tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50300013888987259182024-02-06T21:53:54.431-05:00Jennifer R. HubbardWriterJennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-80757499604406505562023-01-17T14:46:00.002-05:002023-01-17T14:46:37.224-05:00Expect the unexpected<p><span style="color: #444444;"> In the oral history <i>We Killed: The Rise of Women in American Comedy</i> (Yael Kohen), Anjelah Johnson (now Anjelah Johnson-Reyes) describes how the year 2007 went for her. She'd gotten onto a TV show that was canceled; she had no money. And then a video of one of her jokes went viral, and she got a new manager, a new agent, and a role on a TV show. Eventually she was laid off from that show, but she continued with stand-up comedy.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Reading that, I thought, Wow, what a cycle! And it also reminded me of stories I've heard of some writers' careers, in terms of sudden advances and sudden reversals, and highs and lows, and unpredictability.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">There's Neal Pollack's story, and <a href="https://www.avclub.com/neal-pollack-on-rebounding-from-massive-hype-and-six-fi-1798236876">this interview</a> in which he talks about the umpteen times when he thought he had finally hit the big time, only to find it was hard to stay on the summit of any mountain in the publishing world. And how came to conclude this: "I spent a lot of years trying to turn myself into a brand because they
told us self-branding is a way to success. And I kind of believed the
hype. It’s just not true." </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Fame is fickle, and success in the arts is wildly unpredictable. We've all heard this. We all know this. But in the back of our minds is the idea that there will be a moment when we've "made it," a time when we achieve a sustainable level of success.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">And many do, which keeps that dream alive. But I suspect it's far more common to experience waves of gain and loss and near-gain. It's also possible to decide that one has had enough of that--of publishing, if not of writing.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">In 2020 I tried to publish an article updating the careers of several authors whose debut novels had appeared 10 years earlier, showing where their paths had taken them in that decade. Some were still writing; some weren't. All were doing interesting things with their lives. I had no takers from the writers' magazines and websites, which I still think is a shame, as this is exactly the kind of information that I, as an aspiring and later a newly-published author, wanted myself. What could I expect, realistically? </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">If I were to answer that question now, I would say: Expect to be surprised. Expect change. Allow yourself to change what you want. And as much as possible, enjoy the ride.</span><br /></p><p><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-32963427981324016722022-08-20T17:00:00.003-04:002022-08-20T17:01:45.498-04:00As the world changes<p> <span style="color: #444444;">Many writers have had a difficult time writing during the pandemic. It's not surprising, really, between the anxiety and uncertainty, the disruption in schedules, and wondering how ongoing plots and settings would be affected by this turn in history.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Others dug into their manuscripts because they had more time or space, or fewer distractions, or needed the escape. The two manuscripts I worked on the most during this time barely mentioned the pandemic--especially the one that occurred mostly during the 1980s!</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">We are still reckoning with COVID19. So much of what we've been through in the past two years, we haven't yet been able to process and put into perspective. And there is still uncertainty ahead. I remember a similar reckoning after 9/11. Not only did we have to rewrite the landscape of New York, DC, Pennsylvania; not only did we wonder what might be next (anthrax, it turned out); not only were there new airport procedures and building-security rules; most of all, we had to look at how these events affected our mindsets, viewpoints, memories, plans.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Things are always changing. But sometimes they change more suddenly, and it takes a while to absorb the new world.</span></p><p><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-64505347554478748612021-12-21T13:09:00.002-05:002021-12-21T13:09:43.805-05:00Good wishes<p> <span style="color: #444444;">As we wind down toward the end of another year and the beginning of a new one, here is what I wish for us:</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">-an end to this pandemic!</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">-healing and happiness</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">-good books</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">-a few pleasant surprises</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">-peace</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">-new friends</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">-an adventure or two</span></p><p><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-80956977099789201312021-10-24T15:48:00.003-04:002021-10-24T15:48:51.299-04:00Typical writing session<p><span style="color: #444444;">Buckle your seatbelts for a fascinating look into a typical writing session! (Be warned: I may be employing the word "fascinating" rather loosely.) This is how I spent my morning:<br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Opened the file and found the scene I was revising. Edited a few lines.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Paused. Something about this scene, and the section of dialogue I was facing, bothered me. But what?</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Thought about it. Could not figure it out.<br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Played some computer solitaire.