positively radiant.

I feel I should apologize for not getting this post up sooner so that all you early-birds might benefit from it; but I’m afraid I was busy with some terribly important sleeping-in. Scrumptious! But alas, the delightful parts of my day have finished, and I have no choice but to turn my attention to my dreary List of Loathsome Labours.

Of course they’re loathsome; I’ve been putting them off all week, and for very good reason. All are difficult or dull or dastardly or annoyingly alliterative; the very thought of them causes me to turn . . . → Read More: Clear the Decks Friday: Less Loathsome Lists]]>

Darlings! Is it Friday again? How delicious.

I feel I should apologize for not getting this post up sooner so that all you early-birds might benefit from it; but I’m afraid I was busy with some terribly important sleeping-in. Scrumptious! But alas, the delightful parts of my day have finished, and I have no choice but to turn my attention to my dreary List of Loathsome Labours.

Of course they’re loathsome; I’ve been putting them off all week, and for very good reason. All are difficult or dull or dastardly or annoyingly alliterative; the very thought of them causes me to turn my mind from the Loathsome List and seek diversions. Why, I haven’t visited my taxidermist, or his charming wife, in over a fortnight!

But no. Such pleasures must be deferred until my Labours have been completed, lest I suffer Ethelie’s direst consequences.

My Favorite Remedy

Make the list itself less loathsome, darlings! How much more felicitous is it to be guided by a graceful graphic than to be shouted at by a stern and uncompromisingly grim List?

It seems to be a bit of foolishness, I know–how could a simple thing like the appearance of your list affect you?

Darling, how could it not? Do you not judge people and things by their appearance? Do you not find one young maiden alluring and enticing because of the graceful curve of her cheek and the way her gown hugs her bodice, yet find another maiden repulsive because of her slatternly attire and coarse hair? At the greengrocers, do you not choose one apple rather than another because of its firm flesh and glossy sheen?

Of course you do, darlings, of course you do. So why not give your list a less loathsome appearance? A simple make-over may be all your list needs to be transformed from loathsome to alluring.

• Perhaps writing your tasks with a fountain pen on lovely paper would do the trick;
• or perhaps scribbling each on a brightly-colored square of paper, arranged beautifully on the wall before you, would work.
• Fold an origami swan, and write a task upon each plane.
• Draw an octopus (what clever beasts!) and write a task upon each leg.

Let your imagination run loose, my lovelies! What can you do with brilliant markers, soft yarns, rich papers, flowing inks, and body chocolate? Mmm, I know just the thing.

I am sure you can create an amazing list. Tell me about it below? What’s on your list today — and how will you make it lovely?

Darlings! Last week’s Clearing of the Decks was so deliciously invigorating that I volunteered to lead this week’s.  I’m thrilled!

I have a huge mountain of work that I’ve been avoiding recently. It began as the kind of perfectly ordinary avoidance where I didn’t even remember the job until it was far too late in the evening and I was already ensconced in my cozy zeppelin with a burly admirer (or two) and a bottle (or two) of champagne, conditions under which performing my Directorate duties would clearly be implausible, if not impossible.

Then I remembered the work, and . . . → Read More: Clear The Decks Friday: One Tiny Step]]>

Lida

Darlings! Last week’s Clearing of the Decks was so deliciously invigorating that I volunteered to lead this week’s.  I’m thrilled!

I have a huge mountain of work that I’ve been avoiding recently. It began as the kind of perfectly ordinary avoidance where I didn’t even remember the job until it was far too late in the evening and I was already ensconced in my cozy zeppelin with a burly admirer (or two) and a bottle (or two) of champagne, conditions under which performing my Directorate duties would clearly be implausible, if not impossible.

The Cycle of Shame

Then I remembered the work, and groaned, and flung myself even more deeply into the arms of my companion to help distract me from the shame of my neglect.

The next day, consumed by guilt, even further behind, utterly overshadowed by the mountain of work, I leapt even more eagerly into diversionary shenanigans. And thus I got even further behind, and even less willing to perform my duties.

Darlings, it is a hideous cycle. (Please do not tell Ethelie. She will frown so sternly!)

Tiny Steps

Today, I shall stand bravely before the mountain, and find the tiniest of first steps. And then, my darlings, my sweetest friends, with the benefit of your companionship, I will take that step.

O, I know I will not climb the mountain by taking this tiny step; and the thought of how many steps I will have to take fills my breast with terror! But I know that taking this tiny step is better than taking no steps at all. I know that I must begin somewhere.

Once I have taken that step, I shall find another tiny step, and take it. And then another, and another. I shall get more traction with each step, and soon I’ll be gamboling up the Mountain, carefree as a lark.

Doesn’t that sound wonderful?

Join me! What tiny, tiny step might you take toward your own Mountain of work? Tell us below! Identify your tiny step; then take it; then celebrate your progress with us. I have a bottle of champagne on ice, just waiting to celebrate your triumph.

