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Cameron Montague Taylor

Fantasy Author & Fiction Editor

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writing

Morning Page: Chosen / Imposter

April 1, 2021 by Cameron Montague Taylor 2 Comments

Welcome to Morning Pages — it’s time for a monthly roundup. I hope you’ve got your pencils sharpened and ready to write. Wanna join in on the fun? Read the prompt, set your timer* and get ready to let the words flow. Feel free to post the results of your work in the comments below where we chat about writing and (if the mood strikes us) get a craft discussion going.

If you want critique from other commenters, use #YESTHANKS in your comment. Otherwise, you can tell us about the flash fic and the process you went through to write it. And of course, I’m always open to hear what you think about my excerpts!

*you can write for as long as you want, but most folks choose 15-30 minutes.

Things I learned this month: One of the best parts about writing first thing in the morning is getting to carry the mood over from my dreams. Elements of my dreams have ended up in most of this month’s stories, and they’ve been the focal points of my favorite twists and turns. Though my dreams lose their vividness the moment I wake, the creative exercise of digging for details to flesh out and capture the nebulous feeling the dreams left me with was a fun and interesting process on its own. I’d call this month my first ‘dream-journal’ as a result, for each flash fic was an extrapolation of something I saw while I was sleeping.

I wonder what that says about me and my creative process.

From what I understand, my dreaming brain combs through, processes, and settles the events of previous days. If that’s the case, I wonder how much of my writing comes out of those dreams and the images they conjure, whether or not I remember the source of my ideas.

The Prompts:

“A character is banished from their world.”

“Lightblessed“: There are terrible consequences when magic goes awry.

“Smoke hung so thick in the library’s rafters, she could read words in it.”

“Burned Words“: She won’t let them take a generation’s worth of knowledge away.

“Pearl + Bewitch + Thunderstorm”

Bedia would do anything for the chancellor.

“A magical book turns whatever’s written in it into reality.”

Don’t we all wish our daily planners were so powerful?

“Brittle”

An exploratory write that formed the foundation for the ending chapters of Dark Arm of the Maker.

“Equinox”

In a world where everyone receives a name at age twelve, one child remains nameless.

“Winter was the only season they could be together.”

Ehrin and Felix from the Oceana ‘verse enjoy a long-awaited reunion.

“Stutter”

There’s a particular level of risk that comes with insulting a wizard who has a speech impediment.

“You should not underestimate her. She has exquisite aim.”

An Oceana ‘verse from long after the story ends. Imran’s daughter knows what she’s doing.

“Everyone knew no one lived in the Night Lands… but that wasn’t quite true.”

A retiring scientist tells his replacement about his unique relationship with a sentient planet, Sunflower.

“I hope you like the stars I stole for you.”

A little girl tries to get her mother a gift.

“Chosen + Herald + Imposter”

Can you tell the holy from the unholy?

“Protector + Veil”

When the King has triplets, two become protectors and one becomes a queen.

Picture Prompts

“Where to next?” “Anywhere, as long as I’m with you.“

“So what if I swindled a king?” asks the privateer.

Get Involved!

Join the craft of writing discussion in the comments. Every day I’ll base my questions off of thoughts my Morning Page brought to mind. Answer the prompts or dive straight in and respond to others’ comments — let’s share our knowledge, our experience, and have a discussion we can all learn from!

Questions:

  • Do your dreams inspire your writing? How so?

Filed Under: Morning Pages Tagged With: fiction writing prompts, flash fiction, picture prompt, writing, writing community, writing exercises, writing inspiration, writing prompts

Morning Pages: Blackberries

February 28, 2021 by Cameron Montague Taylor 7 Comments

Welcome to Morning Pages — it’s time for a monthly roundup. I hope you’ve got your pencils sharpened and ready to write. Wanna join in on the fun? Read the prompt, set your timer* and get ready to let the words flow. Feel free to post the results of your work in the comments below where we chat about writing and (if the mood strikes us) get a craft discussion going.

If you want critique from other commenters, use #YESTHANKS in your comment. Otherwise, you can tell us about the flash fic and the process you went through to write it. And of course, I’m always open to hear what you think about my excerpts!

*you can write for as long as you want, but most folks choose 15-30 minutes.

Things I learned this month: Being a dyed-in-the-wool perfectionist who struggles when things don’t go right the first time is a *trip* when one is also a writer.

I think perfectionists come in two breeds: procrastinators and tinkerers. I’m the first breed. If something isn’t going well, or if I’m concerned it won’t go well on the first try, I’ll put it off until time ends and the oceans run dry. While it goes without saying that this is a self-destructive habit, it’s also a helluva tough one to try to break. The only ‘hack’ that helps is a hard and fast deadline.

Over time, I’ve gotten better at honoring the deadlines I set for myself the same way I honor external time pressure, but some days it’s more of a struggle than others. I had a lot of those days throughout the past month, none worse than the day I wrote the piece of flash fiction this post is named after. If it weren’t for a very real deadline (I had to write another flash fic the next day!) it’d still sit unfinished on my hard drive.

I could beat myself up about this tendency, I suppose, but I don’t think it’d get me anywhere. Throughout the time I’ve spent as a writer, I’ve had to come to grips with all of my little idiosyncrasies. If needing to game myself into finishing work is one of them, so be it — better to accept this is the way I am and work with it than to fight against my nature.