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Realized what bothered me about the scene and what I wanted to do about it. Cut out the sentences that were opening a tangent that felt wrong for these characters. Reworked a few paragraphs.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Filled in some character names where I had previously just used initials. (I often refer to characters by initials in a first draft, before I know what their names are.)</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Reached the next scene. Made some fussy little edits. Got to a part where a character is supposedly quoting <i>Oliver Twist</i>. I had done this from memory, not sure if the language in question was, in fact, from <i>Oliver Twist</i>. Spent an inordinate amount of time looking through <i>Oliver Twist</i>, having thoughts about workhouses and social safety nets, the marvelous depiction of the Dodger and Charley and Sikes, the offensive cringe-worthy depiction of Fagin, the way that Oliver disappears partway through the book, ceding the plot to Bill and Nancy, and ... remembered I was supposed to be writing my own book.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Not finding what I was looking for, deleted the reference to <i>Oliver Twist</i> and reworked that paragraph.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Spent some time debating just how far a certain romantic relationship should progress. Realized actual scenes will be needed to explain why these two characters like each other as much as they do. Wrote myself a note to add such scenes.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Cut out some repetitive language.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Resolved a minor plot inconsistency.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Marked where I wanted to stop for the day, then read ahead to see which scenes are coming next.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">This process may be meandering, inefficient, and slow, but it gets me there eventually. It would be nice if the perfect words came quickly and surely, but they seem to prefer to percolate up from the depths of my mind, inch by inch. </span><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-88884296725261251062021-07-04T20:00:00.002-04:002021-07-04T20:00:39.100-04:00Rereading and weeding<p><span style="color: #444444;">In my last post, I talked about whittling the to-be-read pile of books. This weekend I've been dealing with the already-read books.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Because I reread books, I keep them for a long time. This has resulted in a collection of a few hundred. And over time, I've noticed that some old favorites have dropped out of my rereading habit. Maybe I've read them enough. Maybe my view of them has changed. Maybe I'm in a phase of life where I need something different from books than I used to.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">So I've been letting go of some books that I once cherished. They have been succeeded by newer favorites. I once thought a favorite book would be a favorite for life--and for some books that's been true, at least as far as midlife. But for others, not so much.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">A book doesn't have to be a favorite for me to want to reread it. I also own some books that I've read once and want to read again, but I think one or two more reads will do it for me. Then I'll want to let them go. </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">For most books, my favorite reading pass is the second one. The book is still fresh enough to delight--and even to surprise with the things I've forgotten--but familiar enough that I have less anxiety over how the plot will go, and I can notice all sorts of details I might've missed before. These include foreshadowing, symbolism, and the fates and concerns of secondary characters. </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Happy reading. Or rereading, as the case may be. </span><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-83349838998821319782021-04-04T16:50:00.002-04:002021-04-04T16:50:53.463-04:00Whittling the book pile<p><span style="color: #444444;">When the pandemic first hit last year, my local library shut down for a few months. While I missed it, and I am very glad it has since resumed online reservations and curbside pickup, I knew I wouldn't lack for reading material in the meantime.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Aside from being a re-reader, one who's happy to dip into my collection of shelved books over and over, I also had That Pile. You may know the one; you may have your own version of it. The pile of books picked up here and there--at sales, book swaps, and so forth, or maybe received as gifts. For me, they're books I want to read, or at least wanted to when I first got them, but wasn't in the mood for right then. Or at any time since, though I believed the right mood would eventually arrive. That pile's existence never stopped me from acquiring new books, most of which I read before dipping into the older pile.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Over the past few years, as I've made a conscious effort to declutter, I finally faced the pile. I was even able to slowly dent it. But 2020 would be my chance to make real progress, I thought.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">I'm not sure how many books were in that pile when I first started decluttering--maybe 50? Definitely more than 30. It wasn't even really "a" pile, but a few stacks. </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">I'm happy to report that the pile is now down to eight books.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">I made progress in three ways. One was by facing the fact that I was just never going to read some of them, and I let them go to better homes. For book cherishers, this action can seem impossible at first, but it got easier the more I did it. For the remaining books, I decided that their reading time had come! It was easier to pick up one of these long-unread books if I reminded myself that I could always put it down if I didn't like it after all. (After years of compulsively finishing books whether I wanted to or not, I've reached the point of allowing myself to abandon a book that isn't working for me. Life is short, and there are plenty of books out there.)