Last week, I introduced you to Shiva Nata. Now it’s time to tell you the most important part: it’s all about doing it wrong.

It’s not just ok to make mistakes when doing Shiva Nata. It’s required.

It’s a strange concept; generally, we’re taught to do well and to succeed. When failure is acceptable at all – and so often it is not – it’s only in the service of learning to do better. “Babies fall down all the time while they’re learning to walk,” we’re told, “so it’s ok if you screw up a lot while you’re learning a new skill. . . . → Read More: Shiva Nata: To Failure and Beyond]]>

Beth

Last week, I introduced you to Shiva Nata. Now it’s time to tell you the most important part: it’s all about doing it wrong.

It’s not just ok to make mistakes when doing Shiva Nata. It’s required.

What?

It’s a strange concept; generally, we’re taught to do well and to succeed. When failure is acceptable at all – and so often it is not – it’s only in the service of learning to do better. “Babies fall down all the time while they’re learning to walk,” we’re told, “so it’s ok if you screw up a lot while you’re learning a new skill. Keep at it and you’ll be great.” Or we’re encouraged to fail faster, so that we can learn from our errors and succeed faster. “Write a bunch of flash fiction stories – they’re short, so you’ll learn how to solve your fiction problems more quickly than by writing a novel.” Or we’re encouraged to risk failure, because the best stories come from the darkest spots of our hearts, not the safest.

True enough.

But Shiva nata is different. You get the results not by succeeding, but by failing. That’s because it’s about tearing down old patterns and creating new ones. For example, perhaps you’ve learned the Level 1 Horizontal sequence. Great! You’ve learned something and it’s safe and comfortable. Now it’s time to tear that pattern down. You need to make it harder, to the point of failure, and beyond.

Once you reach that point, something amazing happens: your mind stops clinging to that old pattern so desperately. It falls silent. In that delicate, blissful silence, you can see new patterns and new connections. You can build new patterns on the ashes of the old. All that juicy tearing down and building up again simply doesn’t happen if you stay comfortably in the same patterns.

But that’s hard!

Yes, it is. So’s writing. So’s life. But it’s also rich and fun and hilarious.

It never stops, either. Learning more about Shiva Nata just means you have to work harder to confuse yourself and fail miserably. The uncoordinated newcomers are the luckiest practitioners, because mistakes come so easily!

How is this good for writers?

Aside from all the marvelous insights you can get into your patterns about writing, and the patterns in your stories, it’s also excellent training in not fearing failure. All the stuff above about failing faster, and not being afraid to fall down while you’re learning to walk? That’s all wise and true – and just think about how much easier it will be to take advice like that after you’ve spent some time failing horribly in your regular Shiva Nata practice.

It teaches you that you don’t need to be afraid to fail.

You may even start viewing the “failures” of rejections, of stories not living up to your hopes for them, of not writing as much or as often or as well as you want, simply as information about your writing and yourself, instead of as soul-destroying failures.

OK, How?

There are lots of ways to fail at Shiva Nata! Try these ways; but if they’re not enough, experiment and find more ways of your own.

• Go faster.
• Go up a level.
• Go slower, but maintain perfect awareness.
• Synchronize the movements with music.
• Substitute words for the numbers. (Try colors – instead of 1-2-3-4, try Red-Blue-Yellow-Green. Or try writing words: Character-Plot-Setting-Voice.)
• Close your eyes.
• Coordinate your breathing with the movements.
• Change the style: if you are usually very precise, try being sloppy; if you’re usually very fluid, try moving with military precision.

Your Turn

So, what do you think about failure? Tell us in the comments.

In the Bible, after some dramatics with a wind strong enough to break rocks, a terrible earthquake, and a mighty fire, God finally takes his audience into consideration speaks to the prophet Elijah in a “still small voice.”

We all have a still small voice that speaks to us, I believe. Though perhaps only biblical prophets hear the voice of their God, everyone can hear something, if they are quiet enough. Have you listened? You may need to listen carefully to hear what whispers behind your customarily raucous thoughts. Some things make it easier to . . . → Read More: Concerning the Still Small Voice]]>

Darlings! It is time for us to talk.

In the Bible, after some dramatics with a wind strong enough to break rocks, a terrible earthquake, and a mighty fire, God finally takes his audience into consideration speaks to the prophet Elijah in a “still small voice.”

We all have a still small voice that speaks to us, I believe. Though perhaps only biblical prophets hear the voice of their God, everyone can hear something, if they are quiet enough. Have you listened? You may need to listen carefully to hear what whispers behind your customarily raucous thoughts. Some things make it easier to hear this voice: physical exertion, yogic breathing practices, meditation, and laudanum among them. Experiment: can you hear it? What does it say?

The first time I tried this exercise, I was startled by what I learned.

My Still Small Voice was Screaming.