And ultimately, that’s what a writing process is, isn’t it? Finding a way to produce good work within the boundaries of one’s nature.

The Prompts:

“Your new ring likes to give you questionable advice that only you can hear.”

Mostly about the stock market.

“There was madness in her bloodline.”

Which doesn’t bode well for her subjects.

“Shatter”

What if a heart really could break like glass?

“Secret + Autumn + Ice”

Neveshir from Dark Arm of the Maker visits the shrine of an old friend.

“A rare flower is required to cure a plague. It is deadly if handled carelessly.”

“Deadly Flower“: A brave knight saves her kingdom — but at what price?

“Secret”

A young bride learns something most welcome about her new husband.

“In three days, a planetary alignment will cause the barriers between the planes to become thin.”

Grief doesn’t get lighter; we grow strong enough to carry it.

“Bone + Copper + Vulture”

“Bones“: Beware the mirages in the drylands. They will lead you astray.

“You should not underestimate her. She has exquisite aim.”

An Oceana ‘verse from long after the story ends. Imran’s daughter knows what she’s doing.

“Star + Ink + Rescue”

“Shipbreaker“: A rescue swimmer encounters a man who isn’t worth saving.

“Sin”

I’ve always wanted to write a Zorro-inspired Fantasy.

“Now that you see what I am, do you still love me?”

What if Cinderella’s stepsisters weren’t the monstrous ones?

“Protector + Veil”

When the King has triplets, two become protectors and one becomes a queen.

Picture Prompts

“Don’t Look“: Sirens prey on sailors who acknowledge the beauty of their voices.

A black and white photograph of a nude young man fading into the mist where a grassy field meets a forest.

“Blackberries“: A man remembers a lover from long ago.

“Merfolk“: Arden from the Oceana ‘verse tells a story about a long-forgotten creature.

Get Involved!

Answer the prompts or dive straight in and respond to others’ comments — let’s share our knowledge, our experience, and have a discussion we can all learn from! Don’t want to miss a post? Subscribe to the blog in the sidebar to get notified about new posts.

Questions

  • Do you write well under deadlines?
  • Why or why not?

Filed Under: Morning Pages Tagged With: fiction writing prompts, flash fiction, ghost story, meeting deadlines, photo prompt, picture prompt, writing, writing community, writing exercises, writing inspiration, writing prompts

Worldbuilder’s Disease: Intro

February 3, 2021 by Cameron Montague Taylor 3 Comments

Many Sci-fi/Fantasy (SFF) writers create their first worlds in childhood. They might spend years crafting epics in their heads before putting pen to paper. (I did it, too.) We build settings, characters, backstories, religions, environments, and systems of governance. Some of us have art, maps, maybe even notebooks full of details. Pinterest boards. Folders on our hard drives filled with inspo.

We know everything about our worlds. Clothing, food, trade systems, how sociopolitical factions conflict with one another. Some of us might have the scaffold for thousands of years of history already constructed. These worlds are real, are alive inside our heads.

…but we don’t have a draft of the novel.

In this three-part blog series on worldbuilder’s disease and its associated elements, I’ll tackle the following topics:

  1. What worldbuilder’s disease is and why getting trapped in the worldbuilding phase is dangerous
  2. Overcoming worldbuilder’s disease and getting our project started
  3. The pitfalls those with worldbuilder’s disease will likely encounter while drafting

I hope this serves as a useful reference for my fellow spec fic writers, whether or not you identify as a member of the worldbuilder’s disease club.

What is worldbuilder’s disease?

The defining characteristic of worldbuilder’s disease lies not in the vividness of the built world, but rather, in the sparseness of the writing. In other words: there isn’t any writing, even though we’ve spent years upon years cooking ideas in our heads.

Or, alternatively, there is writing – but not a complete story. Maybe we’ve started a bunch of different novels but never finished any of them. Maybe we keep rewriting the same opening chapters of one story over, and over, and over again.

Whatever the case may be, we have a head (or notebook) full of ideas and almost no narrative content in functional draft form.

Not all diseases are malignant.

Worldbuilder’s disease isn’t necessarily a bad thing. There’s nothing wrong with filling notebooks with new languages or alternate universes (Tolkien did it, too). Some worldbuilders are more interested in the building than the storytelling, and that’s fine. If you get joy from making character profiles but never want to craft the narrative itself, that’s cool and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You don’t have to ‘use’ your world by putting it into a story.

That said, if your ultimate goal is to write a SFF epic someday, worldbuilder’s disease starts to look a little less benign.

Once we’ve spent years worldbuilding without writing, the act of worldbuilding becomes an impediment instead of an aid. This doesn’t apply if the project is backburnered in favor of drafting others, of course. Worldbuilder’s disease becomes a problem only when it prevents us from getting any words onto the page.

At that point, we’re faced not with a fun story-building pastime, but rather, elaborately crafted writer’s block. We trick ourselves into thinking we’re working on our work-in-progress (WIP) by doing everything but the writing itself and put months (years?) into the pre-production phase. In reality, once we’ve spent more than a few weeks on worldbuilding, we’re well past the point of diminishing returns.