<br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">The other way I shrunk this pile was by making an effort not to add to it. To bring home only books that I wanted to read soon. Part of my decluttering involves keeping a list of new items that I bring into the house. I don't track perishables like groceries and toiletries, but only things that are meant to hang around for a long time, and that includes books (though not library books, which of course rotate in and out quickly). I don't have any special rules about numbers of items I want to acquire or get rid of. I don't have a one-in, one-out rule. The only reason I made the list was to be more mindful of what I get, to be more aware of what I acquire, to make sure I really want or need it. And that has been happening. I'm not reading fewer books; I'm just storing fewer unread ones.<br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;"></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Happy reading, whether you're tackling a new book or a not-so-new one! <br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-15222053677906742912021-01-31T15:35:00.001-05:002021-01-31T15:35:05.223-05:00Small goals, and one thing Twitter is good for<p><span style="color: #444444;">A few years ago, when I was in a writing slump, I decided to set some very small, manageable goals. Goals that would be fun rather than onerous. One was to write at least 100 words a day in my journal. They didn't have to be special words, good words, interesting words. The point was just to keep my writing habit going, and to set such a low-pressure goal that anxiety and judgment and other obstacles couldn't get in the way. </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">The other was to participate in <i>Creative Nonfiction</i>'s #cnftweet challenge once a week. The challenge is to tell a true story in one tweet, including the hashtag #cnftweet. The<i> Creative Nonfiction</i> magazine publishes selected tweets in its newsletter and magazine. For me publication was a bonus but not the primary goal; for me the writing itself was the main thing. I'd been veering more and more toward nonfiction, and I have always loved flash and micro lengths, so this was a timely exercise. I also enjoy reading the other cnftweeters' contributions; it has become a sort of loosely defined, fluid online community. And it was a thrill to have several of my tweets make it into issues of the magazine.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">With the #cnftweets, unlike with my journal, I did concentrate on quality, seeking the telling detail, the vivid image, the apt turn of phrase. I see a micro story as one that delivers a specific concrete image but suggests a much larger story beyond the frame. And if it produces a laugh or a gasp as well, so much the better. </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">My goal has been to come up with two #cnftweets per week, but I don't let myself agonize over this. Sometimes I've done three or more, sometimes one, sometimes none. I also don't agonize over the responses. I'm always delighted when others like them, but you don't always know what will strike a chord. I suspect every regular cnftweeter has had a carefully crafted tweet, one that makes them proud, draw few likes, while another tweet they'd thought of as almost a throwaway, the tweet they almost deleted, gets wild applause. <br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">From these two practices, I regrew my writing habit. I have indeed written more and more nonfiction in recent years, although I've also been working on a long fiction project. The most important thing these practices did was to reconnect me with the joy of writing, the stability of having a steady flow of words. The words themselves sometimes snap and leap with life, and other times lie there limp with triteness, but that's the way the way writing goes. Finding the flow was what mattered.</span><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-25919998132737871762021-01-03T13:17:00.000-05:002021-01-03T13:17:03.012-05:00Subject to change<p><span style="color: #444444;">Last year at this time, I would venture to say, most of us had no idea how the year would unfold. That's always true, but the up-ending of the world in 2020 hammered home that message with extra emphasis.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Standing on the threshold of a new year, we don't know how unpredictability will play out this time around. We may have hopes and goals and plans. All of it is subject to change. So we sketch out the plans, and hope that more of 2021's surprises will be of the pleasant kind, and hope for the strength to deal with whatever arises. It's good enough for now.</span><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-63025827253023092722020-11-29T14:27:00.000-05:002020-11-29T14:27:03.093-05:00Grateful for books<p><span style="color: #444444;">I've always been thankful for books, but this year I am especially so, since travel this year has been confined to the imagination. At times I've needed books that reflect what it's like to live through an epidemic (<i>Body Counts</i>, Sean Strub) or cope with grief and loss (<i>When Death Takes Something from You, Give it Back</i>, Naja Marie Aidt) or live in a bitterly divided world (WWI Europe, in the case of <i>Alone Against Gravity</i>, Thomas de Padova; WWII Europe, in the case of <i>Lilac Girls</i>, Martha Hall Kelly). </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">At other times, I've needed books that transport me to completely different experiences: good old <i>Emma</i> (Jane Austen) or shiny new fantasy (<i>Star Daughter</i>, Shveta Thakrar) or 1990s radio (<i>Radio On</i>, Sarah Vowell). I've delved into the writerly journals and correspondence of Sylvia Plath and May Sarton, and the poetry of Joy Harjo and Morgan Parker. I "moved" to Bolivia with William Powers and his family (<i>Dispatches from the Sweet Life</i>) and into the American desert with Ben Ehrenreich (<i>Desert Notebooks</i>) and into <i>The House on Mango Stree</i>t with Sandra Cisneros.