It was remarkably similar to this:

Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Why couldn’t I be lucky enough to hear the voice of God directing me to anoint Elisha as a prophet? Why just this terrible screaming?

No wonder I had such difficulty writing: who could hear the words over that terrible cry? Who could concentrate? No wonder I flung myself into so many diversions instead of writing: the theater, the saloons, the licentious behavior, the torrid affair with the baker who supplied my pies, the reckless zeppelin-driving. It all became stunningly clear: I was trying to keep myself so busy that I did not have to hear the voice.

I do not wish to give the impression that all was despair, for on other occasions, I discovered that my still small voice was humming cheerful jingles for patent remedies and tonics, or muttering tongue-twisters repeatedly.

What To Do About the Screaming?

Comfort, darlings, comfort. If your still small voice is screaming, comfort it. Clasp it to your bosom and rock it gently, sing it sweet songs, bathe it with your sympathy and warmth. Feed it sweets and treats and assure it you adore it.

Do not chastise it for disturbing you with its wails; do not tell it how stupid it is for being upset; do not feed it to the Verbhounds. Simply comfort it.

You may also find that you can briefly silence the voice by turning down the volume, as on a Victrola; but this silence is only momentary. Much better that you take a few moments to soothe the teething beast.

And then get back to work.

Once the sobs have tapered off to sniffles, give it one final hug, and return to your  work.

Subsiste statim sermonem et scribe.

What does your still small voice say, Darlings? Tell us in the comments, if you so desire.

May I ask how your writing is progressing? Is it flowing along deliciously, like a river of chocolate that rewards you with sweetness every time you dip into it? Does it, like a river, carry you along, displaying magnificent new vistas around each bend? Does your writing, like a river, lull you to sleep each night with the sound of its gentle flow and the wind amidst the rushes? Ah, what bliss! You, my darling, are the luckiest of writers.

But I am afraid this post is not for you.

Today I write to all the other writers: those who are . . . → Read More: An Exhortation: On Your Terrible Shame]]>

O Brave Writers!

May I ask how your writing is progressing? Is it flowing along deliciously, like a river of chocolate that rewards you with sweetness every time you dip into it? Does it, like a river, carry you along, displaying magnificent new vistas around each bend? Does your writing, like a river, lull you to sleep each night with the sound of its gentle flow and the wind amidst the rushes? Ah, what bliss! You, my darling, are the luckiest of writers.

But I am afraid this post is not for you.

Today I write to all the other writers: those who are mired in the muck at the bank of the river, who feel the mud seeping into their shoes, who struggle daily to find the courage to scribble down some words.

Have you failed lately, my darling?

Have you not written enough words? Have you not written as often as you would like? Have those words you’ve managed been horrifyingly amateurish? Has your work been rejected? Have you disappointed others? Have you disappointed yourself?

Please take a moment to consider how you feel, my beauty. Not very good, I suspect; I sense that you are overflowing with shame and regret and despair. Perhaps you are even so burdened by these terrors that you find it hard to write: as if each key on your type-writing machine were weighted with brass; as if each page in your note-book were covered with foetid and stinking black slime; as if each shining idea was frozen in a block of sewage.

Writing is hard enough, you think; but it is impossible to write like this, with this vasty ocean between you and your words, an ocean filled with boiling blood and shards of glass and betentacled horrors, where tar rains down from a leaden sky, and all is lost, all is lost.

My sweets, let me reassure you that this is normal, and that you feel thus does not indicate that you’re misguided and doomed to failure. Nay! It simply means you’re human, and that your writing is so precious to you that you must protect it from all these horrors: from the tar and slime and weight and boiling blood and shattered glass.

I can help.

I am no stranger to shame, my darlings. I am excruciatingly familiar with the territory I describe, from long personal experience. Let me guide you out of this atrocious wasteland, and back to the sweetly flowing river of your writing.

The first step is to recognize your feelings of shame and despair.

The second step is to acknowledge them. My darling, no wonder you feel so horrid! Your feelings are perfectly natural. Reassure yourself of this; do not increase your anguish by struggling against them.

Finally, release them. Shout them down the sewer, blow them into bubbles and pop them, light them on fire and watch them burn away. Ahhhh, delicious, isn’t it? How do you feel now? Isn’t it quite difficult enough to write, without having to deal with all those extra layers of slime and wrongness?

Introducing the Shame Bucket

My favorite way to release my most dreadful feelings is to use the Fiction-Writing Directorate’s Shame Bucket. Simply write the feelings you wish to release into the form below, and click Submit. It’s utterly anonymous, darling, and I’ll delete your submission without reading it. No one will ever see what you say. I certainly won’t let stern Ethelie or strange Gustav read them.

Write it out, darlings. Release it.

Comments are closed on this post, lest someone inadvertantly place their secret shame in the wrong space!

Be Utterly Shameless

Now, my darlings, return to your writing, and be shameless.