Writers with worldbuilder’s disease tend to have one of two drafting roadblocks:

  • “I don’t know how to get started.” (Related: I’m not done fleshing out 10,000 years of history. I just can’t make myself pick up the pen. I’m afraid the reality won’t live up to what’s in my head. I have no idea how to make a story out of a bible’s worth of worldbuilding facts.)
  • “I don’t know where to start.” (Related: How do I fit 10,000 years of history into a single story? I’m not sure which characters to focus on. How the heck do you figure out where to start chapter one after you’ve crafted an entire space opera universe?)

If you have worldbuilder’s disease and are stuck in an inescapable rut, I have a spoonful of motivation to share with you: the same realization that helped me transition from building worlds in my head to putting them down on paper.

We don’t need to spend ten years getting a world down on paper. We don’t need to know everything about our worlds when we start writing.

Most importantly: our readers don’t need to know everything about our worlds, either.

Why?

No one cares about our worlds.

Yes, ouch, I know – believe me, I know.

You may be squinting at the screen and saying ‘No way, Cee. GRRM, Tolkien, etc. built words that people are obsessed with. There are wikis and merch and fanworks to prove it.’

And yes, you’d be right to say so. People are obsessed with the world of the Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, etc. I’m not immune to this obsession. Know what else all of those works have in common?

The authors already wrote the stories. People don’t read Tolkien’s notes for giggles. They read them because they fell in love with the story Tolkien told. Though Tolkien ostensibly wrote LotR to have somewhere to house his nerdy languages and eons of history, he wove all of that worldbuilding into the story via

  • Engaging characters, and
  • A compelling narrative tale.

If he hadn’t, the SFF community wouldn’t have spent years digging through every letter he wrote to trace the history of Middle-Earth.

(If Frodo hadn’t (mostly) cast the ring into the fires of Mount Doom, no one would care about the Dark Lord, his tower, or his ring.)

In other words, the bitter part of the medicine – no one cares about our worlds – is sweetened by this:

No one cares about our worlds until we tie them to plot and character.

Rest assured, it is possible to get readers to love the world we’ve built as much as we do – but the only way to get there is to write the story that goes with it.

When we worldbuild, we come up with some truly amazing, creative ideas. Rainbow wyverns who eat prismatic light and pelt attackers with gold. Desert wyrms who can split apart and multiply in-battle like the world’s most infuriating videogame boss.

Yet those amazing creations aren’t enough on their own. They only matter inasmuch as they have a direct impact upon the characters in our story.

These wyverns and wyrms won’t drive the reader to keep turning pages unless they come into direct conflict with characters the reader cares about. Until a rainbow wyvern lobs a nugget into the protagonist’s head, why should it matter to the reader that they turn light to gold? Until worldbuilding details interact with a character, they exist in a vacuum.

I’m going to distill this idea, because it’s vital to understanding how worldbuilding serves our writing: a setting’s importance to the reader is directly proportional to how much of an impact that setting has upon the characters. The more conflict the setting causes, the more interesting the setting becomes.

In order for our readers to care about the world we spent ten years crafting inside our minds, we have to write a story that takes them through that world, showcasing its most interesting bits through the events of the plot.

Think of the narrative like the tracks on an amusement park ride. The ride itself is meaningless from the outside – a potential experience that has yet to come to pass. The story (or the rail the ride’s car sits on) guides the reader through that world in a fun, engaging way. Readers might not notice every bit of machinery that makes the ride go. They may focus on one bit of the ride and ignore others. But the tracks you’ve built – or the story you craft – is what makes that ride accessible.

Otherwise, they’re standing on the other side of a gate, looking in at an overwhelming amount of information without any compelling reason to slog through any of it.

Worldbuilding isn’t writing

For those of us with worldbuilder’s disease, it’s imperative that we stop thinking about worldbuilding as time spent writing.

(Caveat: those of us who don’t have worldbuilder’s disease may find the opposite helpful. I have a friend who counts all of his worldbuilding words as ‘words written today’ to keep himself from skimping on the planning process.)

Until you have several completed drafts under your belt, counting planning words is a kiss of death. It gives you permission to avoid the difficult work: actually writing your story.

This is hard. Harder for those of us who’ve been worldbuilding for years and consider the worlds in our head a second home. So long as the setting remains intact in our minds, it’s perfect – the exact story we’ve always wanted to read. We can play it through our minds in its entirety – all ten thousand years of it – and don’t have to think about character arcs, killing darlings, or avoiding white-room syndrome.

As soon as our worlds hit the page, they’re beholden to two Big Scary Limitations:

  • The limits of narrative structure, and
  • The limits of our technical skill.

If we want to write our story, we must accept that imperfect words on a page are better than perfect words inside our head. We must let ourselves believe that, even though some of the richness of our world will invariably be lost in translation, we cannot transport anyone else to that world with us unless we make an attempt at translating. And even if the limits of narrative structure demand that we only tell a mere fraction of the full measure of the story in our heads, that mere fraction is more than what currently sits in our blank drafting document.

The first step of curing worldbuilder’s disease is getting started.

Stay tuned for next week’s post when I’ll write about mending our worldbuilding ways and getting words onto paper for the first time (or getting past whatever chapter keeps hanging you up!). Join me again on week three when I break down some of the biggest pitfalls those of us with worldbuilder’s disease encounter as soon as the words start flowing.