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">And that's just a sampling. Thanks to curbside library pickup, rereads from my own shelves, and the miracle of mail order, I've been able to keep my pandemic-shrunken world wide and varied, to keep my mind exercised. I hope you have also found books to keep you comforted or challenged--and if you write, to remind you why your work is important.</span><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-46392833988054459022020-10-12T15:42:00.003-04:002020-10-12T15:46:46.464-04:00When the path gets rocky<p><span style="color: #444444;">One thing I like about reading authors' diaries--maybe the main thing--is how they honestly reflect the difficulties, the ups and downs, of the writing life. There are days when everything clicks and the words flow. There are days when acceptances pop into the mailbox. But there are also many days of self-doubt, emptiness, stuck-ness. Days when a good idea just won't come, or an idea that seemed good the day before now looks pitiful. </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">It's reassuring to remember that's all part of the process. If it doesn't feel like magic and moonbeams every moment, that doesn't mean we're doing it wrong. Plenty of writers have gone before us, acknowledging that the path can be rocky. If we trip over the occasional rock or wander off into the nettles, at least we're in good company. </span><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-37673802050609548742020-08-30T13:07:00.003-04:002020-08-30T13:07:33.745-04:00Pastimes for the present time<p><span style="color: #444444;">The pandemic has sped up time for some of us, slowed it down for others. I've experienced both. Spring lasted forever, but the summer is passing in an eye-blink.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">I'm working more hours, but I have fewer options for my downtime. I still walk and hike, though I have fewer options for where to do it. My library closed for weeks, and the new reservation and curbside pickup process is a bit slower, though I'm profoundly grateful it exists at all. In any case, I did have a great excuse to delve into my TBR pile--the books that I've accumulated but then was never in the right frame of mind to read. </span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">One of those books is an art book, picked up dirt-cheap secondhand. I had thought, when I got it a few years back, that I might use it for writing prompts. But it was only a couple of weeks ago that I finally opened it.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">Each painting in it encourages me to slow down, to study line and form and color, to think about the story it's telling. It encourages mindfulness, this stopping to focus on what's in front of me.</span></p><p><span style="color: #444444;">I suspect that gardening, puzzles, and baking may be serving similar function for many: a tangible object or process with which to interact in the moment. Writing can take us deeper into this world, or it can take us deeper into other worlds. Yet sometimes we want to set it aside for paintbrush or rake or dough. Especially when the future looks uncertain, we concentrate on the present moment.</span></p><p><br /></p>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-6400240116885777802020-07-04T17:22:00.000-04:002020-07-04T17:22:03.283-04:00Recording the details<span style="color: #444444;">As I look back on old diary entries, I wish I had spent more time recording the mundane details of my daily life and less analyzing every nuance of my angstier moments. I seem to recall the writer David Sedaris saying something similar about the journals he has kept.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">One problem is that we're so familiar with life as it is today, we often think of it as boring and not worth recording. And then living through extraordinary times such as this pandemic, we may not want to dwell on the details. We may think we'll never forget them.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">But even if COVID-19 permanently changes us, there will be details about this time that will grow hazy. Even if we end up covering our faces forever (and I hope we don't), will we remember what it was like to wear a mask for the first time? Will we recall the scramble to even find a mask, the experiments with old T-shirts and rubber bands? Will we forget the desperation over toilet paper? The evening cheers for frontline workers? The first person we knew with the virus, or the first symptoms in ourselves? Will we remember watching cases spread over maps with growing dread and fear? Will we remember how children played in yards for the first time in years, how they chalked the sidewalks with art? Will we remember the protests sparked by the death of George Floyd and so many others, the jolts of a country's long-delayed reckoning?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">We may want to write these things down. Whether for catharsis or for some future researcher, or as a link to our own future selves. I find so much in my earlier writings that I otherwise would have forgotten.</span>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-64066926361658325662020-05-17T16:33:00.003-04:002020-05-17T16:33:41.172-04:00Unpredictable<span style="color: #444444;">I never liked using real places or landmarks in my work, because I worried something might happen to them before the book could come out. The World Trade Center, the Old Man of the Mountain, Notre Dame cathedral--all forever changed, in a matter of hours, in ways unforeseen--served as my reminders that we never know. I preferred fictional stand-ins. But now the very atmosphere, the social practices, the ways people spend their days, are all totally changed in ways we couldn't foresee. </span><br />
<br /><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="color: #444444;">One difficult thing about writing
contemporary fiction at this time is that we don't know where this
pandemic will go, how things will unfold. It can take a year or two to
write a novel; traditional publishing can take a few years beyond that.
