Category Archives: Thinking

Time to move on from jetlag

After a couple of sleepless nights and some very sleepy days, it’s time to get back to work.  A new novel to edit, a story to rethink, some ideas kicking about in my head.  How do we as writers know where to start and how to get back into what we’re doing?  Well, the way I do it is I listen to music.  The same song over and over again.  And again.  Each piece of writing has a piece of music attached.  Some writers write at a particular time of day, others only work on one project at a time.  But for me music helps me focus.  After the first rendition of the tune, I don’t hear it anymore because I’m back where I left off…

At least, that’s the idea.  Try it!

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Dubai

I’m here in Dubai awaiting the start of the Emirates Festival of Literature.  I’m here to teach a couple of workshops with teen writers in Dubai and I’m really looking forward to working with them. 

Whilst I’ve been here, I spent a couple of days in the desert, enjoying lots of empty space and rolling dunes from my window.  It got me thinking about writing and how sometimes you can stereotype place when you write about it.  The desert isn’t always hot and dry.  In the mornings, a heavy mist hangs over the sands, thickening the air.  The sky isn’t blue but hazy.  The sun when it heats up, feels so close that it’s heavy.  I wouldn’t have known any of these things if I hadn’t been in the desert myself.  Now, as writers, we can’t always go to the places we’re writing about – especially if it’s somewhere imaginary.  But we can do research.  We can read about places like the place we’re describing.  We can talk to people who have been there.  If it’s an imaginary place, we can research the realistic parts to make the imaginary parts feel more true.

That helps me not to stereotype descriptions of place when I’m writing. 

Here’s an exercise: take a few minutes every day or so to describe the weather and the sky in the place you’re in.  Really try and capture the essence of what you’re seeing, feeling, smelling… You’d be surprised – the sunset isn’t always orange, the morning isn’t often crisp…

Can you break those stereotypes?

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Writing writing writing

Several years ago, I took up cross-country skiing. The place I live, Saskatoon, is flat and snowy, and very sunny, so cross-country skiing was a way to get outside, to enjoy some sunshine, and to move across the frozen landscape. After falling over many times, getting covered in snow, and weeping once with frustration as how windy and miserable the whole experience was, I began to get the hang of it. I learned how to glide on my skis, moving gracefully (most of the time) and with pleasure (nearly all of the time).

Then, over the last year, I stopped skiing. I put the skis aside and, although I kept meaning to go, I just couldn’t quite get myself to go out and do it. Until this weekend. This weekend, I went to Waskesiu, Saskatchewan, with some friends. We rented a cabin, packed up good food, took bathing suits for the hot tub, and we waxed our skis. Yesterday afternoon, I found myself with my ski boots on, skis over my shoulder, the wide, white trail leading through the poplars ahead of me.

Sometimes writing just flows. It feels easy to get words on the page. Stories and ideas tap from my fingers into sentences and paragraphs and I feel confident and assured that what I’m writing is worth putting onto paper. But other times, writing feels stiff and difficult. The blank page feels like a snowy field, impossible to traverse. I don’t know how to move forward with a story. I’m stuck and out of practice.

Yesterday morning, I put on my skis and wobbled to the start of the track. It wasn’t easy at first, but soon I was gliding again. I wasn’t as fast as I once was; nor was I as confident. But the more I ski, the easier it’ll get. The more I write, the more fluid the sentence become. Writing isn’t always easy, but for me, opening a new blank document in Word is like getting on my ski boots. I just have to get on and do it.

Start a story or a poem with the words: Snow fell like feathers…

Or, free write for ten minutes on the subject of travel

Fill some white space.

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