And if you’re looking for a way to get something – anything – on paper in the meantime, join me tomorrow (and Saturday, and Sunday, and Tuesday) for Morning Pages: short flash fiction prompts for SFF writers looking to jumpstart creativity and chat about craft.

Filed Under: Craft Of Writing Tagged With: craft of writing, how to write a novel, how to write fantasy, worldbuilder's disease, worldbuilding, writing, writing advice

Make it Work

January 20, 2021 by Cameron Montague Taylor 6 Comments

Do you ever sit at the screen and know that getting words on the page will come about as easily as swallowing rusty nails? I think we all have days like this. Professionals aren’t immune to them either, if the myriad twitterverse posts on the subject are to be believed.

But we don’t all face the same battles on those days. Folks who write for the love of it – with no intent to publish – don’t have to pick up the pen on the days when it’s a struggle. This isn’t in any way meant to shade hobby writers. There shouldn’t be a pressure to commodify everything we love, and a writer needn’t have publication as an end goal in order for the time they spend writing to be meaningful, legitimate, and useful. But writing goals will change how we approach those rusty-nail days

Those of us who are trying to write professionally must adhere to deadlines. We don’t set down the pen when the words won’t come – which means we can’t wait for sweet, sweet inspiration to strike before we put words to paper.

“I just can’t write today.”

It’s so easy to fall behind on deadlines. If I go a week without writing, I’ll end up with a mountain of words that needs to come out before I’m back on schedule again. It’s incredibly daunting to watch a deficit build after days upon days of undershooting my goals, which makes it tough to re-start.

Last year was incredibly tough on me. Each time a new horror show hit the news, it sapped my productivity and put me behind my planned wordcount. Then, I’d start feeling better about the world, only to be faced with a 4-5k wordcount hole.

The hardest part about writing, is writing.

It’s writing when I can’t write: when the well of inspiration has run dry, and I struggle to get words down onto the page.

I’m 100% for the general thrust of internet advice that says if you can’t write, if this is killing you, don’t beat yourself up. I’m not saying ‘your cat died? Suck it up and write’. That’s, well. Tone-deaf at best, cruel at worst. There are going to be times when you simply cannot get words down. You know when those times are, and that’s not what I’m talking about.

This is also not a post about pushing through mental or physical health difficulties to “just write”. Folks who struggle with their health must think of their health first. Work must always come second to our physical and mental wellbeing.

I’m talking about those fringe times when nothing is particularly wrong, but you’re feeling low-energy, like your will to work has run dry. These are the moments that I want to focus on for myself, because they’re going to impact whether or not I turn work in on time.

Here’s what it comes down to:

Once we’ve cleared major obstacles from our path (obligations, commitments, health problems), can we make ourselves do the work?

There is no silver bullet for motivation

The unfortunate truth is that motivation is a unique, internal process. I can’t motivate you to sit down and write. You can’t motivate me.

To get really hokey: motivation is like happiness. It’s something we have to create for ourselves.

There are general tips and tricks to motivation, of course – ones you can find just about anywhere on the internet. I learn best when presented with specifics, though, and wanted to dedicate a post to sharing these specifics with you. When presented with evidence of others’ productivity, I always ask myself

How do they do it?

Hopefully this answers that question for you. I’d love to hear about your writing rituals in the comments – the more we compile, the more we can learn from one another’s motivation and productivity methods.

Your methods are unique to you, and that’s okay

I’m going to share two different scenarios:

  1. My typical daily wordcount push. I write between 1.5k and 2.5k each day when I have my head on straight – but that doesn’t mean I always want to.
  2. A desperate 4k push to chip away at a deficit I’ve created for myself.

These wordcounts might look nothing like yours. Maybe they’re way over or way under your averages. Don’t negatively compare yourself to them! I’m giving concrete numbers for the sake of illustrating an example and helping you calibrate your own motivational habits, not for the sake of holding up my own stats as some kind of gold standard.

(Because trust me, a gold standard they are definitely not.)

Different writers also count different kinds of words. When I say “wordcount”, I always mean fully-drafted wordcounts. I don’t count outlines, zero drafts, notes, or otherwise. I know some writers do count words on a fast-draft, zero-draft, or skeleton outline, but I won’t. I find zero drafting the most fun part of the process, so I don’t let myself get a reward until I go another step and turn that zero draft into actual prose.

That’s a personal choice. How you count words is entirely up to you. I have a friend who counts all worldbuilding, plotting, and notetaking words because he feels guilty and unproductive spending time on them if he doesn’t. That is very smart of him. Customize what ‘counts’ to guide yourself in the right direction.

If you’re interested in the kind of writing I’d count towards a daily wordcount goal, you can look at my Morning Pages – that’s the general quality and style of prose I’ll consider good enough for a first draft before moving onto the next scene.

Daily writing and wordcount minimums

When I say I end up with 1.5k-2.5k each day, it sounds like I’m working on a daily minimum wordcount. (It also sounds like I have an enormous wordcount range, oop.)

But I’m not working by a wordcount goal. That’s an expected range I’ve come up with after learning a lot about my writing speed and style over the past year. When I write as part of a daily habit, time is the only metric I care about. My ‘goal’ wordcount is bang on 2k. Some days I won’t hit it before time runs out. Other days I’ll exceed it. If it averages out to 10k/wk, I’m happy.