Even a fast writer, self-publishing, will likely take a few months at
least to get from concept to publication.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444;">So, should our characters wear masks? Will there be effective
treatments, and if so, when? What activities will still be off limits?
Will we return to semi-normal life or need another lockdown?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">It's tempting to give up and set a story in the recent past instead. Or even the distant past. Or an alternate reality. And those are certainly options.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">Or we can take the leap, and write based on where we are now, ever mindful of the reality of change ... and the ability to edit.</span>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-50977514425792022112020-04-05T19:07:00.002-04:002020-04-05T19:07:47.617-04:00One big story<span style="color: #444444;">What do you do when you are a writer and there only seems to be one story, one story that is the center of everyone's attention, one story that overshadows all others right now?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">Maybe you take notes, because you know this time is extraordinary, or because that's just how you deal with the best and worst of life. Writing is the way you make sense of the senseless pain in life. Writing is what reminds you of any small blessings you can find right now. Maybe writing is what brings you determination, or it's the way you process grief, or it's what gives you hope.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">Or maybe you don't dive into the one big story at all. You escape into another story altogether, far away from the one you are living on a daily basis. Maybe you find yourself as a reader welcoming stories that transport you, if only temporarily, away from this time and situation. Those other stories give you a perspective on the broad sweep of history, or they just give you the relief of visiting another world for a while. Maybe as a writer you vow to write such stories for the others who need a break from the one big story.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">Or maybe you don't write at all for a while. Your time is taken up with other things--illness, caregiving, tending the homefires, volunteering, working the day job at home or out there in a different world. Maybe you have the time, but you can't focus--you can't even write about the one big story, because you're too busy living it.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">We all cope the best we can. There's no one right answer--as with so much of writing. There's only what works for you right now. </span><br />
<br />
<br />Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-42854043445822210532020-03-08T17:23:00.001-04:002020-03-08T17:23:31.354-04:00Floundering and first drafts<span style="color: #444444;">In retrospect, a finished story can feel "meant to be." It's been honed and rewritten to the point that it seems as if it always was that way.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">When I reread early drafts, though, I'm surprised at how much floundering I did, how many wrong turns I took. Entire scenes, chapters, or subplots ended up on the cutting-room floor. Rounded, complex characters started out as flat cliches. That important plot twist--wasn't even there yet!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">A first draft can feel like a journey through unfamiliar territory with only a sketchy map (that would be the outline, which is subject to change or reinterpretation). Sometimes the words come slowly. Sometimes the previous day's work is an obvious derailment, and gets deleted. Sometimes one writes three pages and finds that the final paragraph of those three pages--<i>that's</i> where the real meat is. The rest was just throat-clearing. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">"Holy cow," the writer may say, in the thick of the first draft. "Was first drafting <i>always </i>this inefficient?"</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">Yes.</span>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-70132510849432275312020-02-17T12:39:00.001-05:002020-02-17T12:39:13.691-05:00When writers go silent<span style="color: #444444;">Ever notice that a favorite author hasn't published in a while? That the wait for the next book in a series is longer than expected? That you have no idea what they're up to, and even checking their social media doesn't give a clue?</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">It's very common for writers to go through "silent periods" where they're not publishing--or at least not publishing under the same name as previously. Before publication, it's tempting to think of crossing that threshold as entering a club with lifetime membership. And in some ways, it <i>is </i>lifetime membership--the work we've put into the world is out there for good now.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">But it can be dismaying to discover that staying published is often harder than getting published in the first place. Markets change; trends come and go; writers' interests change. Sometimes writers switch genres--either because of fiscal realities, new interests, or both. Sometimes they pick a new pen name to go with the switch.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">Other times a writer hits a block--burnout or self-doubt, for example. Or life may present situations that leave no time or energy for writing, such as illness, loss, care-giving for others, or the demands of a day job. