Robin Puelma's Blog - Posts Tagged "t"

This is the longest I've ever gone without writing. Six months. Six entire months without putting pen to page, creating a new story, or editing an old one. I didn't journal. I didn't doodle. All I did was let my mind wander.

Sometimes, that's necessary. Sometimes, when I'm deep in a project, I can be so focused on an edit or a sentence or a period that I forget the creativity part of it all. That what drew me in to writing the story in the first place was imagining. Dreaming. Wandering. Observing.

I think one of my favorite things to do as a writer is observe. I am a nosey, eavesdropping observer in cafes, on street corners, in grocery stores, etc.. Wherever I am, I let my ears and eyes observe. (Don't judge. I bet you do this too.) It might be two people arguing in a tiny chic restaurant. It might be a family resembling a circus at a cafe. It might be nothing but the growing line of a Starbucks.

And while most of it is mundane, it feeds my soul. It reminds me that I create. That I create out of nothing. That I can take the mundane, the mediocre, the modest, and give it life.

Because that's really what storytelling is, isn't it? Taking the everyday and breathing new life into it? Most of the time, to me, that means a bit of magic. I can't help but want something fantastical to happen in every one of my mundane scenes of life.

So durning this break of mine, this six month break, I observed. I let my mind wander.

And now? I *think* I know who I want to write about. She's come to me a few times during this break. A sense of a girl. A strong girl who's not ready to let her insecurities break her. I've had no clue to anything else of her story. But, that's where now comes in.

Now is the time to create. To say goodbye to the slump and hello to the magic. Now is the time to meet my character and discover her story.

This is the longest I've ever gone without writing. Six months. Six entire months without putting pen to page, creating a new story, or editing an old one. I didn't journal. I didn't doodle. All I did was let my mind wander.

Sometimes, that's necessary. Sometimes, when I'm deep in a project, I can be so focused on an edit or a sentence or a period that I forget the creativity part of it all. That what drew me in to writing the story in the first place was imagining. Dreaming. Wandering. Observing.

I think one of my favorite things to do as a writer is observe. I am a nosey, eavesdropping observer in cafes, on street corners, in grocery stores, etc.. Wherever I am, I let my ears and eyes observe. (Don't judge. I bet you do this too.) It might be two people arguing in a tiny chic restaurant. It might be a family resembling a circus at a cafe. It might be nothing but the growing line of a Starbucks.

And while most of it is mundane, it feeds my soul. It reminds me that I create. That I create out of nothing. That I can take the mundane, the mediocre, the modest, and give it life.

Because that's really what storytelling is, isn't it? Taking the everyday and breathing new life into it? Most of the time, to me, that means a bit of magic. I can't help but want something fantastical to happen in every one of my mundane scenes of life.

So durning this break of mine, this six month break, I observed. I let my mind wander.

And now? I *think* I know who I want to write about. She's come to me a few times during this break. A sense of a girl. A strong girl who's not ready to let her insecurities break her. I've had no clue to anything else of her story. But, that's where now comes in.

Now is the time to create. To say goodbye to the slump and hello to the magic. Now is the time to meet my character and discover her story.

I've been discouraged lately. With writing, creating, blogging. That jealousy monster is creeping in again and I don't like it. Not only does it rob me of my own happiness, but it also kicks me down and keeps me from creating.

Anyone else deal with this?

I'm trying to come up with ways to combat this. Besides stuffing my face with cake, that is. (Though, that is an excellent temporary fix.) I've got a few in my back pocket that I always go to, that I'll share in a minute. But what honestly is the hardest for me is actually doing them. I can let discouragement rule. Start to mope. Drown myself in self pity. But when I actually apply my list of "Discouragement Fighters," I come out a different person. Stronger. Ready. Excited.

So, here's my list. I'd love to know what yours are!

1. MUSIC -- my first go-to to shed discouragement is always music. Putting on a playlist or album that takes my mind away from the noise helps me refocus. Currently, I'm loving Sarah Bareilles' "Waitress" album. Odd? Maybe. But Bareilles wrote all the music and lyrics to this musical about a woman rediscovering herself. As I listen to the songs, I almost feel as if I am this woman she sings of. Soon, I'm more excited about creative possibilities than swimming in my own discouragement.

2. DRINK -- stepping away from my laptop to make a cup of coffee or tea is one of my favorite things to do. There is something entirely comforting about filling the kettle / coffee maker; waiting for the waiter to boil / the coffee to drip; taking that first, delicious sip. I find if I can step away and take part in a small tea/coffee ritual, I become lost in the comfort of creating and shed the discouragement I was feeling minutes before.

3. READ -- I think when discouragement hits, it's mostly due to others' success. At least, for me it is. (Which sounds so selfish. But, I am human.) And it instantly makes me doubt my skills. If I take a step back and reread some of my pieces, I find myself reminded that I am talented. That I am a writer. That I am worthy of this craft. I get lost in my characters, in my prose and am excited to return to whatever project I was working on instead of dwelling in discouragement.