I plan to write five days a week for 2.5hrs each writing day. I don’t have my hands to the keyboard for the entirety of those 2.5 hours. Sometimes I’m outlining, sometimes I’m zero drafting, sometimes I’m staring at the screen while pulling my hair out. At the end of the week, though, I’ll make that average wordcount just by virtue of the time I spend working.

If I need to bump my weekly output upwards (hello NaNoWriMo), I’ll add more days before I add more time. Days off are sacred, but sometimes I need to get a draft done, and adding time to my 2.5 hours is a dangerous gamble.

Why? Because 2.5 hours is absolutely when I hit diminishing returns. If I could give you any single piece of advice about writing schedules, it’s this: know your point of diminishing returns and let it determine your stopping time.

YMMV. 2.5 hours might be a drop in the bucket for you. Conversely, writing for 2.5 straight hours might be literally impossible. Either way, I’m a big proponent of figuring out a schedule that works and doing your utmost to stick to it.

Scheduling your writing time effectively

As a schedule-focused person, I’m at my best when I break that 2.5 hour block into chunks. If I don’t, I end up wasting a ton of time. I might be disciplined, but I’m also incredibly susceptible to distraction.

I have a time cube with which I choose work times. I typically sprint in half hour segments. Though I put my phone out of arm’s reach, I don’t turn it off, and I won’t time my breaks between sprints unless I’m having serious difficulty focusing that day. If I’m grooving, I won’t take breaks.

Sometimes I’ll sprint with friends in my writer’s group for accountability’s sake. Depending on what I’m working on and how it’s going, I can see a 500 to 1,000 word range after a half hour of sprinting.

When I’m really struggling, I’ll put my phone across the room and write in Full Screen mode on Scrivener. I turn my volume down and all of my notifications off. If this still isn’t enough, I’ll disconnect my internet. That’s when I use the time cube to restrict my breaks – five minutes each – and refuse to let myself touch my phone or use the internet even between sprints.

Point is: you know what distracts you and pulls you away from writing. Some distractions (like your family or important phone calls) can’t be helped. Others (like twitter) absolutely can be managed – it’s a matter of figuring out how. Obviously, I’m an extreme case – I have so little self-control when I’m struggling to write that I have to unplug my router. But I do what I have to do to make sure my writing time is sacred.

If I don’t, I end up digging myself a serious, serious hole.

Hitting a high one-time wordcount goal

And getting back out of that hole is easier said than done.

If I have a deadline and need a certain number of words to hit the page to meet it, I might have to set a wordcount goal between 4k and 5k. I know folks who can write way more than that in a day – I’m not one of them. 5k is right at my maximum productivity threshold. It will take me an entire day to complete.

When I have to make up deficits, I’m often not in a good place to write in the first place. If I were in a good mindset, I wouldn’t have gotten myself into that deficit – or at least, the hole wouldn’t be so deep that I had to write 4-5k in a day.

(On the occasions when I need to ramp up productivity a tad over a longer period of time, I’ll do it by either ensuring I hit my 2k goal, or by adding an extra 500 words onto my finishing point each day.)

One-time wordcount goals are about worst-case-scenario deadline crunches.

I’m never happy about them.

But here’s how I get them done, even if it’s like pulling teeth the whole workday:

  • I caffeinate as much as I want. While this isn’t the kind of long-term habit I want to start, if I need to do a serious push only once, sure, I’ll make myself that second Americano at 2pm.
  • I get up early. My ‘early’ is somewhere between 7am and 8am, YMMV. I force myself to go to the gym or do some other kind of serious physical workout. Without that activity, I end up feeling like a dull, listless potato by mid-afternoon, which is a terrible headspace for me to write from.
  • When I sit down to write, I try every single trick to get myself into the mood: cozy sweaters, the right music, pretty Scrivener backgrounds, cool but unreasonable font choices, etc.
  • I put my phone in my kitchen – the absolute maximum range for my Bluetooth speaker. It’s a pain to go all the way into the kitchen to check twitter. This is not an accident.
  • If I have to, I disconnect the internet.
  • I set my time cube to (preferably) 30 minutes. If I’m really struggling, I’ll sprint in 15-minute intervals.
  • At each 30-minute mark, I get down on the floor (yes, the floor) and stretch my back for 5 minutes. My back hates the fact that I chose to be a writer. At this point, I’ll switch the music to pump-up tunes.
  • I don’t write more than 2.5hrs at a time – aka my previously established point of diminishing returns. After 2.5hrs of elapsed writing time, I get up and leave my apartment. Maybe it’s to get that treat I promised myself (omnomnom). More often it’s to take a half hour walk and listen to a podcast. If I’ve been stuck on a plot, I might record myself speaking into my phone (I use otter.ai for voice-to-text).
    • (Side note: when I was a little kid, I mostly ‘wrote’ stories by acting them out loud alone in my bedroom. I used to dress up as characters, too. Sometimes it helps to go back to whatever method we used when we were little when we’re blocked, because it’ll always come more naturally.)
  • No social media. Period. At all. All day.
  • Rinse and repeat until the work is done.
  • I stop working the second I hit my goal. These types of writing days are super-draining on energy and creativity, so I want to spend as much time as possible at the end of the day filling my well back up again. I try to stay away from social media even after I finish writing in favor of reading, consuming media I was looking forward to, drawing, or chatting with folks in my writing group.
  • Most importantly: I don’t stress, even a little, about the quality of my writing. When words come out like nails, I’m certain the writing is terrible because it feels terrible. It’s never as bad as I think it is. Even if it is … sub-par 5k on the page is better than perfect 5k in my head.