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">Sometimes a writer just needs time to regroup, a long silent period for rejuvenation. A long silence may be followed by incredible new work, work that took a while to produce.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">Some writers turn to other things--different creative pursuits, for example. They find that music or quilting or sculpting or film-making satisfies the need that writing used to satisfy. They may go outside the arts to another field altogether.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">Some writers just keep writing, but no longer feel the need to reach a larger audience. They may be writing but not publishing.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">Whatever the situation, silences happen more often than I used to realize. In <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><a href="https://jenniferrhubbard.blogspot.com/2020/02/resting.html">my last post</a></span>, I said writers aren't machines, capable of ceaseless productivity. Silences, too, are part of life--even part of the writing life.</span>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-83625181507229442812020-02-02T16:24:00.001-05:002020-02-02T16:24:12.987-05:00Resting<span style="color: #444444;">I recently read <i>Twelve by Twelve</i>, in which William Powers described his time staying in a 12 x 12-foot cabin, seeking to reconnect with the environment and his neighbors, to live slowly. Among his musings were those gleaned from his international travels about how many other cultures value leisure--and live accordingly. He writes, "This 'leisure ethic,' as I've come to dub it, isn't laziness; it is an intelligent, holistic balance between doing and being."</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">This is something I've sought and struggled to express for years, as when making New Year's resolution after New Year's resolution to "do less." </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">More and more, I believe that much of what we call procrastination or wasting time is simply this badly-needed leisure time. Procrastination can also be simply delaying a task we dread, but that's another matter. I'm speaking here of the goofing off we do, the games we indulge in, the idle chitchat. We need down time--some for fun, some to reconnect with our surroundings and the people we love, some to stare at the world and let our brains rest. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">We're not machines, and we need not be outwardly productive every waking second. The work we produce is fed by our rest and recreation, but rest and recreation are also valuable in themselves. We need to relax; we need some joy. Most of our lives don't afford us enough chances to do this. So it's okay to embrace it wherever we can find it, okay not to apologize or scramble frantically to compensate for it.</span>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-62167723736224755722020-01-01T11:51:00.000-05:002020-01-01T11:51:10.419-05:00Opening a time capsule<span style="color: #444444;">In 2010, my first novel was published. I made a time capsule that year, to be opened on January 1, 2020. Which is today.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">Here are a few highlights from past me musing on the future that has become the present (if you can follow that):</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">"Will everyone just do everything by computer in 2020? Will cash money disappear?" While the digitization of everything has continued, cash is still around. For now.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">"I hope that by 2020, I have several more books published." I don't know if three more, for a total of four, constitutes "several," but I can't complain.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">"I worry that bookstores and libraries will disappear, and that everyone will expect to get stories online, for free." Not yet. So far, bookstores and libraries are making the most of the fact that they do more for communities than just supply reading material. (I'm thankful that they still supply reading material, too.) But people read more and more on screens, and writers still have that age-old problem of how to make a living writing. </span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">"I hope to keep hiking and traveling." Check.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">"I hope that by 2020, I have been to Japan, and maybe Hawaii, or back to Europe, as well as seeing more of the US." Check to all of that, except Japan.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">"I also hope to find more balance in my life." Ha! Dream on.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">"I hope environmental problems haven't become too devastating, especially global warming." Again, dream on.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">"I hope the world is more peaceful ..." Sigh.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">I can't imagine what 2030 will bring. Hey, I can't even imagine what the rest of <i>this year</i> will bring. I do know my interests have shifted farther from my personal ambitions and toward the health and welfare of the world more generally. I know I'm comfortable with a lot more uncertainty than I used to be, although I'm still more into planning than spontaneity.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">I wish you all well, whatever this year and this decade bring us. </span><br />