Share some of your discouragement fighters below!

Anyone care what the day in a life of a writer looks like?

Yes? Maybe?

Most of the time, it's rather boring. I think people have this idea that writers wake up, filled with creative ideas and spend the next several hours typing furiously away on a laptop, in a cafe, marveling at how brilliant we are. A draft is produced, perfectly, of course. And then we spend the rest of the afternoon lallygagging through a park.

I won't lie. Sometimes. SOMETIMES, it's like that. On the rarest occasion, this is what my day looks like. And it's amazing.

BUT.

Here's what a typical day looks like.

I wake up, a mess. I'm NOT a morning person (and those who have lived with me can verify this) so no matter how much sleep I've gotten the night before, tearing myself out of bed is an ordeal. I will say, having a dog has helped me get up at a normal hour--after all, no one wants the dog's bladder to explode.

Once I'm up and have taken the dog out, I'll make the breakfast (it's been smoothies lately) and the coffee (always Starbucks) and spend a bit of time with the Lord. If I'm to create, and he created me, I need his guidance, his help.

Next, I'll hop on my laptop; check email; check self-pub book stats; and do some social media "shtuff"; this includes everything from posting on Instagram to writing a new blog post to connecting with followers to responding to emails (I don't get many). I can quickly fall into the black hole of the Internet if I don't stop myself.

So I try. And fail. And try again to ready myself for the writing. I typically pour my second (or third) cup of coffee and start. Since I'm going through the 90 Day Novel again (PRAISE THIS BOOK IN ALL ITS WRITING GOODNESS), I set aside two solid hours of working on my new story.

Now, don't get fooled. This is an ugly process. It looks rather boring. And lonely. And lame at times. I sit, pen in hand, journal beneath it, and write stream-of-conscious exercises for the next two hours. All the while sipping coffee, peeking at emails, slipping onto social media. Basically wasting time when I should be writing. Getting distracted is my (and probably every writer's) biggest enemy.

Somedays I get in a solid two hours. Sometimes I get distracted. I'm not proud of it. But that's the truth. Because, like I said, the distractions begin. The dog. (Play with me.) The laundry. (Fold me.) The dishes. (Clean me.) The beds. (Make me.) The groceries. (Buy me.) Being a homemaker is part of my "job" (I love it), so I can often put those responsibilities above writing.

When I do manage to power through, shutting the door on those distractions, I feel pretty pleased. I'm in the beginning stages of creating my story--which means, the excitement is high. The love of the unknown is thrilling. There's a bit of extra magic in this stage of novel creating. Less self-doubt. More imagining.

I know this part won't last. That the magic will fade. And the work aspect will kick in hard. Which is what isn't talked about much. There is boring work in writing. There is fog and muck in there too.

But if I can remind myself of how good it feels to finish a first draft, to hold that story in my hands, I push past the junk and write.

The rest of the day? Freelance, when I have it. Work-out, when I do it. And Meal prep, when I'm completely on top of my game. Then, when the husband comes home, the laptop turns off. And relaxing begins.

I was inspired to write this post after reading about James Aries' happy place on his blog. It's so sweet, how he describes his grandparents' cabin and the special meaning it holds. And it got me thinking. What's my happy place?

My happy place has changed over the course of the years. It's been various coffee houses in various cities. Bean Town (a small coffee house in the foothills of Sierra Madre) was one of the first that I can remember--it's where I spent most of my days and nights crafting The Missing Crimoire. Rickety tables; mismatched chairs; artsy wall hangings; and a list of teas I could never tire of made this cozy spot a favorite.

When we moved to Pasadena, I found myself gravitating towards Old Pasadena--our downtown area with all the shops and cafes. At the time, my husband was a store manager for that area's Starbucks. I spent numerous hours there writing The Naming of Colton Black. The store underwent a beautiful remodel, making the space feel metropolitan and inspiring. It was sleek; it dripped of city vibes; and it housed my husband when he wasn't home. Obvious win.

Lately, however, my happy place has shifted. While I will always adore writing in a coffee house--nothing beats the hustle and bustle of a city shop to me; the energy; the business; the yummy sweets and beverages--I've found myself gravitating towards a different type of location.

Home.

My happy place is my home. What I love so much about this space is the ambiance. Our personal style has grown over the years. And this one? Is my favorite. Bright light shines through our home; its open floor plan allows for various spots to sit and write. White kitchen; grey walls; herringbone floors. It speaks to my soul because it's a part of my soul. And isn't that what every happy place is?

I've never been one to write at home. It's either been too distracting or not inspiring enough. Now, because of God's goodness, we've created a space that inspires me to create. Whether that's sitting at our counter with a cup of coffee, in our office with my toes in our squishy rug, or on the couch beside the dog, I love writing at home.

Home, thank you for being my happy place.

Where's yours?