All of those ideas and habits are very specific to me and my process, of course, but you’re welcome to try any of them out! I didn’t invent my schedule organically – it came from looking at what other writers did and having a go at imitating their processes, keeping what worked for me and discarding what didn’t.

If I could give one piece of advice, though, it’d be this:

Don’t reward yourself with social media. That ish is like quicksand – once you’re on it, it’s impossible to escape. Make your Big Writing Wordcount Goal days social media free days and your life will be so much easier.

Track. Your. Progress.

Tracking progress is a vital part of my process. It gives me that boost of dopamine each time I hit my goals, and helps me gather and crunch data to tailor my writing routine to my needs.

If you’re new to tracking your progress, here’s the data I find most helpful to have on hand:

  • What project I worked on
  • How much I wrote
  • How long I wrote
  • What time of day I wrote
  • How hard it was to get it out

You’re welcome to add and subtract as necessary – and use any software you need! I really like NaNoWriMo’s goal-setting for this (it tracks all of the above metrics for you), but most writing programs let you set and track goals. I’ve also seen some writers use bullet journals and excel spreadsheets to track their progress.

Over the course of several months, I figured out the following things about myself:

  • I write best in half-hour sprint segments;
  • 2.5 hours is usually the limit before I need a big break from work;
  • I’m 5x more productive in the afternoon and evening than I am in the morning;
  • I work best when I only write 5-6 days a week instead of 7;
  • I’m not actually all that more productive when the words come easy than when they’re hard to get out, so letting that feeling get me down is silly;
  • If I so much as sniff in the direction of Instagram during designated writing time, the whole day is a wash.

My cold, hard facts contradict two pieces of writing advice I get all the time:

  • Write every day
  • Your brain works best in the morning

But hey – maybe those ^ two bits of advice are the absolute lynchpin for productivity for some. I’d never knock someone else’s technique. But I’d encourage every writer to experiment in order to figure out what works best for them.

Tracking progress helped me figure out how to schedule my writing days in order to best meet my deadlines. Now I know what time in my day is sacred and when/how to wield that time for the most efficient outcome.

(I’m trying a few different things this New Year, too, based on writing advice I’ve picked up from across the internet – more on that in a future post!)

Most importantly: tracking data keeps us from lying to ourselves.

IDK how many times I’ve said “but I just write better at 2am!” to myself in order to justify a day’s worth of procrastination. Turns out: I don’t. I’m most productive in the middle of the afternoon, and I have the data to back it up. Staring at those numbers – and the huge disparity between my 2am and 2pm productivity – makes it impossible to tell myself comfortable lies. You know the ones I mean: the lies we tell to excuse ourselves from doing work, making a change, or upending a cozy routine.

Track. Your. Progress.

Without the data it gives us, we flail around in the dark, trying others’ advice and wondering why it doesn’t feel like it’s working.

You won’t always hit your goals

I wrote a post earlier this month about using New Year’s resolutions to make several smaller goals instead of one or two huge ones. The general idea: start simple, rack up easy & early wins, grow from there.

Let’s give ourselves permission to start small, with goals we can meet with our eyes shut.

When we ramp up, let’s give ourselves permission to have bad days – or weeks, or months.

Let’s build those less productive times into our schedules. We can pad deadlines so the inevitable Week From Hell doesn’t upend everything we’ve worked for.

Yet if we fall behind (and we often do): let’s forgive ourselves. It can be fixed – even if the end result isn’t quite what we imagined when we first set out. The more we beat ourselves up for failing to meet goals, deadlines, planned wordcounts, etc., the harder it becomes to sit down and do more writing.

This is a marathon, not a sprint. Let’s build healthy habits and cheer each other on along the way.

.

Looking for a way to get started each day? Join me for my Morning Pages writing prompts on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday. Morning Pages are flash fiction prompts with spec fic flavor. Write along with me, and join the craft discussion in the comments!

Filed Under: Craft Of Writing Tagged With: deadlines, writing, writing motivation, writing rituals, writing schedule

Morning Pages: Dragon Snacks

January 17, 2021 by Cameron Montague Taylor 19 Comments

Welcome to Morning Pages — it’s time for a monthly roundup. I hope you’ve got your pencils sharpened and ready to write. Wanna join in on the fun? Read the prompt, set your timer* and get ready to let the words flow. Feel free to post the results of your work in the comments below where we chat about writing and (if the mood strikes us) get a craft discussion going.

If you want critique from other commenters, use #YESTHANKS in your comment. Otherwise, you can tell us about the flash fic and the process you went through to write it. And of course, I’m always open to hear what you think about my excerpts!

*you can write for as long as you want, but most folks choose 15-30 minutes.

Things I learned this month: This is has been the month of training my brain away from epics to write shorter-form fiction. I’ve been somewhat successful, but I certainly wouldn’t say I’m comfortable with flash fiction yet. I struggled with the format I used, wherein I set a timer and wouldn’t let myself write past the ‘ding’ at the end of the session. Eventually, I got to a point where the stress of the impending timer locked me up too much, so I gave myself permission to set aside 5-10 minutes to clean up and finish the piece later in the day.