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<br />Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-14195834958658433362019-11-01T15:37:00.002-04:002019-11-01T15:37:44.247-04:00Jigsaw puzzles and writing<span style="color: #444444;">One of the many cool features of my local library is that they now always have a jigsaw puzzle going, and they have puzzles you can borrow (and you can donate your own old puzzles if you're looking to declutter). </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">Whenever I do a jigsaw, I always think of this passage from Louise Fitzhugh's <i>The Long Secret</i>: "She found a piece of the puzzle that fitted and felt a resounding satisfaction. How silly, she thought, that that should make me feel so good; that a piece of cardboard cut out of another piece of cardboard and then fitted back in should make a person feel so good."</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">There are plenty of theories about why it feels so good: that human beings like accomplishing things, solving problems, unraveling mysteries, finding patterns. Mostly what I like about jigsaws is the meditative quality of sorting the pieces and trying to fit them together. It's a very peaceful, calming thing to do, and the bigger the puzzle, the more patience it requires.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">Jigsaw puzzles have that in common with writing. In fact, I was thinking that writing a book is like putting together a huge puzzle, which has some pieces from other puzzles mixed in. You hunt out the edge pieces first (the outline, if you will) and you have a sense of what the final product is supposed to look like, but in the beginning it's daunting and can be hard to know where to start. Where do all these pink pieces go? Should I work on the water or the sky? Does this blue piece belong to the water or the sky? What are these cream-colored squiggles? Is this piece ever going to fit <i>anywhere</i>? Oops--this section I've been working on doesn't even belong here; it's part of another puzzle!</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">As more and more of it comes together, it gets easier to know what goes where. The picture gets clearer and clearer. We fit it together piece by piece, the way we build a story word by word. What started out as chaos has become an organized, cohesive whole.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">With puzzles, we're just reassembling what was originally whole--while theoretically, stories are new creations. But I swear that for me, stories feel more like puzzles. Writing feels more as if I'm discovering something--something that exists already in some shadowy depths of my mind, which must be fished out piece by piece and assembled in the light.</span><br />
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<br />Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-11433412064261116382019-10-13T17:29:00.000-04:002019-10-13T17:29:03.474-04:00Joining the conversation<span style="color: #444444;">One of the best things about publishing is what I think of as "joining the conversation." So many times, as a young reader, I would converse with a book's characters, or with my conception of the writer, in my mind. So many times I wanted to ask, "Why did the story go there?" or "What's that based on?" or say, "Here's what I took from that," or, "Here's where I wished that would go."</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">Writing can bring us in touch with ourselves, and often that's enough. But when we share our poetry at the local open mic, or carry on a correspondence, or publish something that finds a wider audience, the resulting dialogues are special too. As readers and as writers, we talk about themes and trends, about language, about history and politics, creativity and imagination, hopes and dreams, voice and point of view, fears and power, memory and uncertainty. Writing reflects what matters to people, and our discussions inform our writing just as writing informs our discussions. There's always "the book everyone's talking about," but there's also, "the book I'll never forget," "the first book I loved," "the book that changed my mind," "the book about which I've changed my mind," "the book everyone else loves but I just didn't get," "the book I wish everyone would read," and of course, always, "the next book I want to read." May the circle keep widening.</span>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-84534998885788551312019-09-08T16:13:00.003-04:002019-09-08T16:13:35.095-04:00Solitude<span style="color: #444444;">"Solitude itself is a way of waiting for the inaudible and the invisible to make itself felt."</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;">--May Sarton, <i>Plant Dreaming Deep</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">Solitude is breathing room. It's being alone, yet not feeling lonely or empty. It's finding the richness of one's own thoughts or imagination. It's the white space around words, the room for a story to grow.</span><br />
