Quotes and Cookies: Guts

"Talent is helpful in writing, but guts are absolutely essential." 

~Jessamyn West

I'd like to clarify. You can write a story and not have guts. But those really great stories? Those take a huge amount of guts to write! It takes guts to put yourself out there in the way needed to tell the story you're trying to tell, or to get inside a character's head you don't love being in. Sometimes it takes guts to put a character you love into an awful situation. Heck, it takes guts to write a lot of things when you step back and think about all the people that could potentially read it.

And sometimes, you get an idea for a story that is huge. Way bigger than you feel you can tackle. One that will stretch you further than you think you can go. It takes a huge amount of guts to attempt those kinds of stories.

Whew! It's a good thing that guts grow on trees!

Oh, wait. They don't. Unless you count this:

Florida, USA - Image Credit: taurusami

But I'm kind of betting that you don't....

Were you born with the kind of guts it takes to write, or have you had to develop them along the way?

Oh, and speaking of guts, have a cookie with some mighty tasty guts. ;)

Photo credit and recipe link

Have a fabulous weekend, everyone!

Just Jump

Have I mentioned before that my brothers were crazy daredevils?

So on Friday nights when my parents went on dates, we'd party down. Because that's what you're supposed to do when you're parents are gone, right? We lived in a split-level house. (If you're unfamiliar with a split-level, you walk in the front door and are immediately faced with a half-flight of stairs leading up, and a half-flight of stairs leading down.) One of our favorite things to do was to gather every couch cushion and pillow from the whole house (with eight of us, it amassed to a decent amount), and pile them at the bottom of the lower flight of stairs.

We didn't have a railing between the upper flight of stairs and the lower--- instead, we had a half-height wall. And lemme tell you, that wall was way easier to climb on top of than any railing would've been. (I think my parents might've planned on our eventual antics when they designed the house. That's as good as permission, isn't it?)

So, with an easy to climb half-wall, we had no choice. We had to climb on it. And we had to jump ten feet down to the huge pile of pillows.

Just because we grew up in a family of daredevils didn't make that first jump each week easy, though. Every single time it was scary. It was SO HIGH. And it was hard to tell if we had fluffed and stacked and prepared the pillows well enough. And there was the possibility of not landing on our feet and getting hurt. (And actually, there was the possibility that if we sat crouched on the wall long enough, contemplating the jump, someone would "help" us make the decision to jump.) And there was the heart-clenching fear when we free-fell to the bottom.

And yes, there was the exhilaration of it all.

Because do you know what? Our ordinary life was just ordinary. Sure, things happened all the time like they do to everyone, but our Friday night jumps were something WE controlled. A craziness to our life that we chose (except in instances where we were "helped" to choose).

Jumping off that wall is kind of like jumping into a huge story line. Jumping into that larger-than-life, huge conflict / consequences story is scary every single time. You prepare by practicing and reading all about plotting, but you never know if you prepared enough until you jump in. Sometimes you may not want the huge story line, but your characters themselves will "help" you make the decision to jump. After all, they like to be in control of the jump! There will be heart-clenching fear. And there's a possibility that you'll not land on your feet. You might get hurt.

But do you know what? Without that hugeness to your plot, your story is just ordinary.

And along with the huge story line comes the exhilaration of it all. For you and your readers.

And that's what it's really all about.

I'll admit. Of all the things that require bravery that I mentioned on Monday, this one might be my hardest. I have to amp up my conflict with each round of revisions, because it is never huge enough at the beginning. Do you ever have that problem? If you don't, how do you push beyond the limits to come up with a huge storyline from the beginning?
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The Bravery of a Writer

Let's face it. It takes guts to be a writer. A serious kind of bravery in a multitude of areas. It's like there's a lot of stones we need to step on to get to where we are going, and even if there are a lot you are perfectly comfortable with stepping on, the massive scope of things means that NO ONE will be comfortable on all the steps. Heck, you might have to summon bravery you never knew you could on every single one of the steps.

Deciding to write a book is NOT one of the scary steps. Just like basket weaving or riding a bike or bowling-- you can decide you want to learn to do something with very little risk. After all, people try new things ALL THE TIME. No one expects anything from you. It's easy. And fun. The scary stuff that takes real bravery comes later.

The first scary moment might be when you decide you want to be published, because along with that decision you have to accept all that comes with it. And there is a LOT that comes with it.

Eventually, you have to tell others that you are a writer. They might think that's the coolest thing ever and wished they had the guts to do what you're doing. Or they might scoff, think you're crazy, stupid, or a dreamer.

Sometimes the hardest part is having the bravery to jump into a really huge storyline. One that feels so much huger than you, you aren't sure you can tackle it.

Or the scariest part can be when you realize all you are going to have to sacrifice to meet your goals.