I’m well aware that 5-10 minutes of edits aren’t nearly enough to deliver a polished piece of flash fiction; these are exercises and one-offs, and that’s what most of them will stay. But a little extra leeway has helped them serve their purpose. Morning Pages are about jumpstarting creativity, and for that, they get the job done.

My favorite discovery of the month has been how fun it is to pants ideas again. I’m a plotter by nature and work off tight outlines for my long-form fiction. Throwing words at the wall to see what sticks makes me nervous, but the outcomes have been a fun and interesting departure from the weeks (months, years) I spend kicking ideas around for my other works. The structure is a disaster, but the ideas flow free and easy.

I couldn’t write this way all the time. If I did, I’d spend most of my time doing enormous overhaul revisions and rewrites. (Yes, I’m aware this is how many pantsers operate. Power to you if this system works, but I need structure to get a functional story on the paper.) For small-scale flash fic, though? Bring on the pants; it’s time to play in a sandbox of new ideas.

The Prompts:

“That’s the part tales don’t mention: how the hero, forever changed by his journey, can never fit into normal society again.”

“Journeys”: A post-canon short in the Oceana ‘verse

“Can you cook a dragon?”

“Dragon Snacks”: Neveshir from Dark Arm of the Maker deals with a troublesome student

“Lock”

Two characters from the Blight universe attempt to pick a lock

“The old gods are dead.”

Who’s left behind when all the gods are gone?

“Twilight”

A character exploration for an upcoming novel.

“Dawn”

Red sky at dawn, sailors be warned.

“Key”

Neveshir is having yet another bad day.

“I haven’t slept properly in seven years.”

A narrative joke in the Oceana ‘verse.

Picture Prompts

“Starspinner“: A young boy has a beautiful but dangerous power

A hunter watches the fierce green fire fade from the eyes of his prey.

Get Involved!

Answer the prompts or dive straight in and respond to others’ comments — let’s share our knowledge, our experience, and have a discussion we can all learn from! Don’t want to miss a post? Subscribe to the blog in the sidebar to get notified about new posts.

Questions

Are you a plotter or a pantser?
How do you think that impacts your revisions process?

Filed Under: Morning Pages Tagged With: fantasy, flash fiction, magic, picture prompt, writing, writing community, writing exercises, writing inspiration, writing prompts

Writing Resolutions

December 31, 2020 by Cameron Montague Taylor Leave a Comment

The new year is coming — and you know what that means.

Time to pick up a habit for about four days before getting frustrated, letting it slide, and falling far enough to bury our sorrows in chocolate by mid-February.

…anyone? No? Just me?

I find it incredibly hard to stick to my resolutions. In late December and early January I’ll come up with reams of ideas and get fired up by all of them. Though I’m unstoppable on January 2nd, by January 22nd… well, you get the picture.

Why is it so hard to stick to new year’s resolutions?

Because I dream too big when I make them.

I don’t mean to be a cynic — that’s not my style. There are plenty of times when I need a push to dream bigger and to take risks. Resolutions are different. Resolutions are about building better habits and making steady progress towards a goal. But if you’re anything like me, you come to this time of year primed with Big Ideas…

…too many Big Ideas.

Goal or Habit?

When I’m writing my resolutions, I tend to focus on goals, ie: where I want to be in a year’s time if everything goes according to plan. Though I’ll think about the path I need to take to get there in broad, sweeping strokes, I rarely consider the nitty-gritty details: the building blocks of daily habits.

I’m great at dreaming up lofty goals: writing two books in 2021, query agents, enter a novella-writing contest…

I’m not as good at laying the groundwork for the habits I need to develop in order to get me to those goals.

Where do you fall on that spectrum? If you’re goal-oriented like me, you’ve got your eyes on the distant prize and not on the day-to-day. (If you’re a details thinker, all of this is old hat for you — and I envy your mindset!) Big-picture folks like me will struggle to reach the prize because we have trouble structuring the day-to-day. Our journey needs a roadmap. The bigger the goal, the longer and more complicated the roadmap becomes. Without one, we end up lost and sidetracked early on.

Those detours are discouraging. We put in effort and see no progress. Over the course of weeks, our enthusiasm for reaching our goal erodes, leaving us frustrated with ourselves and disappointed with the outcome.

This year, I’m combatting bad habits by trying something new.

Set Fewer, Smaller Goals

Here’s my theory: Momentum is King.

I want do do everything in my power to avoid losing momentum. I know from years past that when the momentum is gone, fighting inertia to jumpstart my resolution engine is almost impossible. For me, that means setting aside the big goals for smaller, more manageable ones. If I have a big project on my mind, I’ll break it down into smaller chunks, and only invest energy into tackling that very first block. Depending on my level of momentum throughout the year, I might even shift projects around, foregoing an epic-scale project for something on the backburner that’s easier to push through.

Point is: getting started is the hardest part. I want to set myself up for early wins, build momentum, and tackle more difficult projects once I’m ready.

I’m so, so tempted to plan my entire year — to have a list of projects I’ll work on month-by-month between now and December. But if this past year taught me anything, it’s that life throws a mean curveball. I don’t want to pack out my writing schedule a year in advance, because when those best-laid plans inevitably go awry, I’m going to feel like I’ve dropped the ball — and there goes my momentum.