<br />Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-79445935962645676822019-08-29T19:12:00.002-04:002019-08-29T19:12:56.296-04:00Why we like them<span style="color: #444444;">At YA Outside the Lines, we were talking about favorite characters. My spin on the topic was to explore some of the factors that make certain characters our favorites. As I said, "We like to be dazzled." The full entry is <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><a href="http://yaoutsidethelines.blogspot.com/2019/08/what-makes-favorite-jennifer-r-hubbard.html">here</a></span>. </span>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-4620241975730298262019-07-20T17:35:00.002-04:002019-07-20T17:35:56.557-04:00After the debut<span style="color: #444444;">Five years after my debut as a novelist, I contacted other writers who'd debuted the same year to find out where they were in their journey, how publication had and had not changed their lives, and so forth. I wrote an article about my findings, which I pitched to several writers' publications ... but I found no takers.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">It surprised me, because once I had my first book deal, my main questions were about what <i>might</i> happen next, what <i>would </i>happen next, and how one might go about building on that first book. What were the odds and what were the options? I think writers' resources (magazines, conferences, etc.) are great in helping writers to first publication, and they provide ongoing support for career writers. But I'm not so sure about the bridge from the first phase to the second phase.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">In any case, now it's been closer to ten years, and I've seen stories unfold even more. Back when I got my first book contract, Borders and Barnes & Noble were the big chain bookstores, Penguin and Random House were two separate publishers, ebooks were so new that contracts didn't always cover them, and self-publishing through Amazon was not a phenomenon yet. So much has happened--including the recession of 2008, which dealt blows to the industry that I think are still underestimated.</span><br />
<span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #444444;">In ten years I've seen many writers go on to publish multiple books--some in the same genre in which they started out, some in different genres. People have tried out or wholeheartedly embraced self-publishing; they've found careers in editing, agenting, ghostwriting. Some are writing under pen names, some under multiple pen names.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #444444;">But there are those who didn't publish again, as far as I can tell, or who didn't continue publishing. On the cusp of my debut, I used to think of this as a horrible fate, to be dreaded and avoided at all costs. What I didn't realize then was that disappearing from bookshelves doesn't mean disappearing from life. Many writers turn to other art forms, or they delve into new careers, or devote more time to family. And the thing about publishing is that you never know when a new project will strike--so much is possible. The track is not as narrow as I used to fear.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">So for the debut authors out there who might worry about what happens next, I would say: A variety of things <i>can </i>happen, and there is no one thing that <i>must </i>happen in order for this to be a success. There are many, many paths.</span>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-43841853437459213432019-07-02T19:55:00.003-04:002019-07-02T19:55:48.657-04:00Second chances<span style="color: #444444;">Sometimes I buy a piece of clothing that doesn't work out the way I'd hoped. I have nothing to wear with it, or I have no place suitable to wear it, or it has an itchy tag, or something. I am slow to discard such things--well, anything, really--so they lurk in the back of my closet, waiting for another chance.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">And it thrills me when I find a purpose for them, when they get that second chance. A maxi dress I bought years ago never made my office-clothes rotation, the way I thought it would, but at some point I discovered it made the perfect beach dress. A short-sleeved sweater I couldn't find a use for has jumped into the lineup during this hot summer when I need a light coverup for the cold commuter train. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">I have pieces of writing like that, too. A character, a name, a setting, a scene, a first line, sparks my interest, and I try unsuccessfully to make it work in story after story. But it doesn't fit; it's like the beautiful bronze skirt I once bought that paired badly with shirt after shirt. Often those writing fragments lurk in files for years, like the misfit clothing lurking in the closet. And what a joy when they find their proper place, when they lock seamlessly into the jigsaw puzzle of a story. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444;">In hindsight, it seems that piece was always meant for that story. It's one reason I don't consider a failed story to be a wasted effort. The truth is that I may not know what will be useful for years to come.</span>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5030001388898725918.post-42164829915885927932019-05-27T17:44:00.003-04:002019-05-27T17:44:27.660-04:00Book to movie<span style="color: #444444;">It was my turn to blog at YA Outside the Lines, and this month I wrote about <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><a href="http://yaoutsidethelines.blogspot.com/2019/05/living-longer-with-movies-jennifer-r.html">how films can extend the lives of books</a></span>. As I say there, "Largely, the books we remember for more than a generation are those that were made into movies." </span>Jennifer R. Hubbardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03408588432492354248noreply@blogger.com0