Or handing your work over to critique partners that might hate your work. They might tear it apart.

Jumping into the blogging world, where strangers read what you write can be require tons of bravery. At least with critique partners, you chose who to have read it. With blogging, you lose all that control!

Then there's getting published. Even if it's not your goal, possibly every writer dreams of writing the book that goes to auction and earns a massive advance, right? Along with that advance comes so much pressure to step things up and market and promote. And the more eyes that are on your book, the more naysayers there will be.

Then, after you get a book deal, there's conferences! And school visits! And all sorts of public speaking opportunities. Maybe getting up in front of a crowd is the thing that scares you the most.

And then, if all that weren't enough, there comes the pressure to make your next book EVEN BETTER than any you've written before.

It's a dang good thing we're a brave lot, isn't it? I mean, the stuff we do could bring mere mortals to their knees! Okay, I'll admit. Quite often it brings us to our knees. Sometimes it even knocks us all the way to the ground.

But then we get back up again and jump on that stone until we can stay there without falling off.

Because we're brave like that.

Out of either morbid curiosity or the need to commiserate, I'm curious. Which stepping stone is the one that requires the most bravery on your part? 
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I’ve Got a Theory: Everything you need to know about becoming better at something, you can learn at the skate park.

I took my nine-year-old daughter to the skate park on Friday. She’s not a very experienced skateboarder, but as I watched her summon her courage and skate with 30 boys who were way bigger and way more experienced than her, I realized how skateboarding is pretty much like everything else you try— mental or physical.

Whether the hobby/talent/sport/interest you have is purely for fun and enjoyment, or if you’re doing it with the goal of rising to a professional level, you still have to start at the beginning, learn lots, and make a lot of mistakes.

So here you go. My list of universal truths learned at the skate park:

• It takes guts to run with the big boys. A lot of guts. You can totally feel like a poser. Like you’ve got no business being there when you aren’t as good as everyone else. But guess what? Those are the people you learn the most from.
• You can’t stay down on the ground when you fall. You have to pick yourself up a lot, because you WILL find yourself down on the ground a lot.

• The bigger the risk the higher chance of getting hurt when you fall. Also, the bigger chance of doing something really cool.
• If you finally stop watching at the sidelines and actually start to DO, you have so much more fun. And then you’ll want to keep doing it again and again.
• You’ll probably get hurt. Expect to, and expect that you’ll handle it fine, and you will.
• There’s a community there.
• Even when you master something you’ve been working hard on, there are still a million more things to master.
• Ten year old girls should NOT wear heavy black eyeliner.
• When you stop to notice, you’ll see that EVERYONE crashes and burns– even the people who look like pros. And it makes your crashes and burns less painful.

And another little gem from my daughter herself:

Daughter: “I don’t think I’m experienced enough to do that.”
Me: “And how do you get experienced enough?”
Daughter: “You fall down a lot. I think I need to go fall down some more.”

Happy Tuesday! And may all your crashes and burns be ones you can pick yourself up from.
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I've Got a Theory: The Daredevil Gene

As part of our city's celebration, the carnival was in town last week. As I watched my nine-year-old daughter climb aboard the cage of the Zipper, get locked inside (while I focused on breathing so empathetic claustrophobia didn't take over), then spin around uncontrollably in the cage while the cage spun controllably around the ride, I came up with a theory. Here goes:

There's a daredevil gene, and everyone's got it.

AND

There's a self-protection gene and yes, everyone's got that, too.

Sometimes the daredevil gene is teeny, and the self-protection gene is a giant pair of hands, locking fingers around the daredevil gene, trapping it in a giant cage. And sometimes the daredevil gene is enormous, and the self-protection gene is a little tiny hand, wrapping itself around the pinky toe of the daredevil gene, attempting to hold it back. Sometimes they're evenly matched and it's anyone's guess who'll win.

Me? My daredevil gene is pretty darn huge. But sadly, it's too easily swayed by logic, and my self-preservation gene is very good at talking logic. So, as much as it's always dying to break free, it stays tethered to that dental-floss thick hold Self-Preservation Gene has on it.

Maybe it's because of that, or maybe it's not, but I LOVE me a good daredevil character! I love watching them, reading about them, writing them, vicariously being them.

Maybe a daredevil character works because we like our characters to actively DO STUFF. Or maybe because a daredevil character tends to get themselves in trouble, and thus adds to the conflict in a story.

Or maybe it's because DEEP INSIDE, we really just want to do those things, too. We want our daredevil gene to break free a little more often. Only in a controlled environment. You know-- without the possible unpleasant side effects of getting into trouble or dying or being maimed.

I don't know about you, but Self-Preservation Gene is saying right now, "Seriously. You don't want to be maimed." Daredevil Gene is inclined to agree.
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