I do have some year-long goals for larger projects with fixed deadlines. There’s no helping that. But I’m resisting the temptation to add more and overload myself. Fewer goals, smaller goals.

By smaller goals, I also mean shorter-term goals. Right now, I’m trying to plan only a month or so in advance unless I have a compelling reason to do otherwise.

For example:

My one big (fixed) goal: finish books two and three of the Oceana Series by the end of 2021.

If that’s the big bad, then everything else has to work around it. Looking at my calendar, I’ve blocked off my busiest months (June, July, August), knowing that I won’t have time or energy to work on anything else. Now I’ll let myself look at the rest of the year…

…and force myself to plan my goals as if I’ll operate at 50% of my estimated productivity.

Why? Because I feel absolutely awesome when I nail goals early and add more to my plate, but feel terrible when I’m overdue. Even when due dates are artificial, even if the goal only exists in our head, I know I failed to meet it.

I’m not putting myself in that position this year. As a result, I’ve only planned for one additional project in February — completely ignoring the rest of spring and fall. I’m not trying to ‘reach the sky and land among the stars‘. I’m trying to reach for what’s right next to me, extending myself further only if it looks like I have a reasonable shot at grabbing it without making a mess of things.

I can always add more to my plate when February is through and the contest is finished.

It’s a lot harder for me to take things away.

Small, Recurring Goals Help Build Habits

The hardest part about bringing goals from resolution to reality is drafting (and executing) a functional roadmap. I often bite off more than I can chew and grow frustrated when results fail to materialize. This year, I’m dreaming big but thinking small.

Instead of asking myself how much I can write in a day, I’m working out my comfortable wordcount based on averages drawn from productivity stats in my writing software. NaNoWriMo’s website is also a fantastic tool for this — it helps you set goals and log wordcount if that’s a metric you like to use.

For those of you who prefer to use time-based metrics, I also have a tool for that. I use a time cube (mine is by Datexx). Over the past months, I’ve fiddled with periods of work and rest to figure out what’s most efficient for me. Do I get more done in fifteen-minute sprints, or thirty-minute sprints? What’s the optimal break length between sprints? How many can I do in a row before I need to get up and move around?

By working with my natural tendencies instead of pushing myself to meet an outside ideal (like that good old 1,667 words a day for NaNo), I’ve discovered my current average pace and have an idea of how long it will take me to reach my goals — and how much harder I’ll have to push myself if I want to get there in time.

This is where the real work of goal-setting lies. When it comes to resolutions, there’s often a gap between our current behavior and our ideal behavior. Looking at our writing habits can help us figure out how big that gap is and how we want to address it. Is it possible to go from writing 0 words a day to writing 1,667 every day for the rest of the year? Sure. But is it probable? Well — that’s another matter entirely, isn’t it?

If I want to build productive habits, I need to pick goals suitable for marathons, not for sprints. This year, I’m only considering resolutions that lend themselves to goals I can achieve with small, simple habits I can execute on a daily basis. Whether it’s writing for an extra fifteen minutes in the morning or eeking out 200 more words by the end of the night, the change must be executable and indefinitely sustainable.

But Cee, you might say, that won’t get me where I need to be by the end of 2021!

Maybe not. Maybe you’re ready to push yourself a little harder than I am right now. But I’ll say this much: a slow on-ramp to a lifestyle change is far more effective than a giant, vertical leap. Perhaps it’ll take me longer to get to where I’m going, but incremental, habit-based steps towards smaller goals will help me make sustainable lifestyle changes. These changes in lifestyle lay the groundwork for bigger, more pronounced movements towards my goals in the future. They provide a shot at early success without completely overwhelming me.

Underpromise, Overdeliver

When I get started this January, I won’t leap back into writing 1,667 words a day — even if that’s the ultimate dream by the end of the year. I need to start slower and work my way up to it. I need to build a minimum habit I can fall back upon when times get tough and work gets busy.

When 2021 gets rolling, I’m aiming for 1k a day. I know I can meet that goal. I know I can turn that into a habit by the end of the month. I’ll likely exceed that daily goal most days of the week. Then, when February comes around, I can ask myself again: how much can I do this month? What’s my average? What would that average look like if life took a swing at me? Maybe I’ll stick with 1k a day — or maybe I’ll adjust the goal. Either way, I’ll have a month of success under my belt and a ream of data about how I did to pull from as I make my decisions for February.

Most importantly, though, I’ll have momentum. I’ll feel good about my progress and excited to continue working on my resolution.

And that’s the hardest battle won, isn’t it?

What Are Your Resolutions?

Join me in the comments and tell me about your writing resolutions.

What are your goals?

How are you going to break them down into manageable pieces?

What habits do you need to build to achieve them?

How do you plan to scale those habits in a sustainable way?

I hope that, this year, we can all support one another through our 2021 writing resolutions.

…

Looking for ways to jump-start those daily word-counts? Join me on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday for Morning Pages: writing prompts meant to spark your creativity and get words flowing onto the page. Answer discussion questions, chat with others in the comments, and share the snippets you wrote in response to the prompt!

Find Morning Pages here.

Filed Under: Craft Of Writing Tagged With: goals, inspiration, motivation, new year's resolutions, time management, writing

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